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shimmeringclouds · 4 years ago

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Karamatsu - Prepared?

𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭!𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶 𝘟 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Whenever you were at school, the hands on the clock seemed to purposely take forever to reach the final minutes of the day.

You tapped your finger impatiently against your cheek, staring blankly outside the window beside you. The droning voice of your teacher at the front of the class went through one ear and out the other, making the lesson just that little bit more boring.

You had other things to think about besides some useless math equations, anyway.

Looking up towards the clear, blue spring sky, your thoughts were drawn back to exactly that: blue. Or, more specifically, to the person you associated with the colour blue;

Karamatsu Matsuno.

One of the infamous sextuplets that attended your highschool. With his bowl cut brown hair, large round eyes and slightly red cheeks due to small blemishes, he was the definition of cute in your books.

You were lucky you were able to talk to him, too, seeing as you weren't exactly a social butterfly. He was in most of your classes, and as if it were fate, your teachers almost always paired the both of you up (although, that may have been to prevent him from sticking with his brothers, which would have led to no work being done).

So of course, the both of you were practically forced to communicate with each other. And on top of that, you were both walking home with each other nowadays, as you both were headed in the same direction. That, and the fact that he didn't really walk with his brothers anymore, which you actually found to be quite the shame.

They were so lively together, and their bond seemed so strong... What happened?

You sighed softly, eyeing the birds that flew swiftly over the school campus. You knew exactly what happened. People in your school were quick to judge them all for the things that the Matsuno's did together as brothers - as family - and to make themselves fit in, they slowly drifted apart. They don't even acknowledge each other anymore...

And now, Karamtsu seemed to be falling back into his shell of shyness. Without the support of his brothers, he didn't know what to do with himself. Slowly but surely, he became meek again, and struggled talking to others.

Including you.

Especially today, for some reason. It seemed as if he was trying to make an effort to speak, but every time you asked what was wrong, his cheeks flushed a deep red, and he stammered an excuse that you couldn't understand before running away. That had happened three times today. Did you do something wrong?

You did try asking Ichimatsu, as he seemed to be the easiest to talk to, but even he had no idea why his brother would act in such a way.

"Maybe he's just getting a little shy again. Who knows?" He had shrugged, giving you a smile before leaving to meet his friends.

At a loss, you could only watch Karamatsu's actions from the side, wondering continuously what was wrong with him. You wanted to help him, as a friend. Since that's probably all you'll ever stay to him, or you might be nothing to him now since he can't talk to you...

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you thought this. Brows furrowed, you let a small pout cross your lips. You really liked Karamtsu. A lot. Over the past year or so since you got to know him, you realised a lot of things about him, and you found your eyes always wandering back to his figure subconsciously.

And you wanted to tell him how you felt so badly, but you were scared of it causing a rift in your friendship, as you were sure he didn't see you the same way. He was just shy, that's why he couldn't talk to you much. He probably only stayed with you because he had to for a project, or he might have felt bad for not walking with you on the way home. He was nice like that.

The bell suddenly rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you packed up your things and decided to head home straight away. It was the end of the week, and all you wanted was to stay as far away from school as possible until Monday.

Leaving the classroom, you went down the few flights of stairs to the main entrance, changing out of your school shoes to your comfortable pair of white and blue sneakers; a colour combo you chose without even realising because you were too busy thinking about Karamatsu whilst out shopping-

You groaned internally, begging yourself to stop acting like those girls in your class who just acted so love struck over every guy they've ever met. You were better than this! You're 18, for goodness sake, get a grip girl!

Despite thinking this, you took one small glance back over your shoulder to see if a familiar worried face was coming towards you as usual to accompany you home...

But nobody came.

Dejectedly, you dragged your feet away from the school gates. You knew it. He was just sick of you now. That's what he was going to tell you, wasn't he? But he was just too nice for his own good to get it out, so he left you instead.

Looking up, your eyes locked onto the countless Sakura trees lined against the empty sidewalk, hundreds of pink petals twirling in the air and dancing around you in the breeze. Ah, Sakura trees... A sad reminder of just how short beautiful things can last.

Just like your friendship with Karamatsu...

"[Y/N]!"

Wow. You were imagining his voice now? That's pathetic.

"[Y/N], wait!"

...Is that coming from behind you?

Turning on your heel, your eyes widened as a figure ran closer towards you, eyebrows creased in worry and panting heavily from having to catch up to you.

"Kara...matsu?" You mumbled confusedly, watching as he stopped in front of you, leaning his palms on his knees to catch his breath. It was silent for a few moments before the boy looked up at you slowly, cheeks flushed red again. Seriously, did he have a fever?

"I-I.. uhm..." he started quietly, straightening himself out. His mouth opened and closed a few times, hands making small gestures as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Feeling slightly awkward, and worried for Karamatsu, you spoke first.

"Karamatsu," you began. He immediately froze up, eyes focused solely on you. You fidgeted slightly under his gaze, but took a small breath.

"Take a deep breath first. Then tell me what's wrong, okay?" Even though you knew what he wanted to say, you still gave him a small smile, encouraging him to speak.

Taking your advice, he sucked in a deep breath, loosening his joints so that they weren't as tense. Then, he raised a hand and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a pile of notecards. You could only stare with a slightly raised brow, curious as to what he was doing.

"Uh, hey... so.. uhh.." he looked down at his notecards. "Did you, Uh- did... you fall out of heaven because, um-" due to the shakiness of his hands (and voice) he ended up dropping his cards all over the floor.

In a panic, he fell to the ground too, scrabbling to pick up the pieces of paper and sorting them back into their original order.

"Shit, fuck oh god fuck I'm so sorry you're- you're just s-so pretty I'm sorry-"

He continued rambling like that, his face looking like a cherry as he sweated profusely out of nerves, entire body shaking and words continuously pouring out of his mouth, making no sense to you.

However, your face was cherry red too as you processed what just happened.

He... he used a pick-up line on you? To confess? Is that what was going on?

...Your heart throbbed painfully, reminding you just how in love you were with this complete dork in front of you.

As Karamastu stood back up, still mumbling, only one thought was going through your head. And it slipped out.

"Kiss me, Karamtsu."

Time seemed to stop, and this was the only time you were grateful for that.

Blushing furiously, Karamatsu's brown orbs were blown wide, darting from your face to his cards, looking through them desperately.

"I um... don't have a card for... this," he replied, his voice higher than usual. You breathed out a giggle, stepping closer to him as you took advantage of this small piece of confidence you suddenly picked up.

"That's okay. I don't think we need it."

With that, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. They were soft and slightly plump, fitting against yours like a missing puzzle piece.

Karamatsu froze up again, eyes squeezed shut as he dared not move, scared that he would ruin the moment if he did anything. Even so, he melted into you, pushing back against your lips in hopes that he was conveying his feelings like he wanted to.

Breaking away from each other, breathless, you spoke softly for only him to hear.

"I think you're really cute, too, Karamatsu."

The boy could only stare at you, face red, unable too tear his gaze away. He was floating up in the clouds right now, not entirely believing that this was real.

Smiling gently, you held out a hand towards Karamatsu.

"Shall we head home? Together?" You added. Glancing at your hand, a soft and sheepish smile worked it's way onto his face, cheeks flushing cutely. Slowly, he placed his larger hand into yours, squeezing gently.

"Y-Yeah... That sounds like a good idea."

#osomatsu san #karamatsu matsuno #karamatsu x reader #xreader #highschool!matsu #18!matsu #18!karamatsu x reader #prompt #fluffy #cute

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idjitlili · 4 years ago

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Oh no, all the hobbits Aragorn.

Aragorn x reader.

Request for Thatfoolishhuman 'I would love an Aragorn imagine! Could you do one where the Mc is a healer (like, she can make wounds disappear with her hands.) and she patches Aragorn up after a battle and he falls in love with how gentle she is.'

Summary: Imagine being apart of the fellowship, being Gandalf's niece , you learn some stuff from him whether he liked it or not. Basically following the fellowship in secret from Rivendell, until you slipped up.

A/n: Arwen and Aragorn aren't together in this imagine, he still grew up with Elrond. A pitch is a piggyback ride it's the original name for it. Totally didn’t make a meme for this

Word count:2253

Warnings: I'm British, so spelling for certain words differs, such as grey, colour, among other words, don't be mad please.

Growing up around a wizard, especially Gandalf the grey, you learnt a lot. He just left books laying around, books full of spells. Of course Gandalf wasn't really related to you, but he might as well have been. Your parents travelled a lot, so you ended up being around Gandalf most of your childhood.

Gandalf had taught you some basic spells, nothing major, healing spells mostly, children are clumsy. It was no secret your parents didn't like you running through the forests, saying it was too dangerous , general protectiveness, you guess. Many times they proved that they were right, many times you had fallen into traps left for animals. You would've probably bled out, if it wasn't for Gandalf.

Still living with your parents, no longer a child, not knowing what you wanted to do, you parents wanted you to go work in the local bakery, not wanting you to travel around like they did, dangerous times with black riders frequently on the road and such. But of course you didn't want a simple life.

Again your parents had left on business, this time you didn't go to Gandalf's house, you had maybe listened in, when going to visit Frodo , only to see Samwise Gamgee listening under the window. You know how it goes, Gandalf caught him, not you.

You ended up following Frodo, Sam , Merry and Pippin. Life is boring, might as well take a risk, you longed for adventure, like the mister Bilbo.

Surprisingly the elves had not even noticed you at Rivendell, actually not surprising Gandalf had brought you there many times, so they probably thought you were with him. You had waited in the trees outside Rivendell's gates, for them.

You hadn't know what was actually going on , or whether there would actually be a quest, but to your lucky there was. Not really lucky for Boromir though... soon enough Frodo and Gandalf had emerged along with 7 others.

You weren't noticed for a long time considering, Frodo's fault completely, when Frodo had fallen down the mountain in the snow, you had been hiding not so great in the snow, and of course Frodo landed facing you. While Aragorn had rushed back to Frodo, Frodo's face was laced with confusion as he stared at you.

"Y/n...?" Frodo had stood up, not realising he had dropped the ring, you rising with your backpack and coat one, with the snow littering your hair. Aragorn had just stared too moving towards Frodo, carefully, the others travelling down to see what was going on.

"Oh, Frodo! What are you doing here? I was just out to get some milk for my dinner." Standing calf deep in snow, freezing, yet your facing burning with embarrassment.

"I was wondering when you'd reveal yourself." Gandalf chuckling , of course he knew you were there, but what you didn't know was that Gollum had been not even three feet away from you.. Gandalf had turned back grabbing the ring from Boromir and launching it at Frodo, like he was Michael Jordan.

"Gandalf who is this?" Gimli of all of the fellowship had questioned you, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind.

"Y/n is my niece , now come along we don't have all day."

Thus, you were no longer a stalker , but part of the fellowship. Time had passed and you had lost your uncle, but it didn't feel right, you couldn't process his death, so you pretended he just slipped on some bread and was at home resting.

Soon enough you were all heading for Lothlórien, without realising it, you had stayed close to Legolas at this moment, mostly to bug him.

"If elves are so great, then how didn't you notice me? For all you know I could've been watching you pee, I wasn't but I could've been. While you was sleeping I could've chopped your hair off and made a wig. Why do you look like your are apart of a dance routine? Why do you float? How does it feel to have a dick for a father?" Rambling on , you are surprised that Legolas doesn't whoop you, he could've, you wouldn't have been able to do much, you aren't the best person at defence.

You couldn't tell if you was annoying Legolas or not, but Gimli had kept smirking your way, as he stomped through the forest.

"Hey, Legolas? "

"Yes, y/n?" Legolas had sighed , he much preferred Gimli antics.

"Can I have a pitch?" But he had just stared at you, frowning, huffing you had walking around Legolas so you was next to Aragorn. Only for your ankle to roll, making you fall into Aragorn, it didn't necessarily hurt but. Aragorn had grabbed you and placed you back onto your feet.

"Um, Aragorn? You know you much better that Legolas..? Can I have a pitch?" You were undoubtedly attracted Aragorn, come on, he looks like a God. Fuck Thor. He didn't even answer just knelt down, allowing you to grip around his neck, and grab your calf's. Carrying on walking with ease.

Raising your eyebrows and smirking at Legolas behind you, he just never showed any emotion, except in that scene with Haldir , where he just smirks creepily in the background.

You weren't particularly close to anyone in the fellowship other than Frodo and Sam. But when Boromir died, yes it was sad, but where did the hobbits go? You had stayed close to Aragorn as he fought down the Uruk-hai as you hid in a tree. Before lifting you down, rushing to dying Boromir.

"They took the little ones,"

"Be still."

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

Kneeling next to Boromir, "The hobbits Aragorn, but we shall get them back." Boromir was too far gone to be saved, the wrong brother died sadly. Boromir eyes had met yours once more , as he smiled , before he finished his speech to his king.

After Boromir was sent home, the fellowship was down to just four, rushing after Merry and Pippin. "We must hurry! The hobbits Aragorn!" Five minutes of running , and you were already getting a stitch. This was no time for jokes.

Soon enough Gandalf was alive, and Aragorn was dead, as Théoden had lead you all to helms deep. You had seen Eowyn, oh how heartbroken she was after she found out Aragorn was dead, that bitch knew him for what five minutes, she was already grinding up on him.

You were witch, she was a princess, obviously Aragorn was going to prefer her. Soon enough Aragorn practically marching into helms deep, injured but alive , what's with all the faked deaths.

After Aragorn had done his big speech and everyone had left to get ready for war, you had stayed behind obviously, you didn't want to confront him in front of everyone. "Uh, Aragorn?" You were unsure of yourself, honestly, you can't have a crush on a king. You swear kings have bad hair, lucky Aragorn didn't , look at the British royal family.. now that's embarrassing.

Aragorn had turned Aragorn to face you, waiting for you to speak, he definitely didn't fall from heaven, the Valar decided to test him by shoving him off a cliff.

"Um, I was wondering if I c-could help with those wounds, um, I didn't know if you needed help?" You were sure that your face was probably flushed red, it would be surprising if he could even understand you , as you stumbled over your own words.

Aragorn had nodded , before sitting down near by. Grabbing the king foil out of your bag , along with other healing herbs, Aragorn had removed his jacket and undone some of the buttons on his tunic. Bringing a stool in front of Aragorn for you to sit. You weren't about to chew up the kings foil, tearing it up before trying to gently apply it to the huge gash across his chest.

A small groan had emerged from his lips as you had placed a piece kings foil to the gash too harshly. "Sorry." Looking into Aragorn's bright eyes , for a spilt second before going back to gently placing the kings foil. Aragorn stops you , by grabbing your wrist , not with force, making you look back up at him.

"Do not be sorry, I just fell off a cliff, I've been through worse." A smile reassuring smile plant on his face, but you can only think what is worse than falling off a cliff.

"Okay, sorry, I mean I'm not sorry, you are very intelligent or a king, there's warg! Let's go fight our enemy on the edge of a cliff. Um, actually that's embarrassing because I fell down a well because a owl scared me, I was stuck down there for hours, and then Gandalf found me and used a bucket to get me out. I had to sit in the bucket while he pulled it up."

Aragorn had let go of your wrist , allowing you to continue as you spoke, "you have not changed."

"Pardon?" Aragorn was smiling down at you as your eyebrows scrunched together.

" Last week I saw leaf , hit you in the back of your neck, you jumped three feet in the air." Your face flushed again, as you tried to contain a smile, as Aragorn laughed at you.

"I did not, that was not a leaf, it was a snake!"

"A green round snake, I believe you , y/n" you had stopped applying the kings foil, to put your head between your nerves , to hide your face in embarrassment . "It was a deformed snake."

"Last month, you skidded in mud and fell flat on your back, when Legolas put his hand on your shoulder briefly. Or when you kicked Boromir's cock when he was try-" sitting back up to look at Aragorn.

"You are right, next time it will be you that I will kick." Aragorn could not have shut his legs quicker, making you laugh at him, "I'll have to start wearing a shield."

"Never know when I'll strike, your balls are going to be deformed." Aragorn had gasped at you, as you brought your hand other his wound beginning to heal him as you chanted quietly.

"Such foul language, Gandalf would not approve." Looking up to Aragorn with a small smile, placing your other hand on his shoulder softly, to stop him from moving. Really the healing didn't take very long, the cut left a blood stain though. "Stay there," (or you get unprofessional neutering.) Grabbing the water pouch from your bag, and piece of cloth.

Before returning to sit in front of Aragorn with the damp cloth, wiping off the dried blood gently. You couldn't help but feel like you had done something good today, you got to heal ,clean an very attractive man stopping his wound from getting infected and him dying.

Plus,he's Aragorn, who wouldn't want to touch his chest. As you finished, you had look down for your pouch, only to see how blood his hands were. Lifting his hand up to examine it, no way you were a doctor. " How have you not gotten infection? All that Orc blood going into your open wounds." Again having to heal all the little cuts and slices on his hands.

It was no secret to Aragorn that he had developed a like for you, from the moment Frodo saw you sticking out in the snow like a mole heap.

“Tis the best you are going to be, after this battle you will covered again. Legolas probably glide through here, any minute asking where his beloved is.” Both of you standing up, grabbing your bag, you had leant up to press a kiss to Aragorns cheek, before turning away to head to where the woman and children were, Gandalf’s orders.

Aragorn had stopped you again, by the shoulder, causing you to turn back around. “Y/n, thank you. May I ask for something else?” Aragorns eyes looking into your e/c ones

softly, you had nodded. “Would you accept me courtship?” You had just pressed your lips slow onto his before pulling away.

The door was quickly opened “ARAGORN!” Legolas glided into the room, rushing towards you and Aragorn. Sighing “your beloved is here,” Legolas was stood between both of you, you had to walk around him, to wrap your arms around Aragorn,briefly embracing, before pulling away.

Legolas just stared, “I’m not hugging you too, leg a less, that’s what your name would be if you had no legs, because your legs aragorn”

#lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings imagines #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lotr x #lotr oneshot #lotr imagines #lotr imagine #aragorn x y/n #aragorn x you #aragorn imagines #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn

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sunmaylight · 4 years ago

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TGCF Book 3 Reaction pt. 6 - We are going to Mt. Tonglu!

hahaha. So, funny thing. I got impatient and just breezed though the last two books and consumed all of the post-canon content I could find. But, even though I have finished TGCF, that doesn’t mean I didn’t leave notes that I want in big chunks like this. So I will continue working on this

Even though I read the novel, I will stay true to my notes to the best of my abilities.

Ch 138: Xie Lian remembering that he threw his meatballs like bullets without any spiritual strength, like how he went about the past 800 years

- Me: Why do people not realize that Xie Lian is buff. Buff Xie Lian art, where?

Qi Rong turns out to be a better chef than Xie Lian. Like possible House Husband material

- Me: Yo. WTF. I call hack! How did- *remembering Qi Rong’s backstory*... Okay, but how did he learn and hone his skills?

Heaven’s Eye cultivator group about to chow down on some hair when Xie Lian steps in with the pebble toss

- Me: Xie Lian saving cultivators from committing c*nn*bal*sm

Ch 139: Hua Cheng builds a little golden palace outside and then kicks it. The shady inn illusion crashes as well.

- Me: Can this get animated?

Feng Xin mentioning of an ascension acceleration method with dead babies

- Me: Wait! What if Feng Xin’s ascension is the suspicious one instead of Mu Qing

Ch 140: Xie Lian finds Guzi to be sick and dehydrated.

Mama Bear Xie Lian - Awaken

- Me: Oh shit. Xie Lian is pissed at his cousin.

Ch 141: Learning about who the father to the fetus spirit is. Learning that the fetus spirit is named Cuo Cuo. Secrets around Cuo Cuo’s birth abundant

- Me: WAIT! HE HAD S*X WITH LAN CHANG. HE F*KED?!

Xie Lian reassuring Hua Cheng, but Hua Cheng turning it around to saying that his actions are up to him. Xie Lian feels something.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had a moment when suddenly they see someone sitting at the table making tea

- Me: No! Is it Jun Wu?

Jun Wu is pouring three cups of tea

- Me: He saw the intimate scene between the two

Red flower that slips on the edge of the flower pot is about to fall when Xie Lian caught it like it’s the most precious thing in the world

- Me: Foreshadowing???

Xie Lian basically saying that Heaven will fall if the Heavenly Emperor is dead. Xie Lian basically saying that Heaven is floating in the sky because of the Heavenly Emperor

- Me: Man, I really hope that the Heavenly Emperor doesn’t die and make Heaven crash onto the ground, only to be upheld by the power of Xie Lian and then create a parallel of that scene in book 2, or Atlus holding up the world.

Ch 143: Heaven and the Ghost Kings have a mutual beneficial relationship

Hua Cheng using this fact to exploit Heaven singing him praises for a year.

- Me: Cunning bastard. I would have asked for praises sung to me and Xie Lian if I was in his shoes

Mt. Tonglu has the Klin and both places is that one poisonous jar where the last poisonous creature that is alive after x amount of time is emerged as the victor.

- Me: Battle Royale to the death.

Xie Lian sneaks with Ghost as a Puppet Master

- Me: Oh, nice disguise

Swift Life-Extinguishing Blade says he can find if a ghost is suspicious

- Me: Okay, but what if you are the suspicious one?

Xie Lian crouches down to hid behind the 8-12 year old looking Hua Cheng

Hua Cheng as the “Puppet Master” disguise: “No one shall touch what I love except for me”

- Me: Impressive acting there

There is a cloaked figure that Hua Cheng says they are wearing a fake face

- Me: Is it Pei Ming?

Swift Life-Extinguishing Blade dies from one slash. Xie Lian making an observation that sounds like a joke

- Me: lol

Ch 14-Mt. Tonglu gate

Some ghost ladies get hurt and the cloaked stranger immediately asks: “Are my ladies alright?”

- Me: I was right. It was Pei Ming

Pei Ming about to tease Hua Cheng when Ruoye whips out to hit Pei Ming

- Me: I don’t know if that was all Ruoye or influence from Mt. Tonglue, but go Ruoye.

Pei Ming’s mysterious candy he got to disguise his spiritual powers is revealed to be shady candy made form Ghost City. Consuming the candy is the equivalent to rubbing skunk spray all over yourself.

- lol

E-Ming has been affected like Hua Cheng. It is now a small sword

- me: Cute

Pei Ming can sense the atmosphere around Hua Cheng and Xie Lian

The Swift Life-Extinguishing Blade turns out to be alive still. Both halves are moving freely

- Me: It’s still alive. how?!

Pei Ming is revealed to be the “General Who Snapped His Sword”

- Me: *Four Tales of Heaven Background Understanding Update*

Wine: 100% Understanding & Truth of Creation

Flower Crown: 100 50% Understanding of Creation & History -Second Ascension & Third Ascension are Unknown-

Princess: 15% Understanding of Identity & History

Sword: 25% & Growing...Processing backstory now

A giant savage, dark skinned burly man in broken armour appears

- Me: Wait. Do I know this character?

It is revealed to be Ke-Mo

Xie Lian pulls a trick on Swift Life-Extinguishing Blade/Ming’Guang and Pei Ming saw it work. The trick was actually the most vile swear word of the Banyue kingdom that is the most disrespectful insult ever.

- Me: What did the army teach you Xie Lian?

Xie Lian calls out for Banyue & Pei Su knowing that they are not at Mt. Tonglu as a tactic to distract Ke Mo

- Me: lol. What if they actually come after Xie Lian called them.

When things start to look good, Xie Lian calls out on it. It is immediately changes into a bad thing

Tiny E-Ming grows with praises from Xie Lian.

Pei Ming does a big brain and smashes E-Ming’s hit to Xie Lian’s lips. E-Ming grows to a very long scimar

- Me: Pei Ming caught on what Xie Lian didn’t. Also E-Ming reflect’s Hua Cheng, so, affection makes E-Ming grow. Hua Cheng

As Ke Mo and Ming’Guang are abotu to beat Xie Lian and Pei Ming, Banyu and Pei Su do that badass entry of jumping down a cliff and kicking the opponents.

- Me: lol, Banyue and Pei Su actually appeared.

Banyue throws a scorpion-snake at Ke Mo fully knowing what she is doing and the 200 years of mutual dislike is behind it.

- Me: Ultimate betrayal.

Banyue: We came here with Rain Master

- Me: Wait. Rain Master is here?

Ch 148: Xie Lian thinks that if he does the same things he did to E-Ming to help him grow, it will help Hua Cheng grow

- Me: Awe. So cute.

Ke Mo vs. Banyue & Pei Su - Round 2: Banyue is too embarrassed to throw her snakes again at Ke Mo. Pei Su swoops in and yeets a basket full at Ke Mo who screams at them

- Me: For some reason I find this scene really funny.\

Xie Lian: Moves into kiss Hua Cheng. He kisses the forehead and is sad about it.

Pei Ming learns that Banyue is that Banyue while she backs away from Banyue as Pei Ming comes close to her

- Me: Oh wait. Does Pei Ming still smell of those Ghost Candies?

It is revealed that Banyue is weary of Pei Ming because of the candy scent

- Me: Lol, it was the candy

Rain Master is brought up

- Me: *random thought* Does Rain Master & Pei Ming have some history together?

Rain Master is at Mt. Tonglu because Qi Rong stole some of her farmers.

Pei Ming is revealed to be the opposing General of the Rain Master

- Me: Oh, they do have some history together.

Xie Lian & Readers learn about the ‘Tale of the General Who Snapped His Sword’

- Me: LORE!

Sword: 75% Understanding

Ch 149: Pei Ming insults Banyue for not knowing how to cook like other females

- Me: General Pei, I understand that in your time that might have been a norm. But modern times that is different.

Xie Lian says he will teach Banyue how to cook

- Me: Oh no. Someone please stop them.

Banyue is holding a pot of food

- Me: Oh shoit. Did Banyue?

Ch 150: Banyue’s chicken meal is a black mass of questionable origins

- Me: *sob* it’s over. Banyue is now added to the list. But at least she took up her cooking skills after her adopted dad.

Pei Su takes the dubious food and eats it after watching Hua Cheng try some.

- Me: RIP Pei Su

Hua Cheng telling Xie Lian about the history of Mt. Tonglu while Pei Su is dying in the background. Banyue’s cooking somehow turned into a spirit or eldrich horror

- Me: *sob* please. You two are so adorable together, but someone (Pei Su) is literally dying from food poisoning. You are like that one pool meme

Pei Ming has given up on Pei Su to hang with the oblivious couple

Xie Lian has heard of Wuyoung before from his past while training to Ascension.

- Me: Oh. Interesting.

Little Xie Lian learned how to recite the Ethic Sutras like nothing because he was a curious child about a forgotten kingdom and the Guoshi made him shut up through sutras.

- Guoshi, how are you real?

Xie Lian: Pei Su is talking weird. Is it because of the Scorpion-Snake?

Banyue: Pei Su has immunity from them

-Me: God you two are so oblivious.

Ch 151: What if Jun Wu is from Wuyoung? Nah. He has a 500 year difference from then.

- Me: *Remembers Qi Rong calling Jun Wu a faker and thinks there is some truth in those words* What if he became an immortal 500 years before his ascension and just loitered around for 500 years until he achieved ascension status.?

The group is Scooby-Doo investigation with Ace Attorney observation skills on the temples. of the Kingdom of Wuyoung to learn why it fell

- Me: intersting. I hope they find something interesting.

-----

Alright. Going to stop there cause the actual journey to the Klin starts and it is a long journey where there is actually more than what I commented on. Man, I just really picked and choose what to highlight while reading

#sunmay rambles #sunmay reads tgcf #sunmay reads tian guan cifu #sunmay reads hob #sunmay reads heaven official's blessing #tgcf #hob #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #tgcf spoiler #hob spoiler #book 3 spoiler #Mt. tonglu spoilers #RIP Pei Su #I hope you develop an iron stomach like Hua Cheng to eat Banyue's cooking

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Forsaken | Part 7

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Jinyoung urged the sun to go back down. He didn’t want the new day to arrive and yet it had done just that, blinding him whenever he looked up to curse the heavens.

He had been reluctant to do anything this morning.

It had been a brief slice of paradise, he realised. Since the last raid, orders had been to stay on the low. And then right before tattooing you yesterday morning, Mark had found him and slipped him the messaged received through the radio.

They were expected to plunder another region with one week as the timeframe.

It was foolish, on his behalf, to get so wrapped up in you. The highs and lows of having you here had distracted him from his usually clear focus. And after sharing his body and becoming one with your heart and soul, Jinyoung wondered if this was how you felt when you had your rebellious stage as a teenager. Back then, he hadn’t understood your defiance towards your parents and their rules. Now, he could explicitly.

He wanted to crumble the note within his hands, pretending the radio never picked up the order. Yet, too many of his men knew of what was expected here. BamBam and Yugyeom were stationed in the radio tower most days and would have passed on the message to Mark. It was fruitless to deny the order’s existence.

Could he object fulfilling it, however?

There was a growing moral concern within him now that you were at his side. Numb, he had followed orders for the past decade in hopes it would somehow lead to a way out of the army. He knew it was hopeless, and yet that was how he had processed it.

You brought out a different side within him. Jinyoung wanted to scrub his hands clean of his sins. Although he couldn’t change the past, he wanted to keep the blood from his hands so you didn’t have to clean it off for him.

Being an honest man when he was a seasoned warrior would be impossible and yet he wanted to try.

“Mark told me they’re readying the horses for the trip out,” you murmured after stepping to Jinyoung’s side, holding a hand over your eyes to keep the bright light out of them.

Were you trying to comfort him right now, knowing full well he was about to take the lives of others? Jinyoung closed his eyes guiltily. He didn’t want you to see him at his worst again.

“I don’t hate you,” you announced a moment later, stepping in front of him and rearranging the protective armour to his outfit. Your expression was grim as you fussed over him. “I can’t hate you.”

“It’s okay. I can do that in your stead.”

“I’ll send a prayer to those who cross paths with you all that it ends quickly.”

Jinyoung turned his head away from yours, blinking back his emotions. He hadn’t cried over the cruelness of this world in years. Now you were rendering him into a bubbling mess. Stepping back from you, Jinyoung shook his head.

“Don’t do anything. I don’t want you involved in this.”

“I am though. I know that people will lose their lives by the man I love. My lack of stopping you means I am now a part of this too.”

Static filled his mind, buzzing away whatever you were saying to him now.

He didn’t need to you see him off like some housewife sending her husband off to work. This wasn’t a job worthy of such a send-off. In fact, the longer he stood near you, the more repulsed Jinyoung became, wanting to get away from you immediately.

He strode over to the stables as quickly as he could and mounted his stead, patting its neck before kicking it to charge forward. His men scrambled to follow after his hasty departure, keeping up with the race he had made it into until some miles away from the base.

There, Jinyoung sucked in a deep breath and expelled it shakily. Jackson glanced in his direction and groaned. “Some leader you are.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t even tell the woman you love that you’ll miss her whilst on the road,” he continued and ignored the seething expression Jinyoung shot him. Jackson shrugged. “If I ever find someone to love, I’ll make sure she knows it every day.”

“Do make sure she’s aware she’s lying with a man who has sins stacked up so high that the heavens above won’t ever grant him access beyond those pearly white gates.”

“You think she can’t cope with who you are? Y/N isn’t like that.”

“What would you know? It was me who spent years at her side, not you.”

“Whilst you’ve been brooding like a petulant child, I’ve spent some time with her. I’ll have you know, Jinyoung, she’s far easier to talk to than you are.”

Jinyoung merely grunted in response.

“When you love someone, you have to accept all of them. You might not agree, you might hope for change and you might shoulder some of their guilt.”

“That’s what I don’t want.”

“For Y/N to be a strength for you?”

Jinyoung scoffed. “She’s my weakness.”

“She could empower you if you let her. She’s accepted who you are. She loves you regardless. You’re the one with the problem. If you keep acting like a tortured soul and open a door just to slam it in her face again, she’ll find it hard to remain at your side.”

“Did I sign up for an advice session, Lieutenant?” Jinyoung questioned sternly and Jackson’s concerned expression turned sombre.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Let’s focus on the task ahead, shall we?”

“What’s love like?”

Jinyoung looked over at Jaebum and frowned. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’ve clearly experienced it.” Jinyoung made no effort to react and Jaebum nudged him. “With that girl from the village.”

“She saved me, it wasn’t love.”

“How do you know what is and isn’t love?” Jaebum pointed out and Jinyoung laughed at the boy’s ludicrous way of asking a question, only to throw it back at him when he didn’t respond the way he wanted him to.

Although Jaebum was by far the easiest company Jinyoung had within this wretched camp thus far, he found the man beyond frustrating at times.

“I’m not answering.”

“He looks like he’s suffering from heartbreak,” another voice crooned and Jinyoung glanced at Jackson and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t fond of him much, either.

“What’s heartbreak like?” Jaebum wondered, peering at Jinyoung for obvious signs. “He looks healthy enough; surely his heart still works fine.”

“It’s losing someone who makes your world brighter,” a quiet man spoke, everyone at the wooden table turning to look at Mark. He sighed heavily. “It’s when the life leaves your eyes because you’re too far away from their bright light they live within.”

That Jinyoung could relate to. Without you, the world did seem dull in comparison. However, he wasn’t about to tell any of them that.

“What? Yet the sun is out right now!” Jackson exclaimed, dodging the hand that Mark threw out towards him exasperatedly. They laughed together and Jinyoung smiled lightly.

It hurt without you, but at least he wasn’t alone.

It was a gruelling five days and when the men returned to the camp, only the younger ones seemed in good spirits.

Jinyoung was exhausted, and after dismounting his horse he led it to the stables where the gypsy ladies began untacking them.

“You’re back, Commander.”

“Make sure the bathing house has hot water for us in an hour,” he instructed and Trudy reached for his wrist.

“Don’t be alarmed when you look around the camp.”

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

Trudy smiled weakly and tapped her hand gently over his. “Y/N cleaned.”

Darting away from the woman, Jinyoung took the entrance to their camp through the hillside from the stables, hurrying through the earthen corridor to the other side. On first glance, nothing seemed to be out of order.

And that’s when he realised it, everything was glistening.

“Oh, thank god you’re back,” Youngjae greeted with a relieved tone. “She hasn’t stopped.”

“Y/N?” Jinyoung questioned distractedly as he continued to survey the area, and the man nodded. “She did all this?”

“At first, she organised the entire kitchen. Then the bathing house she scrubbed until her hands bled. I tried to stop her, to make her rest, but then she was up in the middle of the night rearranging the seating foyer and the supplies shed. She climbed the ladder and dusted off the cobwebs in every crevice and I have no idea what she’s gotten up to in your home, Jinyoung.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he replied as he marched towards the areas Youngjae had spoken of. The kitchen was indeed void of any clutter and mess and Jinyoung began to run through the camp towards his house, thumping down the stairs from the side door and then flung the final door open, heaving as he took you in.

You were reading at his desk and twisted around to look at him miserably. “Oh, you’re back.”

Yanking off his armour and letting it drop to the floor with a thud, he moved to your side, pulling you out of the chair and holding you as close as he could. “I missed you.”

“You... you did?”

“Every day, every hour, every minute,” he confessed and you began to cry, clinging to him tightly.

“I didn’t know what to do without you!”

“I know.”

“I hate cleaning but it was all I could do to pass the time.”

“I know,” he repeated soothingly, breathing you in to calm some of his nerves down.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“Only a graze, I’ll be fine.”

“Did you… are they…?” Jinyoung hummed weakly in answer.

“I did what was expected of me.”

“I don’t have any idea what to say,” you told him honestly and Jinyoung choked on his emotions, your head jerking back to look at him, reaching to wipe the tears now falling from his eyes. “It’s painful for you.”

“I want to leave before the next order,” he announced and you nodded in agreement, gripping him more tightly.

“We can do that. We’ll get it organised. Jaebum was here whilst you were gone, taking things he felt was needed and storing it in the old shack on the boundary line.”

“I need to go and wash off everything,” Jinyoung mentioned, once spent with his emotions, and glanced at your linked hands. Dried blood now sullied your once clean ones and he sighed at the sight, his fears now a reality.

He wasn’t as scared as he had been on the morning he left. Jackson, even if he had bothered him at the time, had been right.

You were trying to accept all that came with him. Although you were eager to escape, Jinyoung knew you wouldn’t go without him. You would stay here and endure it all for the rest of your life if that was what was needed.

He rested against you, feeling vulnerable and small in comparison.

“Do you need me to help you go to the bathing house?”

“And see all the rest of the men using it, I don’t think so,” Jinyoung replied sternly and you giggled.

It was amazing how such a small bright sound like that could liven him up so easily.

Staring at you again, Jinyoung realised he had loved you from the day he stole that compass from you. You had laughed at him then too, the sound embedded in his mind, the source of your light.

Now that you were back, he didn’t want to cast you into darkness. He wanted you to shine as brightly as you once had. If that meant allowing you to shoulder his burdens along with him, then he would do it.

And he knew that a meeting with Jaebum was in order as well.

It was time for phase one to begin.

_________________

Part 8

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

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rosesnink · 4 years ago

Text

Revealings Of The Heart (Hayley x Ernest)

A/N: A few weeks ago, I got this ask of my dear friend @missameliep asking about Hayley and Ernest’s first kiss. So I thought to make a whole one shot so it is better explained, because it has been in my mind for months how they could kiss and in a better, more appropiate age for both of them.

Summary: Hayley graduated a few days ago and is about to go back to England to start her adult life, but an unexpected visit with a very shocking revelation makes her life make a spin of 365º.

Hayley packed the last piece of cloth, hoping that she packed her necessities and has sold some things she didn’t need: uni books she didn’t enjoy to new fellow students, clothes she grew to loathe, ugly presents from former relationships and even has made some essays to lazy but rich people who had nothing to lose. Of course, Directora Nieto suspected, but found no proof because uni teachers did not pay attention to anything that were plagiarism on online essays, not even the detail of handwriting or narrating.

“Tú, Hayls, ya tienes todo listo?” Her roomie, Andrea, asked.

“Si, todo listo. Mi vuelo vendrá a la tarde-noche.” She replied.

Andrea sat on the luggage, knowing well what came next: closing off everything.

“Oh, boy, here we go again.”

She was taking her last stroll over the city when she got a call “Hol—”.

“Hayley! Remember me? I’m Lydia Sinclaire!” Mrs. Sinclaire beamed.

“I do! I do.”

“I’m in Madrid now on a business trip on my husband’s behalf. Please tell me I can see you!”.

Hayley chuckled “Sure, no problem. Let me text you an address and I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Hayley sent her the address to Gran Via and she lost no time, taking a taxi and stopped on that famous building of Madrid everyone started to go. She found her visit in the middle of the street, looking anxious. She caught her arm and the woman twisted it and she cried of pain! Then, she let go of it and gasped “Oh! Sorry, darling, I thought you were an attacker.”

She winced before laughing “Don’t worry. That was actually impressive. Shall we?”.

The woman nodded as they both walked towards the fancy building and got into the elevator, where it was just the two of them. Hayley then fished from her bag a dress and took off her shirt and pants, startling Mrs. Sinclaire! She put on the black dress and placed the clothes on her back. She fished her small make-up bag and put on red gloss and a quick and accurate eyeliner of the shape of an eye cat. She finally let her hair loose and put on some perfume from a very tiny bag. She placed it all in her bag and laughed at Mrs. Sinclaire’s shocked expression “What? Don’t tell me you never did this when my age?”.

“No! I was too much of a good girl. Good Lord, when did you learn these things?!”.

“Before renting a flat, I lived with my maternal grandfather who is very conservative, but my grandma taught me a trick or two. He never found out of our schemes.”

Lydia laughed shocked but amused at it “And why do you still do it?”.

“Because you never know when you’re invited to a drinking in the street in twenty minutes or to a clandestine party at a forbidden place?”.

“My God, and I thought English women were rebellious…”.

“Spanish people love three things: food, parties and holidays, and everything free. Drinking is their culture. There are some those who don’t like it or stay in, but some of them are known for that, especially the Southern! Partying in Andalusia and Valencia is the Spanish Vegas, and in some occasions, the European Vegas.”

The elevator dinged and they both entered when they saw Hayley’s attire and passed them to VIP.

After some chit-chat, Mrs. Sinclaire shook her head in disbelief “So you’ve graduated top of your class in Complutense but haven’t got a job yet? Need I to put you in good word with anybody?”.

“No, but thanks. I don’t want my rich family to interfere, I wanna earn it, like my friends here.”

The woman raised the glass “I’ll drink to that.”

When her pint returned to the table, she asked “How’s your family? I understand they’re all well?”.

“Hm, my husband is resisting cancer and my son is growing taller and more handsome by the day. Already 23 and showing a great promise in the family business!” She fished her phone and showed a pic of him where he wasn’t aware he was being photographed. He looked very handsome, really: his curls were now softer and he was taller than before -he couldn’t be more than 6’8 or how Spanish said, 1’90 metres- and his features had hardened and there was a hint of a beard on his chin.

“He is… taller. Last time I saw him he was 6’5 feet tall and I was, like, 5’8.”

“My dear, you were 17 by then! You’re 21 now. He won’t admit it, but he has missed you.”

Her heart accelerated, but kept a poker face “He did?”.

“Yes! Always asking if you’d be home by Christmas or the festivities. His birthdays haven’t been the same without you there.”

She chuckled bitterly “I highly doubt that…”.

She pulled her shoulder teasingly “They have been! He was always so sad he didn’t have any present of yours…”.

She shook her head in disbelief and Lydia looked at her earnestly “During years, he has awaited for your reply to his mobile message. He was a bit depressed that you didn’t answer, even though he told you he was in love with you!”.

Her head whipped to her direction “He what? W-what message?”.

“One call he made you when you first got to Madrid! Here, I’ve got a copy.”

She played it and Hayley could hardly believe it.

Hayley, I know I should feel ashamed. Our age difference is concerning, but you’re leaving now and I cannot hide it any longer. I must unburden myself before it consumes me: I am courting a woman, yes, but she is not you. Every time I look at her, she reminds me that she isn’t you. That she doesn’t have your mysterious green eyes I could get lost looking at all the time, or your lips, or the way you speak, so hypnotic… It is no secret to anyone but you that I am in love with you, and I wish to be yours in the most respectful way. Please call me back if you hear this. If your feelings aren’t the same, I will remain your most ardent, humble and loyal friend.

The message ended and Hayley was wide-eyed, in complete disbelief and speechless. She remembers the kind guy, Carlos, who turned out to be obsessed with her escorting her and left her phone there with him, when one of the reasons she went to study aboard was that the man she was in love with and had broken up a relationship with didn’t like her back, indeed liked her back all this time!

“How long?”.

“Since he was 14.”

She rested her head on her palms “Fuck.” She was stunned, very stunned and undone “I must go to England now. I have to tell him before I bury it deep again. Here, have some euros for the ride and the check, I have a flight to take.”

Mrs. Sinclaire smiled, knowing she did well in telling her, knowing that hours ago, Ernest was aware that Hayley returned his affections too. Her plan was almost complete.

Five hours ago, in England

“You’ve got it all, Mother?”

“Yes, I’m waiting for one last mail, can you grab it yourself?”

Ernest frowned “Why?”

“Because I have to go to the bathroom and I’ll tell you anyways the content of it.”

He shrugged “Fair enough.”

He snagged some letters that he passed through: bills, more bills, a letter from Hayley Parker—he stopped in short.

Yes, that was indeed Hayley Parker’s handwriting. He opened it, taking care that his mother wasn’t staring before he read it.

Dear Ernest:

I know I have no right, that I am far too young to you, but I don’t think I can ignore this any longer.

I’m in love with you, Ernest. It was never Louis, or James, or Peter. It was you, Ernest. It was you all along, it has always and will always be you. And if there’s someone else, I do not want them, I want you.

I am aware that you are with someone else, but I must know before I decide before I go. I must know what it’s in your heart.

Maybe I was afraid that you’d reject me for being too young or childish for you, but I know you’re not that kind of guy. I know it. I know you.

If there is any chance that there could be a you and I, please meet me at the gates of my flight.

Love,

Hayley.

His heart raced as he started to take it all in.

All this time, she felt the same! But then, who avoided him receiving this letter those five years ago?

He thought as he tried not to sound too interested in when would Hayley come back.

Then, his phone rang. Felicity Holloway. He answered politely “Yes?”

“Hello, Ernest! I was thinking about whether we should get a coffee and talk. Remember that my father said five years ago that I’d be a good girlfriend to you in that dinner? Well, I was thinking—.”

“Felicity, may I know when was that dinner? I’m in a bit of a hurry. Business to get done.”

Could she be cruel enough to do that?

“Oh, that was in the 12th of December, after we got rid of that scum of Parker—.”

He couldn’t even stop himself “So it was you, then?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You knew about the letter. The one where Hayley confessed she reciprocated my feelings for her!”

“I—.”

“We will talk soon about privacy… and boundaries.” And then, he hanged up.

His mother emerged and placed a hand on his shoulder “Go, my boy. Run to her. Do not become her father. No matter what, go to her.”

He didn’t know how, but he understood that weren’t for his mother, this couldn’t be happening.

So he ran. And ran. And ran. He didn’t stop, even though there was a small drizzle going on.

He arrived at Westminster Bridge, a bit soaked and panting. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was, older, a bit tanner and more beautiful than ever. They looked at each other in the eyes. She approached him slowly, and so did he. And then, they were close. Two more steps and he was all hers.

“Ernest, I—.”

He kissed her, without thinking, he just kissed her. And she kissed him back, her hands on his shoulder and hair, not noticing that some paparazzis followed them. Ernest felt like in heaven. Her lips, with the taste of mint as he dreamed many times, duplicated, now mint and a bit of coffee and cherry lipstick. And it tasted so good. He begged her closer and she obliged, biting his lip, making him shudder. They finally separated, now noticing that people were applauding and it was raining heavily, but his mind was too fuzzy, his only thought Hayley.

“Hayley… Hayls. I must know… do you truly have feelings for me?”

She kissed him again, now a bit shortly, a small smile on her lips “I do. Do you?”

“For longer than I care to admit.”

She chuckled, noticing that her makeup was now a mess all over her face and the powerful rain now sent her a chill through her body. Ernest quickly gathered his jacket and placed it on her shoulders and scolded the paparazzis for interrupting a moment.

He called a cab, paying the ride as he handed her a napkin to clean her face. Even though she was all a mess, she was still beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She smiled at him “So, what does this make us?”

The cab stopped on her townhouse and he took her hand and guarded her on the porch and looked at her “It’d make you my girlfriend, if that is what you want of me.”

She beamed at him, encircling her hands on his shoulders “I’d like nothing more.”

And with that, they kissed again, under the rain, happily knowing that somehow, this wouldn’t end.

#playchoices fanfic #desire and decorum #desire and decorum au #the detective and the businessman #ernest sinclaire #ernest x mc #ernest x hayley #oc: hayley parker

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orwocolor · 6 years ago

Text

with borhap boys on honeymoon

AN: Requested by anonymous. Although smut is implied, these are still rather fluffy than anything else. As always, the rest of the boys are under the cut. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment!

Gwilym

you and gwil are strolling the streets of a small town where you rented a whole house for your honeymoon, mindlessly wandering and admiring the old stone houses and charming gardens

it is nice to stretch your legs in this way after quite some time of being otherwise occupied

gwil pulls out his phone every now and then to take a picture of your picturesque surroundings

he manages to do that with one hand because the other refuses to let go of the warmth of your palm

you watch him with utmost love and adoration

when you reach the edge of the island, you gaze at the horizon for a few moments in companionable silence

“admit it”

“what?” gwil tears his gaze away from the view

“admit I was right,” you smile at him cheekily and squeeze his hand

“maybe...” he slowly answers

“’maybe’? just ‘maybe’? this is heaven on earth,” you stretch out your arms as if you could gather in your embrace the dark cliffs, the trees bending in the wind and the vast sea that spreads in front of you

“I’m not denying that,” gwil chuckles “I just think it wasn’t worth of leaving the bedroom, we have our own heaven there”

“but what would be the point of taking me to the channel islands for our honeymoon if I were not to see them!”

“okay, okay, point taken,” he answers with amusement “all I’m saying is that, I don’t know, we didn’t have to go today but tomorrow”

“that’s what you’ve been saying for the last few days,” you let go of his hand to his great dismay but soon you snake your hands around his torso, placing them on his lower back and thus pulling him closer to you “we needed to get some fresh air, love, we’ve been closed in that bedroom for more than a week”

“and in the kitchen, and the dining room, and the living room, and the bathroom, and even in the larder! that was fun,” he bites his lip and waggles his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling with mischief as his hands cradle your cheeks

“it was, wasn’t it?” you laugh out loud, glee vibrating in every cell of your body as the memory fills your mind “remind me we have to do it again”

“as you wish,” he presses a hungry kiss against your lips and you are quick to open your mouth, allowing him in

his fingers travel to the hem of your shirt and they sneak their way underneath, leaving goosebumps of excitement in their trail

gwil deepens the kiss, tilting you back so much that you think you might lose your balance soon

“stop it, stop it, we can’t have sex here,” you giggle when you finally break the kiss to take a breath

“why not?” he asks innocently

“erm... because literally all local residents may just look out of their windows and spot us??”

“shall we return to our bedroom then?” he says, his face smug

oh, he’s so pleased with himself

you shake your head in amusement and kiss the tip of his nose

“yes”

Joe

“wow,” you breathe out, still panting hard

“right?”

“wow, just... wow, I’m speechless, that was... wow,” you are staring at the ceiling, still quite not believing what just happened

“oh well, thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” joe chuckles next to you, the sound itself sending another wave of heat into your core

you twist your neck to look into his face

“how did you... I mean, what you suddenly did with your hips... where did you learn that?” you still can’t wrap your mind about it

was it just the honeymoon fever that made it all more breath-taking?

or did joe...

“I’m a natural talent, really,” he answers but you notice how he quickly averts his eyes

“joe, I know you for a few years now, you’ve never done anything like that... come on, tell me the truth, you can’t lie to your wife,” you say with a smile

his fingers brushing off an invisible speck of dust from a duvet, he’s stubbornly avoiding your questioning gaze

“joe,” you repeat, your voice serious now

he groans loudly and grasps a pillow, pushing it against his face with force

all you can hear are some incomprehensible sounds muffled into the pillow

you snatch it away and straddle his hips "come on, joe, tell me, or your sides gonna fall victim to my merciless fingers,” the fingers in question lightly tickle him as you smirk down at him and place a little kiss on his lips, silently letting him know that he can tell you anything

“I may have read something about it,” he starts slowly

“what?” you ask, confused

“I googled top ten tips how to pleasure a woman and rock her world,” a slight pink blush graces his gorgeous face

“why would you do that? I’ve never had a single complaint, have I”

you cannot believe your ears

"a honeymoon should be something special, so I thought I should up my game a bit, I didn’t want to let you down,” he looks so sad and embarrassed and your heart is breaking at that sight

you can’t help but give him a kiss

“honey, our honeymoon is special because it’s the two of us! it is special because it is you, and only you, I’m here with, and no one in the whole wide universe can match up to you,” you say sincerely, moved by his actions as tears start welling in your eyes

“I love you,” your voice almost break on the last syllable

“I love you, too,” he runs his fingers through your hair and you lean into the touch

“thank you, joe, my love, for being so considerate,” you kiss him again and the kiss is filled with all your emotions

“now,” you clear your throat and a glint returns to your eyes “let me thank you properly”

Ben

“bye, bye, we love you, see you in two weeks, bye!”

you and ben are smiling widely and waving at your relatives, who have decided to see you to the airport

and they insisted on accompanying you as far as the airport staff would allow them

so now you are staying a few feets apart, a glass wall at the security gate separating you from the rest of your families

“how much longer are we supposed to do this?” you ask through your gritted teeth, your smile not wavering for a single moment

“hopefully, not much,” ben answers as he keeps waving at them

but they do not seem overly inclined to leave any time soon, so ben shouts his last “love you”, puts his arm around your shoulder and leads you away from their view

"your mum’s gonna kill you for that”

“nah, she’ll be fine,” he says nonchalantly, but immediately pulls out his phone and sets the airplane mode on

you give him an amused look

“what? you should do it, otherwise they’re gonna bombard you with texts as well”

okay, he’s right, so you follow his lead

you finally get to the business lounge and plop down on cushioned seats

you both release a content sigh and close your eyes

the wedding and all its preparations turned out to be more exhaustive than you had anticipated

since your families took it as a great opportunity to get to know each other, they decided to book a hotel near the barn where your wedding reception would take place and spent the week prior to the wedding there with you

they even took a leave from their work! they hosted brunches and dinners

they also talked into everything, every tiny detail, “do you really think these flowers match the table linen?” “your hair would look better up rather than down” “the bridegroom should have a jacket, not only a vest!”

it was delightful, really

and you had enough of your relatives and hoped not to see them for some time now

also the hotel in which you were staying and where you spent your wedding night? you can bet your cousins and nephews and nieces were constantly running down the halls, your grandma tried to get into your locked room several times, thinking it was her room, and ben’s uncle was singing drinking songs at the top of his lungs right underneath your window the whole night, so of course you and ben still haven’t properly become man and wife

speaking of which, you take a peek at ben who’s stretched in the chair, looking at you with adoration

“how is my wife?” he asks softly and takes your hand in his, caressing your knuckles and his thumb makes contact with your wedding ring every now and then

“I like the sound of that,” you whisper right back and lean closer to him as you place a kiss on his lips, “now I’m happy”

he cradles your face in his hands and presses his forehead against yours “me too”

“but do you know what would make me even happier?” he asks, a mischevious spark lightening up in his eyes

“what?” you ask curiously and move even closer to him

he pointedly looks behind your shoulder and you follow his gaze to see a restroom

“really? here?” you chuckle

“well, we didn’t get the chance before, I thought I would wait for our honeymoon suite, but frankly, I don’t think I can wait any longer. we still have some time before the take-off, and the flight is not exactly short, and we don’t have to necessarily start our marriage by joining the mile high club”

“dang it, that’s what I was hoping for,” you laugh

“shush, mrs hardy, we can still join it on our way home”

you grin at him and press another kiss on his cheeks

“so, what do you think?” he whispers into your ear

you clasp his hand in yours and give him a cheeky smile

“okay, let’s go”

Rami

“here’s your hotel card mr and mrs malek, enjoy your stay”

“thank you,” rami answers the receptionist and whispers into your ear “oh I’m planning on enjoying it for sure”

you swat at his shoulder lightly, but you cannot fight the smile that grows on your face

you enter a lift and get to the highest floor

the elevator door opens with a soft ding and you find yourself in a luxurious hall

“okay, close your eyes”

“rami,” you insist, not exactly in a mood to play some games

“please, close them”

he makes puppy eyes at you and you huff in defeat

“fine,” you say and promptly do so, waiting for his next move

you don’t know what you were expecting but it for sure wasn’t his hands covering your eyes

“I’ve closed them!” you argue

“well, one can never be sure,” he chuckles behind you and his warm breath hits the back of your neck, sending a wave of shivers down your spine

you start walking forward in the general area of your suite

rami stops you to open the door and he’s quick to assume his position behind you, nudging you slightly to step out again

first you thought there would be some surprise in your suite, but he leads you presumably out on the balcony as you feel fresh evening air fanning over your face

he slowly brings his hands them and tells you to open your eyes

“if I could, I would give you the whole world, but this as good as it gets I’m afraid,” he is nervous all of a sudden and you stare in astonishment at the view right in front of you

it is all laid out in front of you; the city and its streetlamps illuminating the streets, the cliffs and white beaches in the distance and an enormous sea in which the setting sun admires its beauty as its rays immerse the view in warm orange hues

“rami,” you breathe out, moved to tears “this is beautiful”

you turn to him and see his lips shaking slightly as he’s overwhelmed with emotions

“I love you,” he whispers and gulps audibly, “you mean the world to me”

“so do you,” you answer and your lips meet in a deep kiss

when you part, he strokes your hair and gazes into your eyes with an undeniable love

“having the privilege of calling you my wife, I am the luckiest man on earth”

“I know that feeling,” you chuckle through tears “now take me to bed, rami, I want to make love with my husband”

#gwilym lee x reader #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy x reader #rami malek x reader #borhap boys headcanons #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee imagine #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy imagine #rami malek fluff #rami malek imagine #headcanons #borhap boys x reader #vee writes #*mine #ben's a bit longer because of all the unnecessary background info #but it was fun writing it so here you have it

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lawrenceop · 5 years ago

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HOMILY for the 4th Sun of Lent (Dominican rite)

Gal 4:22-31; John 6:1-15

Over the past week, I have been writing daily reflections for a Novena focussed on the joys of Mary. This Novena, on Hozana.org, began on Friday and is a preparation for the Rededication of England to Our Blessed Mother next Sunday. Hence, despite the bewildering and confusing and disorientating times we find ourselves in during this pandemic, I have been thinking about joy and writing about the joy of Our Lady, the Mother of God.

Therefore, today’s Liturgy, with its theme of joy has very much been the focus of my week and of my prayer, even though, like you, I have also felt fear, anxiety, worry, and sorrow this week. The newspapers and our social media and WhatsApp groups are full of sad and worrisome news, and these can gnaw away at us which is why most mornings, I try and get away from it all and pray the Rosary in the Rosary Garden with Our Lady of Cana. Whenever I pray the Rosary, it is like holding our Blessed Mother’s hand, and she reassures us and consoles us, her children. As the Entrance antiphon, the Officium today says: “Rejoice, O Jerusalem, and come together all you that love her… and be filled from her consoling breasts.”

But only this morning, we heard about an earthquake that struck Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, where the people had been in lockdown. Wave upon wave of tragedy strikes us daily. Where, then, is our joy? In our streets, now silent, the laughter and cheer has evaporated. How can we continue to preach joy, in our Sunday Liturgy, and in this Novena on the joys of Mary? Sitting at home, unable to find a public Mass and the consolation of the Church’s sacraments that you need, you might feel quite bereft of joy, and even a little angry. Many of us in this country, who observe Mother’s Day on the 4th Sunday of Lent, will feel joyless because we cannot be with our mothers because of social distancing. How, then, can joy be restored to us?

But persistently, and insistently, the Liturgy says to us – and so it is the Holy Spirit speaking to us today – “Rejoice with joy, you that have been in sorrow: that you may exult, and be filled from her consoling breasts. I rejoiced at the things that were said to me: We shall go into the house of the Lord.”

Now, many of you might think this is somewhat ironic seeing that in some places, even the churches are locked! Yet the Gradual says again: “I rejoiced at the things that were said to me: We shall go into the house of the Lord.” This psalm, 121, is one of the psalms of ascent, sung when pilgrims arrived at the city of Jerusalem and glimpsed the Temple where God dwelt on earth. It is also the psalm found throughout the Office of the Dead: “I rejoiced when I heard them say: let us go to God’s house!” Therefore, when the Liturgy sings this psalm, as it does today on the 4th Sunday of Lent, it is not speaking about simply going to church, or up to the Temple of Jerusalem. No, it is speaking about the pilgrimage of life itself, and when each of us pilgrim Christians comes to the end of that journey, at death, we can rejoice because, thanks to Jesus Christ, we can now glimpse the heavenly City, the new Jerusalem; we rejoice that we can go up to God’s house and dwell in his presence eternally, freed from the corruption of sin, sickness, and death. St Paul thus says in the epistle: “the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother.”

Today’s Liturgy, therefore, calls us to rejoice because Christ has opened for us the gates to the heavenly city, and we rejoice because He is the Way. Therefore, follow him. Walk with faith and hope along the road that is Christ’s, and let him lead us to that verdant mountain where He, our God will feed us and satisfy our every desire of body and soul, as today’s Gospel indicates. So, in the time you now have at home, read the Gospels and the letters of St Paul, read the Bible daily. Then, pray for the grace to put into practice what you’ve read, and follow Christ’s way, which is the way of Charity, of divine love. Then, as the Officium says, we shall “come together all [who] love her”, for all who love the new Jerusalem, and so, love God and love Our Lady will, at journey’s end, enter into the gates of heaven with joy.

How, then, do we recover our joy? Remember that we are on a journey through this “vale of tears”, and we hope and pray soon to reach our heavenly destination. So, remain close to Him who alone knows the Way. Many will be tempted to despair, or to doubt God’s goodness, or doubt the efficacy of prayer, or doubt that the Church cares or matters much. Many still will look for other consolations on earth, whether in drugs, or sexual pleasure, or alcohol, and other such bodily pleasures. Others still may even angrily mock God, and say that our sufferings on earth are a sign of God’s absence. Such people do not know the significance of the Cross. But as St Paul says: “since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach [ie: through the Cross] to save those who believe.” (1 Cor 1:21). And remember again the Gospels. Jesus says: “"Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven” (Mt 5:11-12)

For the psalm verse of our Entrance antiphon today then says: “you that have been in sorrow, rejoice with joy!” This is God’s promise to us Christians, that after the sorrows of this life, we shall rejoice with Our Lady who is Joy itself. Therefore, as we recalled last week on the feast of St Joseph, we pray for a blessed death like his, so that like St Joseph we may die in the company of Mary and Jesus. For many people, for our contemporaries, this talk of death seems “morbid”. But for far too long we have avoided thinking about our mortality, and we live each day and make our plans and arrangements, and we get on with our comfortable routines and we enjoy life’s many pleasures without giving much thought to the end. Distracted by all the pleasures of food and travel that we see on Instagram, we have neglected to remember death. But Lent is the time to do this, and this year, we all are being confronted with our mortality and our powerlessness before it. For the end is inevitable no matter how advanced our science and medicine becomes – nobody holds the cure for death.

Except Jesus Christ. He alone has risen from the dead, he alone holds the keys to life and death. And the wonderful joyful news that we Christians have is that he has used those keys to open the gates of heaven to us; he is our Saviour; he is the divine Physician who gives us the remedy for sin and death. So we can rejoice, even in the midst of suffering and pain and sorrow, as countless Christians before us have done, because Christ has walked the Way to eternal life, he has charted the course of charity for each of us, and therefore he calls us to “rejoice in joy”. For as St Paul says in the epistle today: “we… are children of promise”. Let us have faith and hope in that promise, and indeed, let the promise of heaven, of union with Christ through our love and through our sufferings, be our great joy. As Jesus says, therefore, “rejoice because your names are written in heaven.” (Lk 10:20)

In a week’s time, we shall rededicate ourselves to Mary the Mother of God. Rejoice, therefore! Rejoice, because by entrusting ourselves to Our Lady in this way, we ask Mary to write our names in heaven, to remember us before her merciful Son, and to give us refuge and shelter and consolation from her, our Mother. Let us be filled, therefore, “from her consoling breasts”! Mary, who represents the new and heavenly Jerusalem is thus also our Mother above. Whoever remains within the embrace of Our Lady will not be moved in these times even as God is shaking the heavens and the earth and all the powers of this world. For as the Tract today says: “They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Sion: he shall not be moved forever, he who dwells in Jerusalem… [for] the Lord surrounds his people, both now and for ever.”

#joy #salvation #rejoice #Our Lady #death #Christ #resurrection #eternal life

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centerofstupidity · 5 years ago

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Varney the Vampire Chapter 3

If you enjoy the content you are reading, please like and follow the Center of Stupidity blog.

Interested in reading the previous Varney the Vampire chapter snarks? They can be found here.

Chapter summary: Our intrepid heroes the local village idiots shoot Varney. Of course, Varney is wearing thick plot armor.

Which means we get another chapter where characters standing and talking along with more melodrama.

In the event that this gets flagged, here is another place to read the chapter snark.

"He is human!" cried Henry;

You just saw a guy with "metallic eyes" whose mouth was "dabbled in blood" after attacking Flora.

But you are still coming to the conclusion that Varney is human...

Wow, somebody has the I.Q. of Bella Swan.

And yes...

I know that prior to this story being published, vampire lore wasn't well known and culturally speaking vampires were a rather new phenomenon in England.

But if somebody saw what Henry had seen, their first thought wouldn't be "That guy was human and not a supernatural creature."

"I have surely killed him."

He was wearing thick plot armor.

Marchdale agrees and says that they should go outside the wall and find the body.

And here comes a long sentence.

This was at once agreed to,

Hopefully this means we won't have another chapter where characters are just standing around talking to each other.

and the whole three of them made what expedition they could towards a gate

Who knew heading towards a gate was such a strenuous task?

which let into a paddock, across which they hurried, and soon found themselves clear of the garden wall,

According to Merriam Webster, a paddock is usually enclosed area used especially for pasturing or exercising animals.

And the Collins dictionary states that a paddock is a field where horses are kept or exercised.

So why would anyone have a garden next to a paddock?

First of all, you'd be smelling animal droppings.

And the end of the day, somebody would be walking the animals through the garden in order to put them in the stable or barn.

So...

so that they could make way towards where they fully expected to find the body of him

And I bet dollars to doughnuts that they won't find a corpse.

who had worn so unearthly an aspect,

Maybe because he is....

I don't know... Not human!

but who it would be an excessive relief to find was human.

Because a blood-drinking fiend is normal.

So hurried was the progress they made,

That they were sweating like pigs!

that it was scarcely possible to exchange many words as they went;

Unless they suddenly lost the ability to speak...

They can still talk.

a kind of breathless anxiety was upon them,

Sorry, authors.

I don't care what happens to these people.

and in the speed they disregarded every obstacle,

Because in a potential dangerous situation...

It is sensible to be unaware of one's surroundings.

which would, at any other time, have probably prevented them from taking the direct road they sought.

Is the gate obstructed by litter or debris?

If so, why?

And if not, what would have prevented them from taking the direct route?

It was difficult on the outside of the wall to say exactly which was the precise spot which it might be supposed the body had fallen on;

Unless Henry has the attention span of a ferret high on crack...

Henry should remember where he shot Varney.

And by knowing that, he could determine where the body should be.

but, by following the wall its entire length, surely they would come upon it.

I bet that they are not going to find a body.

They did so; but, to their surprise,

Found a leprechaun.

they got from its commencement to its further extremity without finding any dead body, or even any symptoms of one having lain there.

Varney is alive!

Well... For a member of the Undead.

At some parts close to the wall there grew a kind of heath, and, consequently, the traces of blood would be lost among it,

According to Collins Dictionary, a heath is an area of open land covered with rough grass or heather and with very few trees or bushes.

And Merriam Webster defines it as a type of plant or uncultivated land usually with poor and coarse soil.

Which means they are referring to a type of plant.

So unless it has the magical ability to absorb blood...

The three men should be able to find blood if Varney was wounded.

And now that I'm thinking about it, a vampire plant is a cool idea.

if it so happened that at the precise spot at which the strange being had seemed to topple over, such vegetation had existed.

Ugh. Reading this made my brain hurt.

So there was some vegetation when Varney fell over...

And now it no longer exists.

Even though we were told a few seconds ago that the plants made it impossible to see any blood.

So the three guys walk around the wall twice and they can't find anything.

"It could not have been a delusion," at length said Mr. Marchdale, with a shudder.

Also, that's not how delusions work.

Just you see something, doesn't mean that it is real.

And sometimes the delusions are very vivid.

"Then what terrible explanation can we give?"

This sentence sounds weird. It is because they used the word "terrible". Right now, it sounds like one of the men are asking for a bad explanation.

I think the correct word would be "other." But as Mark Twain wisely said:

"By heavens! I know not," exclaimed Henry.

If you knew what was going on, then you wouldn't be bewildered.

"This adventure surpasses all belief, and but for the great interest we have in it, I should regard it with a world of curiosity."

*Takes a deep breath *

That's right, gentlepersons.

A person has been brutally attacked.

But the situation is described as being an "adventure."

Fuck this book with a chainsaw!

"It is too dreadful," said George; "for God's sake, Henry, let us return to ascertain if poor Flora is killed."

You mean that it is a good idea to do an investigation before coming to a conclusion???

"My senses," said Henry, "were all so much absorbed in gazing at that horrible form, that I never once looked towards her further than to see that she was, to appearance, dead. God help her! poor -- poor, beautiful Flora. This is, indeed, a sad, sad fate for you to come to. Flora -- Flora -- "

"Do not weep, Henry," said George. "Rather let us now hasten home, where we may find that tears are premature. She may yet be living and restored to us."

They all agree and hurried back to the house.

Henry, after some trouble, got the hall door opened by a terrified servant, who was trembling so much that she could scarcely hold the light she had with her.

"Speak at once, Martha," said Henry. "Is Flora living?"

"Yes; but -- "

"Enough -- enough! Thank God she lives; where is she now?"

Martha says that Flora is in her bedroom and proceeds to freak out. The three guys rush into the room.

Several lights had been now brought into that antique chamber,

But they clashed with the decor.

and, in addition to the mother of the beautiful girl who had been so fearfully visited,

Somebody placed a creepy clown doll on the nightstand.

there were two female domestics, who appeared to be

using their cell phones and are on Twitter.

in the greatest possible fright,

Because after seeing Flora's mother in a sheer nightgown...

Somethings can't be unseen.

for they could render no assistance whatever to anybody.

Translation?

They are useless.

The tears were streaming down the mother's face,

Because some asshole randomly decided to cut a lot of onions.

and the moment she saw Mr. Marchdale, she clung to his arm,

She was doing a Bella Swan impersonation.

evidently unconscious of what she was about,

Um...

She suddenly doesn't know who she is?

and exclaimed, --

Shitty dialogue mixed with an exposition dump.

"Oh, what is this that has happened -- what is this? Tell me, Marchdale! Robert Marchdale, you whom I have known even from my childhood, you will not deceive me. Tell me the meaning of all this?"

Aside from the "As you know Bob" dialogue...

The mother called Marchdale by his surname and then used his full name.

This doesn't make any sense.

In Victorian times, especially in formal settings, people would be referred to by their surnames or titles.

But if people were friends, they would be calling each other by their first name.

So the mother would be referring to Richard Marchdale as Richard.

Also, just because you know someone from childhood....

It doesn't mean that they are a honest person.

"I cannot," he said, in a tone of much emotion.

"As God is my judge, I am as much puzzled and amazed at the scene that has taken place here to-night as you can be."

And in other news, the Pope is Catholic and bears shit in the woods.

Anyway, the mother bawled her eyes out. I don't blame her.

I would too if I found out that I was a character in a penny dreadful.

"It was the storm that first awakened me," added Marchdale; "and then I heard a scream."

Let's rewind, shall we?

Marchdale asked the two brothers what's going on.

Then Flora started shrieking.

The sound caused Flora's mom to faint.

Marchdale grabs her so she doesn't hit the floor.

He tells Harry/Henry to hold his mother.

Finally, Marchdale cries “Follow me who can!” as he heads towards Flora's room.

What does all this mean?

Flora's mother and the three men heard a noise. Which means, Marchdale wasn't the only one that heard screaming.

Also, Marchdale never previously mentioned that he was awakened by the storm.

Normally, the second point wouldn't be suspicious. But considering the fact that Marchdale lied...

It sounds like he is trying to create an alibi.

In conclusion?

Anyway, the brothers are quivering as they approach the bed. Flora is sitting in bed, being propped up with pillows.

She was quite insensible,

How is this unusual?

It would be MORE surprising if Flora was in a lively mood.

and her face was fearfully pale;

All you need is some glitter, and Flora would be a perfect sparklepire.

while that she breathed

Another vampire failed in killing a damsel in distress.

at all

If Flora doesn't breathe, she would be dead.

could be but very faintly seen.

Um...

People normally don't take deep and heavy breaths.

On some of her clothing,

There was yellow stains.

about the neck, were spots of blood,

How is that possible???

When Varney bit Flora, blood was gushing.

Which means the nightgown and the bed sheets should be soaked with blood.

and she looked more like one who had suffered some long and grievous illness,

You mean when someone is mauled by a vampire, they aren't going to look gorgeous??

Thanks for letting me know!

than a young girl in the prime of life and in the most robust health,

"She was so fit that she could do a triathlon!"

as she had been on the day previous

Because according to Varney the Vampire's logic...

Only healthy people are attacked by vampires.

to the strange scene we have recorded.

It isn't a normal occurrence to be attacked by a vampire.

"Does she sleep?" said Henry

Because the first words that should come out of a person's mouth after someone has been attacked...

Is to ask if they are sleeping.

as a tear fell from his eyes upon her pallid cheek.

Ah, the single tear.

How nauseating.

"No," replied Mr. Marchdale. "This is a swoon, from which we must recover her."

Quick! Somebody fetch the smelling salts!

Active measures were now adopted

Because reviving a damsel in distress is urgent!

Cue the dramatic music!

to restore the languid circulation,

Uh, "languid circulation"?

According to Merriam Webster, languid is defined as being "sluggish" or "lacking in force or quickness in movement."

Correct me if I'm wrong...

If somebody has slow circulation, it means that they have a serious health problem.

and, after persevering in them for some time, they had the satisfaction of seeing her open her eyes.

Instead of being relieved that Flora is awake...

They seem annoyed that it took so long for her to regain consciousness.

Her first act upon consciousness returning,

Was to exclaim her undying devotion to Varney.

however, was to utter a loud shriek,

A shriek is hardly quiet.

and it was not until Henry implored her

"Implored her”?

I guess only a filthy peasant would have used the word begged or pleaded.

to look around her,

To find that the hills are alive with the sound of music.

and see that she was surrounded by none but friendly faces, that she would venture again to open her eyes,

...

.......

Previously, Flora's eyes were already open.

But now, her eyes were closed but she then opened them.

'Ello contradiction!

and look timidly from one to the other.

At least she looked at them "timidly".

It would be unbecoming of a lady to act like a New Woman.

After Flora shuttered, she starts crying and says:

"Oh, Heaven, have mercy upon me -- Heaven, have mercy upon me and save me from that dreadful form."

"There is no one here, Flora," said Mr. Marchdale,

There is:

Mr. Marchdale

Harry/Henry

George

Flora's mother

Two female servants

In total, there are six people in the room excluding Flora.

What Marchdale meant to say was there is nobody here that will harm her.

But as Mark Twain wisely said:

"but those who love you,

"If they really hated you, they would have buried you alive."

and who, in defence of you, if needs were would lay down their lives."

"Despite the fact that you have the personality of stale toast, we would die to save you."

Now that I'm thinking about it... If this was an Anita Blake book, this would result into a sex scene.

So after Mr. Marchdale's declaration, Flora starts yelling "Oh, God!"

"You have been terrified.

"Mr. Marchdale, why are you repeating the obvious?"

"It is because the authors think that the reader has the IQ of a house plant."

But tell us distinctly what has happened?

Gotta love how they must be told "distinctly".

I guess only peasants would only ask what happened.

You are quite safe now."

"Ignore the fact that while you were mauled by an unholy abomination, we bumblefucked around. But believe me when I say that everything is going to be alright."

She trembled so violently that

She resembled a chihuahua defecating on the lawn.

Mr. Marchdale recommended that some stimulant should be give to her,

Because even though the unholy creature will most likely return to try and suck Flora dry, it is best that she be high as a kite.

and she was persuaded,

Because it is like her mama taught her: when somebody offers free drugs, you accept the offer and then ask for a straw.

although not without considerable difficulty,

Because it was the first time, she stuck a needle in her vein.

to swallow a small portion of some wine from a cup.

Because drinking something is a strenuous task.

There could be no doubt but

First it was certain but now it isn't.

In conclusion:

that the stimulating effect of the wine

Alcohol is a depressant.

was beneficial,

Because when someone has been traumatized, the best thing to do is give them booze.

for a slight accession of colour

According to the Cambridge dictionary, "accession" is a time when a country officially joins a group of countries or signs an agreement. It is also used when someone starts a position of authority especially a king or queen.

While Merriam-Webster defines "accession" as a process that someone rises to a position of power or something being added (such as an acquisition).

Which means that "accession" is not a synonym for "spread" or "blushed."

So in conclusion:

visited her cheeks,

At least it visited her.

A churl would have arrived unannounced.

and she spoke in a firmer tone as she said, --

Spoke is past tense word for speak and said is a past tense word for say.

Both words are used when someone is talking.

Which makes this part of this sentence redundant: . . . colour visited her cheeks, and she spoke in a firmer tone as she said, --

Personally, I would remove re-write the sentence as this:

. . . colour visited her cheeks and she spoke in a firm voice.

"Do not leave me. Oh, do not leave me, any of you. I shall die if left alone now. Oh, save me -- save me. That horrible form! That fearful face!"

There is only so much melodrama that a person can endure, so I'll try to summarize some of it.

Henry asks Flora what happened. Flora then refuses to tell him.

Her reasoning? If she did that, then she would "ever sleep again."

Eventually, Henry convinces Flora to tell them what had transpired.

She placed her hands over her face for a moment, as if to collect her scattered thoughts,

Last time I checked...

If someone placed their hands over the face, it doesn't stop them from losing their train of thought.

and then she added, --

"By the way, I'm bi."

"I was awakened by the storm, and I saw that terrible apparition at the window. I think I screamed, but I could not fly. Oh, God! I could not fly. It came -- it seized me by the hair. I know no more. I know no more."

Uh "could not fly"?

Humans don't have wings. Flora should know this.

Honestly, it would make more sense if Flora said that she could not flee.

After Flora runs her hand across her neck several times, Marchdale notices that she has a wound.

After he points out the obvious, Flora's mom freaks out and brings a light closer to the bed. This causes them to all see the wound but it is now only two small puncture marks.

It was from these wounds the blood had come which was observable upon her night clothing.

Especially since the authors are hell bent on insisting that Flora's wounds are the size of paper cuts.

Since Henry has the same amount of brain cells as Bella Swan, he asks Flora how she got the wounds.

Of course, this causes Flora to reply that she doesn't know but it felt like she "almost bled to death."

"You cannot have done so, dear Flora, for there are not above half-a-dozen spots of blood to be seen at all."

When Varney bit her, blood gushed.

That does not cause pinprick stains.

Mr. Marchdale leaned against the carved head of the bed for support, and he uttered a deep groan. All eyes were turned upon him,

Instead of focusing on the vampire victim, we should care about this guy being so anguished.

and Henry said, in a voice of the most anxious inquiry, --

"Have you something to say, Mr. Marchdale, which will throw some light upon this affair."

Instead of a period, there should be a question mark since Henry/Harry is asking Mr. Marchdale something.

Mr. Marchdale then insists that he has nothing to say and that Flora should get some sleep.

"No sleep -- no sleep for me," again screamed Flora. "Dare I be alone to sleep?"

Anywho… Henry assures Flora that she won't be alone because he will watch over her.

She took his hand in both hers, and while the tears chased each other down her cheeks, she said, –

"Promise me, Henry, by all your hopes of Heaven, you will not leave me."

"I promise."

Henry and Flora are siblings.

....

................

Somewhere Cassandra Clare is all hot and bothered.

Anywho…

Flora laid down, sighed, and then closed her eyes.

"She is weak, and will sleep long," said Mr. Marchdale.

Two things.

Flora being weak? No shit Sherlock.

As for Flora sleeping soundly? That depends. She could have a nightmare and wake up.

"You sigh," said Henry.

Marchdale didn't sigh. Flora did.

"Some fearful thoughts, I feel certain, oppress your heart."

It can't oppress the heart of the mailman who lives at the end of the street.

"Hush -- hush!" said Mr. Marchdale, as he pointed to Flora. "Hush! not here -- not here."

"I understand," said Henry.

"Let her sleep."

Can she though?

I don’t know about you, but if people were in my bedroom talking and yelling…

It would wake me up.

It turns out that Flora is in a deep slumber. Hard to believe, I know.

The idiots are quiet for a minutes before George says something.

He tells Mr. Marchdale to look at it.

He pointed to the portrait in the frame to which we have alluded,

Translation: Wink wink! The portrait that we subtly pointed out is significant.

and the moment Marchdale looked at it

He thought: "Man, that picture is nightmare fuel."

he sunk into a chair

Because as it turns out, it was a bean bag chair.

as he exclaimed, -- "Gracious Heaven, how like!"

Aside from being redundant...

It is also cringe-worthy.

"It is -- it is," said Henry. "Those eyes -- "

"Pierce right though me."

"I wonder if he is related to my mother in law."

"And see the contour of the countenance,

According to Merriam Webster, contour is a structure of something or is an outline of a irregular figure.

Usually, contour is used to describe architecture or a shape of a car.

Which means the right word to use would be silhouette not contour.

In conclusion:

and the strange shape of the mouth."

"Who knew that someone can have a hexagon shaped mouth?"

"Exact -- exact."

Why is he saying the same word twice?

"That picture shall be moved from here.

The correct word is portrait.

A picture can be a representation of a building, a landscape, or a person.

While a portrait is a painting or a picture of a person, especially the head and the shoulders.

In conclusion?

The sight of it is at once sufficient to awaken all her former terrors in poor Flora's brain if she should chance to awaken and cast her eyes suddenly upon it."

Too verbose.

It would be better if he just said "The sight of it will frighten Flora if she wakes up and looks at the portrait."

"And is it so like him who came here?" said the mother.

Why does everyone in the story have the same amount of brain cells as Bella Swan?

In case you are wondering, Bella has four brain cells.

Of course Marchdale confirms that yes, it is the same person.

"I have not been in this house long enough to ask any of you whose portrait that may be?"

Wait a tick...

Marchdale is a friend of Flora's mother.

So he must have been to the house multiple times.

Which means that the first part of the sentence is absolute horseshit.

As for the second part?

It makes sense that Marchdale didn't see the portrait since it is in Flora's bedroom.

A man entering a lady's bedroom that isn't a doctor would have created a scandal.

"It is," said Henry, "the portrait of Sir Runnagate Bannerworth, an ancestor of ours, who first, by his vices, gave the great blow to the family prosperity."

"Sir Runnagate Bannerworth"?

Reginald, Reynard, and Rupert are actual names.

Runnagate is not.

A quick Google search reveals that runagate is a word meaning "runaway", "vagabond", or "fugitive".

So bravo authors.

You have the subtlety of Stephenie Meyer.

"Indeed. How long ago?"

"About ninety years."

"Ninety years. 'Tis a long while -- ninety years."

It is really annoying when characters repeat stuff that that the reader already knows.

Aside from being redundant...

It is also treats the reader like they are an idiot who need everything to be spelled out in 72 pt Times New Roman font.

"You muse upon it."

"No, no. I do wish, and yet I dread -- "

"What?"

"To say something to you all. But not here -- not here. We will hold a consultation on this matter to-morrow. Not now -- not now."

Part of this chapter was dedicated to talking about Flora and the vampire.

'Ello continuity error!

Anyway... Henry tells everyone else they can go to bed because he is going to watch over Flora.

Of course, he describes it keeping "my sacred promise". Can anyone say melodramatic?

Henry also adds that "The daylight is coming quickly on."

"I will fetch you my powder-flask and bullets," said Mr. Marchdale; "and you can, if you please, reload the pistols. In about two hours more it will be broad daylight."

First, the daylight is quickly approaching.

But now it is going to appear in two hours.

Which is it authors?

This arrangement was adopted.

It was placed with a loving family.

Henry did reload the pistols, and placed them on a table by the side of the bed, ready for immediate action,

In other words...

You only reload a gun if you are intending to use it.

and then, as Flora was sleeping soundly,

It is still pretty impressive that she is sleeping...

Considering the fact that people are talking and moving around.

all left the room but himself. Mrs. Bannerworth was the last to do so.

She would have remained,

Because mommy dearest was busy reading the newspaper.

but for the earnest solicitation of Henry,

At least the solicitation was sincere.

Because if it wasn't, it should be refused out of principle.

that she would endeavour to get some sleep to make up for her broken night's repose,

...

..........

Why can't the authors just say that Henry pleaded with his mother go to bed?

It is much more concise than this verbose sentence.

and she was indeed so broken down by her alarm on Flora's account,

How is this surprising?

It would be alarming if Flora's mother acted annoyed that Flora survived.

that she had not power to resist,

Before, Flora's mom wanted to stay.

Now she can't wait to leave.

Because only losers care about consistency!

but with tears flowing from her eyes,

Um...

Do tears flow anywhere else?

she sought her own chamber.

How is that unusual? People usually have their own bedroom.

Unless they are sharing a room with someone.

...

Now I can't help but wonder if Flora's mother wanted to spend the night with Marchdale.

Think that couldn't happen? Plenty of bad romance novels have a scene where a man comforts a woman and it results in sex.

And now the calmness of the night

There was inclement weather.

Hell, it was described as being the storm of the century.

resumed its sway

At least it swayed.

We don't want it standing idly by.

in that evil-fated mansion;

Because any horror writer knows, a good story always sucks the suspense out!

and although no one really slept but Flora,

Because most people would be sleeping soundly after a monster entered their home and attacked someone!

all were still.

They were practicing the pose used by many Mary Sues: wait around until life showers them with happiness.

Busy thought kept every one else wakeful.

And in other news: people will eventually die and karma is a bitch.

It was a mockery to lie down at all,

They all must have hated Flora.

Because they are "still."

and Henry, full of strange and painful feelings as he was,

If this was a Philippa Gregory novel, these emotions would be incestuous.

preferred his present position

Because angst makes him feel alive!

to the anxiety and apprehension

That the reader is supposed to be feeling but frankly doesn't give a damn.

on Flora's account

Rather than the account of Miss Smith, a spinster who is the local librarian.

which he knew he should feel if she were not within the sphere of his own observation,

...

Because two pistols are enough to stop a member of the Undead. Logic be damned!

and she slept as soundly

All thanks to Nyquil!

as some gentle infant tired of its playmates and its sports.

Because a vampire victim should be compared to a tired infant.

*Takes a deep breath *

Thankfully, this chapter finally ends.

#varney the vampire #book snark #bad fiction #chapter snark #snark

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sundry-whovengerslocked · 5 years ago

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Let Me Know, Tonight And Evermore - Chapter 1

Prompt and Post that inspired this fic

Special thanks to @crowleysansweringmachine and @ineffable0husbands for helping me with ideas and editing for this fic! Without you guys this would be... not so tickety-boo.

Warnings: mentioned war, mentioned genocide, angst, self-doubt/anxiety, some mutual pining

Tag list: @crowleysanwseringmachine @ineffable0husbands @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @elrilsf @askazfellandco @dystopianinterstellar @ampyrsandrya @chaosfandombeing @butttteeerrrrrr

It was the first of October, 1941, when the Principality Aziraphale opened the door to his bookshop to see the demon Crowley standing there, smelling of alcohol with tears in his eyes.

Now, dear reader, God at the time had been very busy, so I was in charge of watching over these unlikely friends during World War Two. You may ask who I am, and how I was there, but my story is for another time.

This tale is what we shall focus on: one of despair, one of War and Death, and one, ultimately, of hope and love.

Are you ready?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been about five months since the two immortal beings had stood in the ruins of a church during the Blitz; it had been just as long since Aziraphale finally realized he was completely smitten for Crowley.

Aziraphale had been reading, or at least trying to. He was absentmindedly leafing through one of his prophecy books (one that had been saved by a little demonic miracle), subconsciously fussing with his hair. The bookshop was quiet, as it had been since the beginning of the war.

So when he heard a rapid knocking on the door, after the sun had gone down, the man nearly jumped out of his chair. Shuffling to the front of the shop anxiously and opening the door, his eyebrows raised at the scene before him. The very being he had been thinking of was on his doorstep, in a sorry state: he was drunk and crying, sunglasses folded into his shirt collar.

"Angel... I need your help."

After a moment of staring, Aziraphale ushered Crowley inside - nervously making sure the sign said closed - then handed the distressed man a cup of just-miracled tea. He sat down across from him in his armchair, but Crowley reached out his hand to him. Aziraphale didn't think he had ever seen such desperation in his eyes before. He let himself be pulled over to sit next to him on the sofa before speaking.

"My dear, whatever is bothering you so much?"

Crowley took a single sip of his tea out of politeness before placing it down on the table. He took a deep breath, a moment to put his sunglasses back on, then lightly grabbed Aziraphale's hand.

Aziraphale swallowed, silently scolding the butterflies in his stomach.

"There... there was a massacre," Crowley said, voice breaking as he looked at the floor. "The 29th and 30th, in Kiev."

Here, allow me a brief digression. This slaughter of approximately 33,771 people at the ravine of Baba Yar was indeed real, and unfortunately I find myself knowing far too much about World War Two. I have known War for far too long, even if she does not remember me.

Now, throughout history, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves taking tragedies among humans to heart. They would try to distract themselves, or hide themselves away, or would lean on each other, all while fearing deep down the way their actions may have ill affect on humanity. World War Two, and in turn, the massacre of Baba Yar, were some such instances.

Crowley exhaled slowly. He squeezed Aziraphale's hand, for he knew the pain that would be coming for his friend. "Tens of thousands dead."

The angel looked at him sadly but intently, urging him to go on.

"Aziraphale... some of the wounds... there were burns. I've been hearing rumors through the grapevine, and..." Crowley turned his head to him, swallowing. "Angel, they have your sword."

The Guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, the one who gave away his flaming sword to the very first humans, felt his stomach plummet very suddenly. For what was at the very least a solid minute, he stared at his bookcases, processing what he had been told, all while attempting to anchor himself with the feeling of the messenger's hand on his own. Then, hesitantly, with his voice no louder than the squeak of a mouse, he spoke.

"What if I did... a bad thing?"

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, and he shifted on the sofa to face Aziraphale, nearly falling off as he did so. Huffing, he took a moment to sober up before talking. "No, angel, not at all! Remember what I said, all those years ago? You can't do the wrong thing."

Aziraphale frowned, tears forming in his eyes as he shook slightly. He took a sharp breath, pulling back his hand. "But what about what you said after that? If you did the right thing and I did the wrong thing?"

Crowley tried to interrupt, but his voice was louder now, sentences faster.

"I mean the apple, the apple gave them knowledge, it gave them creativity, it gave them this-" he gestured broadly to the books around him, "but the sword? The sword taught them violence, made them fight! The flaming sword might have been what gave birth to War in the first place!"

(War had not, in fact, been born of the Principality's flaming sword. She was created earlier, of the first Great War between Heaven and Hell. After all, there can't be war without War. So you mustn't worry there, reader.)

"Azir-Aziraphale!" Crowley finally managed to speak over him, placing his hands on his shoulders to get his attention. His expression was intense, even with his eyes hidden behind dark lenses. "You know as well as I do that the humans thought this all up on their own, even if it is horrible." He swallowed, not wanting to share with the angel the things he had seen recently. "Your sword falling into the hands of the wrong people is simply bad luck."

(It really was. I could go on to explain how some toast and a handful of careless magicians were involved, but let's continue with this story.)

The angel took a few deep, shuddering breaths, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. He felt hurt, deep in his soul. Something had to be done. "We have to get it back," he said, voice filled with conviction even as it wavered.

Crowley choked on his words for a moment before protesting: "Wh- No! No, angel, it's far too dangerous." He gripped his friend's upper arms, trying to get his point across. "That's a dreadful, stupid idea."

Aziraphale shook his head, not taking any of it. "No, Crowley, we must. We have to get it away from them." The demon began to speak again, but he cut him off. "You're a spy, for Her sake. You know how to infiltrate them. We can get it, and... and hide it away!"

Still hidden behind sunglasses, serpentine eyes widened until there was no white left. He was nervous, thinking not only of all the horrors he had seen in this war, but also all the close calls he's had in saving the life of the man he loved.

The two men stared at each other for a bit, letting the conversation sink in.

What Aziraphale put together, taken aback, was that Crowley had been using the word you, and that this demon really was concerned for an angel's safety. For Aziraphale's safety.

What Crowley realized, in the moments between, was that Aziraphale had been using the word we. Even with Crowley being adamant, he was determined that they could do this together. Maybe they were closer friends then he thought.

No matter what they felt, they were a team.

At least for now, they were on their own side.

"Dear," the blond man said, tone softer now as he tilted his head: "we can do it, I know we can. You can ask your fellow intelligence agents to help."

Crowley's breath hitched, and he dropped his hands back to his lap. "Angel... you don't understand how terrible it is out there... even without the sword."

Aziraphale kept eye contact. Or rather, eyes-to-sunglasses contact. "We can do it. You know I can handle it. And if I can't, well..." he smiled slightly, "I'll have you to protect me."

A blush spread across Crowley's cheeks, and he briefly wondered if his skin was turning the same shade as his hair. "Uh... oh, ngk..." He sighed deeply, frustrated, before whining: "Ugh... okay, fine."

Aziraphale grinned widely, even with sadness still evident in his eyes. "It's settled, then. We're going to get the sword away from them."

The bookshop was silent once again, this time filled with anticipation and determination for the decision that had been made. And if any angels or demons had cared to listen in... Well, I made sure I was the only one to remember the conversation.

#let me know tonight and evermore #Good omens #ineffable husbands #otp: ineffable #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #mutual pining #Sundry writes #6000 year slow burn #mystery narrator #flaming sword #apple #eden #original post

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que-pasa-calabasa · 6 years ago

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que-pasa-calabasa’s Good Omens fic rec masterpost

In no particular order, except for the fact that I’m putting all the PWP (or close approximations thereof) together at the bottom. Some will be not be show-canon compliant as they predate the release. Summaries are copy-pasted from the ao3 summary; italics are my own commentary added.

is it that we are dying? (5k, G): England, 1349, the middle of the 14th century. The black death rages, and Aziraphale has to help a dying demon escape from a church. Sad and sweet, completely indulgent hurt/comfort

Don’t Play With Holy Water (30k, M): When the Bentley goes missing, Crowley isn't sure what to make of it. Unbeknownst to him, a certain lurking demon is waiting to settle an old score... A wild ride full of peril and body-swapping, Aziraphale is a BAMF

Mirror, Mirror (44k, T): Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world... Parallel-universe Crowley is hilariously evil, regular-degular Crowley takes a turn as the bad-ass

with my mind on my money (and my money on my mind) (3k, T): Mr. Fell was as eccentric as Tim might expect a rare book dealer with a connoisseur's knowledge of cannabis strains to be, and he couldn't help being fond of him. Aziraphale and Crowley do weed, what more is there to say?

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea (1k, T): It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.But if you are the Antichrist, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is Called Dragon, Spawn of Satan, etc., etc., well…you were born with all the aces up your sleeve, and the only admonishment you need is “Have fun, kiddo, and don’t screw him over too hard.” Pure humor, entertaining drunk!Crowley

Game Over, Insert Coin (14k, M): An Account of Certain Events occurring in the Groundhog Day AU no one asked for, in strict accordance as shall be shewn with Narrative Interference of an (Un)predictable Nature for the Sleepless Reader. Exactly what it says on the tin, all your normal Groundhog Day AU angst

A Matter of Convenience (12k, T): “You know,” Crowley rasped as he struggled to scrape himself off the ground, “I can't shake the feeling that there must be an easier way to go about this.”A possible take on the birth of the Arrangement. There’s some sadness, some historical fun, and some Hurt Boys (tm)

Rarefied Air (3k, E): Earth is getting older, news is getting worse, and an angel has to go to extreme heights to get any peace and quiet at all. But as close as you can get to Heaven, you're still never far from Hell. (Hell hasn't frozen. Crowley nearly has.) There’s explicit sex in this but it’s so much more than PWP

Dark and Stormy Night (or Never Underestimate an Angel) (5k, T): “Hmph. I suppose you think that, just because I’m an angel, that I’m too tame to read a scary story properly?” Silly and cute, Crowley and Aziraphale are weird godfathers to the Them

The Curse of Horemheb (66k, M): “The locals call her Bibân el Molûk, but she’s better known as the Valley of the Kings.”Or: Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other in Luxor in 1908 and find themselves confronted with the consequences of actions three thousand years old. Sprawling multi-era adventure with some good fun tropes

off the record (8k, T): Crowley has to submit a biannual report, but there are some things that he often neglects to include. Cute, sweet almost-meta on the natures of Crowley and Aziraphale

A Sticker Situation (1k, G): Everyone's favorite angel and demon are innocently driving past a gas station when Crowley notices a giveaway that he absolutely must participate in. Crowley is a huge James Bond nerd

Under the Apple Tree (6k, T): Crowley finds himself in a tight spot, and Aziraphale dares to hope his help could turn into something more. Devastating, if you like tragic hurt/comfort this is the one for you

Essentially Social Chameleons (2k, G): In short, Aziraphale and Crowley are not as good at blending in with mortals as they think they are. There are better places to discover this than Newton and Anathema's baby's christening, but, well, we're here now. Very silly, one my my favorite genres (humans are confused by Crowley and Aziraphale)

the bucket list (13k, E): There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on.“Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?” *If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way. Crowley and Aziraphale decide to try some fun human things, there’s some obvious smut but it’s not what it’s really about

Milton Was Right (1k, T): Adam knows where most babies come from, but is pretty sure that doesn't apply to him. Aziraphale and Crowley show their usual levels of competence in explaining where antichrists come from. Just...extremely funny

it's the light (it's the obstacle that casts it) (5k, T): It's like having a curtain pulled back on something he wasn't expecting to see. A surprise punch-and-judy at an up-scale restaurant, a lobster thermidor when he's ordered an ale.Crowley's gleefully trying to wrap his head around the fact that Aziraphale is speaking Polari. Because of course he is. Or: The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho. One of my favorites

HERE BE SMUT

The One in Which Crowley Discovers Wanking (5k, E): It began, like most memorable events in Crowley’s life did, with a bad decision; like most bad decisions, it involved poor impulse control and copious amounts of alcohol. The Antichrist had been born, and he put on lipstick and kitten heels to deal with it, but knew that the clock was ticking, and at times when time was slipping away, it helped to hold onto a bottle of gin. Also what it says on the tin, Crowley jacks off while Aziraphale sort of helps

Come Fuck Me Hips (5k, E): Crowley has had a fantasy about Aziraphale for centuries now. Too bad the angel would never take him up on it. Except, as it turns out, he absolutely would. Crowley’s a bottom and Aziraphale is a service top, this is pretty much the only dynamic I accept

I Was Born to Love You (28k, E): Crowley shows up to take Aziraphale to lunch, and for the first time in quite a good while, he flashes just a bit of ankle. And that's how it all begins. Fun banter, hot sex

The Mysteries of Ladies’ Knickers (2k, E): Somewhere in the fall of 1963, Aziraphale was issued a new body. Later, he was never entirely sure if the mix-up following the assignment of its replacement was intentional or purely accidental. He had his suspicions. Crowley was not sure how to feel about it. It’s hot, Aziraphale is a woman temporarily, there’s sex, you know the drill

Love Hath Made Thee a Tame Snake (3k, E): He was the bloody Serpent of Eden, and he wasn’t going to stand for this kind of flagrant trespassing. Kind of borderline fluff/smut, the first half is mostly cute snake!Crowley

Killer Queen (2k, E): In hindsight, Crowley reflected, it was probably not one of his best or brightest ideas to introduce a six-thousand-year-old virgin to the subtle and intricate matters of sexual intercourse. Things could, frankly speaking, get a little out of hand. (Or, Aziraphale has a sexual awakening.) Oh God, hilarious and sexy, Aziraphale treats sex like food and wants to try aLL THE THINGS

Tryst on a Hot Church Roof (2k, E): Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time. Those nerds trying to sexily roleplay and failing is one of my fav tropes

#good omens #fic rec

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thehedgelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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[Chapter 0] Morningstar

What is a god? An idol that is worshipped. An omnipotent being that is both celestial and divine. They tend to be the creator of all life as we know it. We are their creation. Mortals, golems made come to life by fusing atoms, cells, organisms, living tissue merging with the ethereal "soul". A human being is what we became, and the plain we thrive on is the mortal realm, where nothing is permanent. Earth compared to Elysium, is a wasteland of sin and terrors with scattered oasis of peace and order.

The creation of humanity became self sufficient, they could reproduce, build and provide. However, with time, a dark stain would consume the innocence of man as they became more self aware. They became self serving, selfish and arrogant, questioning their own creator and turning their back on the enlightened ones. This made my god, Eos very sad, left with little choice but to let them walk freely unto a stormy world of unruliness and chaos. Mankind would soon learn what took my god aeons to understand, pain.

And so, mankind in defiance continued to thrive, to live the life they thought they wanted but soon would learn that on this side of the realm, everything had a price. Weakened by discord from one of his subjects, and casting out a beloved vessel of light, this was the last straw. Eos, needed time to heal old wounds, but a beast stirred in the bowels of hell, slithering around in the abyss, waiting for the day to strike the heavens. The outcast now made a strong whisper to the ancient beast all the encouragement it needed, it sprung from the depths of darkness with the outcast riding on his back and an army of darkness behind them toward the celestial gates. There, while the good of man was being tested below, celestials and infernals fought in the heavens. The outcast broke through defenses until reaching the holy sanctum. He found our god Eos sitting on his throne, listening and replying to his tiny creations. The communication suddenly stopped. Prophets will remember this day as the day God left us all alone. Faith would become even more vital now for mankind.

Meanwhile, upon a throne carved out of white stone, a river of blue flowed from an open wound. The outcast had stabbed our beloved Eos straight through the heart. "I know this won't kill you but it will buy me some time…" the defiler said as he plunged his blade deep into the gap. "I will find "your children" and break them. Bring them to my side, fill them with my darkness and at last my will shall be done. I will be the new god your creations will adore. You will wither and turn to dust. The wise bearded god looked up at his once proud child. "What has become of you Lucifer? You had it all but this greed, this hate, this pain...where did you get these things? You lived in heaven, a place where there is nothing but peace and happiness, my child, even as ancient as I am, I do not know how you became so tainted."

Lucifer simply smugly smirked at the weakened Eos. "I met someone else who showed me the way. The truth. I was but a tool to you."

Eos shook his head with eyes shut. "My child you were always loved. Please do not do this."

Lucifer hopped off the throne,leaving the blade in place. "Any moment now my brothers and sisters will break through my forces and disintegrate them where they stand. Their power is divine, because of you of course. So I will leave them a present, they will never be able to forget about their brother again. The massive serpent appeared from the shadows casted by Lucifer upon the throne. The snake coiled around Eos locking him in place.

The archangels Gabriel and Michael rushed through the hordes. The armies of hell banded together and created a tidal wave of terrors, abominations and monsters that crashed against the celestial's cavalry but to no avail. Seraphim stood at the forefront, casting powerful spells that disoriented the infernals. Allowing Michael's forces to strike at their flanks, while Gabriel followed with his own angels and cleaned up those that ran off the battlefield.

Through the sheer chaos of war, Gabriel stretched his wings out and jumped into the air, spearheading into a gathering of powerful demons. Legionmakers, is what they were called. Before the infernal captain of the guard could say the word, Gabriel had chopped his head clean off. He looks to Michael now standing in a putrid, foul stench pool of demon's blood and points at the sanctum. "UP AHEAD BROTHER, OUR FATHER NEEDS US." Michael signaled his archers to rain holy fire upon the monstrosities. To us mortals this battle went on for days but for immortals it was only half a day. When Michael stepped through the big doors he felt the cold blood of Eos flood the room. He ran in without hesitation until he reached the throne. What he saw broke dear archangel Michael, the warrior. Eos was still alive but he had no limbs, nor eyes. Lucifer was long gone. He retreated with what little army he had , riding on the back of his favorite beast.

Archangel Gabriel arrived to comfort Michael, he held him in his arms. Gently patting the back of his head. "We must bring the vessels to him Michael. We have to." Michael bitterly sobbed, screaming in despair. Gabriel looked on with the light in his eyes fading fast. Numbness was taking over him. Their creator was barely breathing, and no heirs to continue his legacy. Michael and Gabriel finally stood back on their feet, they called upon the Seraphim to heal what they could. They purified the wounds, closing them up.

"He is stable for now, but he needs much rest." The leader of the Seraphim said with much gravity. "In this state, our creator is vulnerable."

The two brothers quietly stood by watching the somber ritual of locking away their divine father in a box made out of marble, protected by a spell to ward off all evil.

Michael stepped forward toward the holy reliquary and placed his hand over the glass pane, where he could still see his creator, peacefully dormant. "I promise, their obsidian towers shall crumble...their false king will die by my blade.... Forgive me, father."

And thus begins this dark tale of the fall of a god, heralding a new dawn of chaos... But there is hope, in the form of seven souls, chosen by the creator himself that will bring forth, the age of Enlightened....

[To be continued]

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Forsaken | Part 12

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

“You’re not a very pretty thing, are you?” the man who was the leader of this army sneered, leaning in closer to the cell you and Youngjae were held within. He then let out a boom of laughter which startled you enough to bang into Youngjae’s shoulder. “That boy has never had much of a good taste in anything so what to expect really.”

“You’re no great looker yourself,” you couldn’t help but shoot back and the man stopped with his jovial response, his gaze narrowing on your face. “It’s a pity my eyes have to take you in so closely. Have you bathed this month or is that putrid smell your natural odour?”

Youngjae was pinching at the edge of your arm repeatedly to stop. However, you didn’t back down any. If this ogre of a man was going to treat Jackson the way he had and then insult the man who would give up everything for you, then you weren’t afraid to share your thoughts now either.

Perhaps you were too bold for a prisoner but you wouldn’t remain one for long anyway.

He was silent for a moment and then he chuckled. “I like you. Maybe you’ll make a good wife.”

“Don’t you already have enough whores to keep you busy?”

“Y/N!” Youngjae whined and then shook his head. “Please forgive her, My Lord. She comes from a very optimistic lifestyle and has no idea how these lands work.”

“Don’t suck up to me boy, I have no use for you.”

“I think you do,” you corrected firmly and the man looked back at you again, intrigued. “Youngjae here is a mighty fine cook.”

“He is, is he?”

“Oh yes, the finest I’ve ever come across.”

Youngjae was so surprised by your outlandish lie that all he could do was stare at you with his mouth agape. However, you pressed on, maintaining eye contact with your captor. “Surely you would allow us to cook you a meal tonight.”

“You’re not free to move around here. I’m using you as bait. As soon as I sniff out that lousy cat of yours, you’ll be gone from this earth.”

“All the more reason for a chef such as Youngjae and I to make our final meal together. After all, you did see how well-fed the men were back at the camp we come from, didn’t you? That’s all on Youngjae. I’ve been cooking with him since I arrived and honestly, you won’t regret it.”

You could tell the man was a fool. Whilst he had a clever wit about him when it came to being a warrior, he was overruled by the comforts he could lap up within these walls. Scratching at his beard, he let out another laugh. “I suppose I’ve always been envious of that boy’s teamwork. A hearty meal for me and my men will only prepare us further for taking out Jinyoung when he arrives.”

You swallowed back your instant complaint and smiled instead. “Of course. A hearty meal is what you all deserve.”

“What are you playing at?” Youngjae murmured in your ear when you were both transported to their open kitchen area. The two men who threw you into your confinements now shackled you with a rope around your ankles so you couldn’t escape. They then put potatoes in front of you.

“We will need the finest cut of meat you have here,” you instructed to the men, who glanced between each other before going into their storage shed. You looked at Youngjae desperately. “I’m getting us out of here. I still have some of the supplies on me.”

“How are you planning to get us out?”

“I lived with a healing woman. I know a thing or two,” you responded, smiling at the return of the men with a bucket of meat. “Wonderful. Shall we get to work, master?”

“Mas-- er yes. Yes, we shall.”

“A stew is your finest use of potatoes, isn’t it?” you continued and the men seemed content with your conversation and washing of the potatoes to lose some interest in you both. Still, you continued with your talk, just to be sure. “You make a very fragrant blend as your special flavour, don’t you?”

“It’s a unique dish for sure,” Youngjae attempted to sound just as effortless as you were. His hands were shaking and you reached out to calm them with a gentle squeeze and a nod of your head.

When Youngjae had collected the seeds for your travels, you had noticed a large sachet of Nightshade seeds along the wall of the shop. You had slipped them into the purchase without a moment’s thought, out of habit that you would fetch them for your Grandmother when she called for them. Now, they had proven their worth and you were grateful you had pocketed them shortly after leaving the village.

It wouldn’t be enough to truly take out your captors, given how many there were, but it would buy you some time. Thankfully, Youngjae found some herbs within the kitchen that could help with the disagreeable smell, and by the time you were ready to serve it up, the stew boasted a smell that had the men hanging around for it.

“Best thing I’ve smelt in years!”

“Boss made a good decision about letting them feed us!”

“How can a stew smell this tasty?!”

You felt unfortunate towards some of the girls who ate alongside them, knowing they weren’t guilty like the monsters slurping up their dinner were. Still, you needed the best chance of escape.

“Girl, is there more?” the leader, whom you had learned was called Argo, belched, and you smiled, pushing the large pot forward.

“I believe you will lick the bowl clean at this rate.”

“A good meal like this… that boy was living in luxury.”

“You could too if you let us live,” Youngjae offered and Argo chuckled as he threw the remnants of what was in the ladle down his throat. You watched on with bated breath.

“Nice try, boy. But once that lion or tiger or whatever he called himself comes prowling through here, you’ll be seeing the gates of the heavens above.”

“Worth a try,” you lamented dramatically, patting Youngjae’s arm.

It didn’t take long for the effects to settle in. Nightshade in small doses was effective in many ways. You knew of it intimately, as it had been the potion you drank given by your father that saved you. Still, the concentration compared to this one had been stronger and you couldn’t gauge if the men would sleep for hours or days.

It would give you both the head start you would need all the same.

Once the last one dropped into slumber around you both, you reached for the dagger down your leg and as quickly and quietly as you could, cut the rope free from yours and Youngjae’s legs. Nodding at one another, you then started towards the exit near the stables, stopping just before you stepped out.

“What is it?”

“Jinyoung will come here,” you murmured, slicing a shred of your pant cuff off. Hiding it in a crevice that you knew his keen eyes would discover, you then smiled at Youngjae, dashing away as fast as you both could.

“What are you doing?”

Looking at Jinyoung and then at the stack of white stones you held, you smiled. “I’m creating a trail.”

“Yes, but why?”

“In case we get lost. Papa needs to find us.”

“Can’t you just tell the way back from how we travelled it?” he wondered and you shrugged.

“This way I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

“What if a wind picks up and throws your stones away?”

“Then fate wanted us to be lost from this world,” you surmised, scrunching up your face as you gave the boy a playful shove. “Don’t be so frustrating. It’s better to do this than not at all. Say I went for a wander all by myself and got lost. Wouldn’t you want a path to find me with?”

“I’d use my skills from living within woods like these to track you down,” he stubbornly replied, though he reached for the next stone to place on the path for you. You giggled and Jinyoung smiled. “I hope you don’t get lost from my world, Y/N.”

“I know you’ll find me if I do. I’ll leave you a trail just so you know how to find me.”

The light that rose with the new dawn enabled you and Youngjae to move faster over the terrain. It hadn’t been easy to put distance between you and the camp with barely a moon to guide you by, yet you had made some progress.

It wasn’t enough though and once the men woke and found their horses, it would be all too easy to find you on the flat.

You remained climbing into a mountainside in hopes it would lead you away from being captured again.

“It’s cold,” Youngjae mentioned with concern as you hacked another chunk of fabric off your leg. “You should stop doing that now.”

“I can’t, Jinyoung needs to find us.”

“You’re above your knees now, there won’t be much more to give up. Here, take from mine.”

You smiled gratefully at Youngjae and nodded. “For the next marker, I will take your offer.”

“You hold a lot of hope that Jinyoung will find us.”

“If I give up hope, I won’t keep moving. And I have to make my best move.”

“Your best move?”

You nodded again. “I froze in front of danger the first time. If I allow others to control me and not fight myself then I’m not making my best move for us right now.”

“How long do you think until the brew wears off?”

“Maybe we have a couple more hours up our sleeve at most.”

“Then by noon, we may not have much luck.”

“They would have expected us to head towards our camp. They didn’t hold much regard for our smarts.”

“Given that brute believed your story of me being a fine cook.”

“You did enough to make that believable yourself given how long you had been feeding them before I.”

“Perhaps. I got worried when you started mouthing off.”

Your lips curled up fondly. “I was a little spirited.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill us then.”

“He couldn’t.” You stared ahead at the dense forest and then sighed. “He needed us to get to Jinyoung.”

“I hope Jackson is okay.”

“I believe Jackson is stronger than he looks.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t a deep wound. It sure stunned him.”

“I believe he will greet us again.”

“Yes, I do too.”

You both fell silent, your true worries unspoken. Neither of you had supplies to prolong your travels any. Once you ran out of energy that would be it unless you could harvest something along the way. All you saw was tree after tree and nothing edible in between.

You had managed to drink from a spring some hours earlier into your travel but as the sun grew hotter in the sky and filtered through the lessening density of the trees, you were becoming a little parched.

Still, you travelled on.

Mid-afternoon arrived and Youngjae’s breathing grew laboured. You stopped to rest, wiping the perspiration from your brows and neck, wondering if you could use it to wet your mouth any. It was too salty and you spat it out, groaning with your lack of resources.

You hadn’t thought far ahead.

“There’s a clearing,” Youngjae pointed and you turned to the direction he was looking in, perking up.

“And a homestead!”

“Water,” Youngjae breathed as you helped him up.

“Food too.”

“Shelter,” you both stated, trying your best to keep Youngjae upright as you both travelled over the ground with the remaining energy you had.

The clearing was flat and your legs relished in it as you jogged across the grassy field, eyes fixated on what you hoped would be your saviour.

And then you heard the thundering of hooves coming upon you.

_________________

Part 13

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ifihadneverpickedthepenup · 6 years ago

Text

Down this road again...

Did I really forget how to swim?

Is the ice we skate on really this thin?

I thought maybe I would not go through this with him.

I thought all the love given would be enough to be forgiven.

So why do I live in this fear, in this cage?

Where do I find an outlet for my sadness and rage?

I am afraid.

And I am sorry, but to me, you have it made.

I know you’ll never see it this way.

So I’ll try to silence these thoughts day by day.

Where is the graciousness, gratitude, or simple recognition?

That in this life you can create a beautiful vision,

Which can easily come to fruition,

If you simply make the decision,

Find yourself internally driven,

And come to terms with all that you have been given.

Whether it wisdom, financial stability, health care, or just a real support system.

And I know that things were broken for you too.

I understand that I will never understand what you have been through.

But if you can’t wake up and see,

Your life is something so many envy.

Maybe you can’t be the one for me-

And before you chime in with you “if that’s how you feel I will let you be”-

It’s not because I want to be free,

But rather that you won’t fight for me.

It is that you will never understand how broken this life has made me.

People: friends, family, and lovers constantly betray me

Always praying someone is going to save me.

I’m experiencing mental and physical despair.

I know you probably barely care.

I can see it now, our conversation, your distant stare.

But it really isn’t fair.

You left me to rot,

I don’t care if you see or not.

I spend hours now daily staring at the clock.

When you don’t call I wonder if you forgot, didn’t care, or were too distracted by some other girl in there.

But I mustn’t say that, I wouldn’t dare. Why would I risk being called a jealous, crazy bitch?

Because I drive myself crazy.

Because I love you.

Because I care.

Oh and to find true love can be so rare.

And I know we could have it, I swear.

But not until you see past the pain in my heart that I so nonchalantly wear.

Babe, I beg you would just understand all the pain that I’ve felt,

And my desperate need to escape.

Or recognition that this might be my fate.

Maybe it’ll never get better than the first date.

But all you see is my inability to wait.

I’m just acknowledging the truth, that it may be too late.

Maybe I’m not meant to have a mate.

Maybe heaven filled up early and they had to close the gate.

My own flesh and blood was the first man to ever give me a drug.

He made me believe ecstasy was the same thing as a fathers love or a warm hug.

But he hid the badness, he swept the darkness under the rug.

But all those dark and evil prices crept up when I found myself in love.

When I try to find understanding my mind draws blanks.

I’m not trying to turn this into a competition, some kind of sick race.

I just want you to see where in the world I was placed.

It’s like the joint your friends pass you without warning you it was laced.

As soon as I could taste it was far too late,

Pushed towards hell and told it will all be well.

It’s my fate, something I have to face.

Forget that bullshit,

That’s all fake.

Life just didn’t want me to be great.

Doomed to be an addict,

Doomed to be a whore,

And absolutely nothing more.

I have no God to open windows,

Only the devil closing doors.

Knowing good and damn well I can not compete with most girls.

We live in different worlds.

You go to your parents as an escape,

For me it’s always a mistake.

Your family tells you to drive straight,

Mine would probably let me drive into a lake.

My father would definitely let me get date raped.

I know you think I’m exaggerating,

But moments ago we were smoking heroin together, let that sink in.

You don’t really know him.

There are some really dark things about him.

Things I hope will die with my generation.

Narcissism is the only word he wants to live in.

But he always wants to drag me down with him,

Knowing he has constantly failed his children.

Although it may be impossible to fully protect them,

Seems pretty basic moral integrity to look out for ones own kin.

If you think it’s just “tough love” that I was given, I would really like to share a portion,

Seriously I would have preferred my mom have an abortion.

Even that description can not begin to scratch the surface of the shitstorm that I live in.

And just like that my happiness was stolen.

I understand you’ll never know what it’s like to be a weed in the trash, while simultaneously being told your a flower with limitless potiental to grow.

Yet every bit of growth seems to stagnant, so slow.

I wish my past was like a map you could unroll.

I could take you where I’ve been, you could show me where to go.

But for now your advice is insulting because you’ve neglected to take the time to really get to know me.

Who am I? Do you have any clue?

What it is like to be anyone but you.

And don’t think for a second I haven’t tried to put myself in your shoes too.

I constantly try to understand because I do love you.

But I don’t think my whole past is even a story you could sit through.

I know just hearing some of my pain utterly disgust you.

Shit it does me too.

I use dark and sick humor to mask my mistakes.

Sometimes I believe my own bullshit and become a heartless bitch.

I turn off that switch.

But that should not invalidate my feelings you dick!

Great, now I sound like a prick.

Why can’t you just understand this shit?

Oh how I wish.

Don’t get me wrong, I get it, things had to be fixed.

But I am sick and tired of you saying it had to happen like this.

You left so quick that I could not pull myself together to get a goodbye kiss.

Now I do not know if I will ever get it.

You lied over and over,

Making me feel like I constantly had to look over my shoulder.

You stole from me repeatedly, so why should I believe you didn’t just use me?

You say I’m jealous?

What do you expect when our relationship is sexless?

You have often called me by the name of another bitch.

Do you even comprehend that shit?

You told me another woman’s sex was better than mine, but it’s “okay” because you were “out of your mind...”

But sure, “you’re in love with me”.

I’m not blind.

What you’re doing is not kind.

You probably are not in love with me and that is fine,

But do not let me do this time after time.

Trying so desperately to have you really love me.

Or make you want to be mine.

I’ve never been someone to be proud to have.

But for me, I want you to be my baby’s dad.

I want you to be my husband,

And I want you to be glad.

But again I know it’s something I will never have.

So I am sorry that I am sad.

Why am I so disgusting and broken?

Why is my pussy so scary to cum in?

You say you want a future, but you’ll never want my children.

Can you even picture a house that we are both happy to live in?

No really, think about that again.

This isn’t meant to be a sweet little hym.

This is the life I’ve created or been given.

I don’t know how to live in the system.

I’ll probably end up in another toxic relationship or abused by men since you think I’ll deserve it because I “hit” them.

Shit I’ll probably end up dead in the streets.

Hell maybe it’ll happen before you get out in the next couple of weeks.

So while I know I sit here and endlessly weap.

I shall consent to defeat.

Your family gave you an ultimatum.

Which ultimately made you choose them.

To me it’s sick we were put in a situation to make that decision.

And I get it, it’s cool, if I had your family I would probably choose them too.

And when you say “just don’t worry” or “don’t mind them,”

I wish you’d take a step back and look again.

Realize you will always choose them again and again.

To you, I am not family.

I’m barely even “your baby”

You’ve already shown your sister all of my crazy.

They already hate me (if they even waste the energy on me).

I’m trying so hard to explain don’t you see?

I don’t know how I will handle you going to leave me.

But I see for you it was pretty easy.

There wasn’t even a question of you staying with me.

The threat from your family was enough for you to leave oh so quickly.

And yet you do not even see that your family deceived you and me.

I wanted to be your family but now I see, that was extremely silly.

You probably won’t even spend another night with me.

So when I rant and bitch and try to explain my life it is simply because I never had it that nice.

You will probably find me dead before you ever understand what is going through my head every night before I go to bed.

My circle of support is so small and fake, I am not going to get better at all at this rate.

But yet when you ask if you should stop calling, I don’t know how to say yes, it would probably rip out my chest.

But if I had to guess, it won’t be long until no love is left.

The things she said honestly destroyed me and every time I read it, it makes me want to die,

I may as well be out of my mind, out of sight.

Just so she can be right and I can be the “bad guy”.

But I am realizing as I write this that it will all be okay, maybe even better this way.

I bet you don’t even know what to say, just like every time, everyday.

But your giant heart always makes my world fall apart.

Even at your darkest I see your spark.

Even with this time apart.

And you are so fucking smart.

The intelligence of 100 men, the strength of a lion.

A beautiful mane, looks that drive me insane.

The gentle grace, which will have me follow you any place.

You can do anything you set your mind to and I really hope that you’ll find the courage to take the time to.

You gave me some of the best memories of my life.

You are so sweet, too damn nice.

Though I know I will dream of you every night,

I recognize I am toxic and will respectfully remove myself from your life.

And maybe in moments when I’m high, I can hang on to your beautiful light and momentarily forget about my life.

I am sorry I held you back,

I am sorry I took your friends,

I am sorry I took your happiness,

I am sorry I made you loose yourself.

I really hope you hang onto your health.

I love you forever and you will always make my heart melt.

~ifihadneverpickedthepenup

#poetry #dark #breakup #poem #orginal #anonymous #poems on tumblr #love poem #dark poems #sad poems #drug poems #sad #life #art #poetic #poets on tumblr #sharepoetry #self expression

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 4 years ago

Text

The Penitent Thief

by J.C. Ryle

“Then one of the criminals who were hanged blasphemed Him, saying, If You are the Christ, save Yourself and us. But the other, answering, rebuked him, saying, Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong. Then he said to Jesus, Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom. And Jesus said to him, Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise." - Luke 23:39-43

Reader, I wish to speak to you about these verses. Listen to me while I try to unfold the leading lessons which they are meant to teach. I cannot see the state of your heart before God, but I can see truths in this passage which no man can ever know too well.

First, you are meant to learn Christ’s power and willingness to save sinners. This is the main doctrine to be gathered from the history of the penitent thief. It teaches you that which ought to be music in the ears of all who hear it: Jesus Christ is mighty to save.

I ask you if any man’s case could look more hopeless and desperate than this man's? He was a wicked man, a malefactor, a thief, if not a murderer. He was suffering a just punishment for breaking the law. And as he had lived wickedly, so he seemed determined to die wickedly, for when he first was crucified, he railed on our Lord.

He was a dying man. He hung there nailed to a cross, from which he was never to come down alive. His hours were numbered, the grave was ready for him. There was but a step between him and death. If ever there was a soul hovering on the brink of hell, it was the soul of this thief. If ever there was a case that seemed lost, gone, and past recovery, it was his. If ever there was a child of Adam whom the devil made sure of as his own, it was this man.

But see now what happened. He ceased to rail and blaspheme, and began to speak in another manner altogether. He turned to our blessed Lord in prayer and asked Jesus to “remember him when He came into His kingdom.” He asked that his soul might be cared for, his sins pardoned, and himself thought of in another world. Truly this was a wonderful change.

Mark what kind of answer he received. Some would have said he was too wicked a man to be saved. But it was not so. Some would have fancied it was too late, the door was shut, and there was no room for mercy. But it proved not too late at all. The Lord Jesus returned an immediate answer, spoke kindly to him, and assured him that he should be with Him that day in Paradise. He pardoned him completely, cleansed him thoroughly from his sins, received him graciously, justified him freely, raised him from the gates of hell, and gave him a title to glory.

The second lesson you are meant to learn is this: if some are saved in the very hour of death, others are not. This is a truth that never ought to he passed over, and I dare not leave it unnoticed. It is a truth that stands out plainly in the sad end of the other malefactor, and is only too often forgotten. What became of the other thief who was crucified? Why did he not turn from his sin and call upon the Lord? Why did he remain hardened and impenitent? Why was he not saved? It is useless to try to answer such questions. Let us be content to take the fact as we find it, and see what it is meant to teach us.

We have no right whatever to say this thief was a worse man than his companion. There is nothing to prove it. Both plainly were wicked men. Both were receiving the due reward of their deeds. Both hung by the side of our Lord Jesus Christ. Both heard Him pray for His murderers. Both saw Him suffer patiently. But while one repented, the other remained hardened. While one began to pray, the other went on railing. While one was converted in his last hours, the other died as bad a man as he had lived. While one was taken to paradise, the other went to his own place, the place of the devil and his angels.

Now these things are written for our warning. They tell me that though some may repent and be converted on their death-bed, it does not follow that all will. A death-bed is not always a saving time. They tell me that two men may have the same opportunities of getting good for their souls, may be placed in the same position, see the same things, and hear the same things, and yet only one shall take advantage of them. Only one will repent, believe, and be saved. They tell me, above all, that repentance and faith are the gifts of God and are not in a man’s own power. If any one flatters himself that he can repent at his own time, choose his own season, seek the Lord when he pleases, and, like the penitent thief, be saved at the very last, he may find he is greatly deceived. Beware of presumption. Do not abuse God’s mercy and compassion. If you would be wise, put nothing off that concerns your soul.

The third lesson you are meant to learn is: the Spirit always leads saved souls in one way. This is a point that deserves particular attention and is often overlooked. Men look at the broad fact that the penitent thief was saved when he was dying, and they look no further. They do not consider the evidences this thief left behind him. They do not observe the abundant proof he gave of the work of the Spirit in his heart. And these proofs I wish to trace out. I wish to show you that the Spirit always works in one way, and that whether He converts a man in an hour, as He did the penitent thief, or by slow degrees, as he does others, the steps by which He leads souls to heaven are always the same.

First, see how strong was the faith of this man. He called Jesus, “Lord.” He declared his belief that He would have a kingdom. He believed that He was able to give him eternal life and glory, and in this belief prayed to Him. He maintained Christ's innocence of all the charges brought against Him. When even Christ's own disciples had forsaken Him and fled, when He was bleeding and dying on the cross, this was the hour when the thief believed in Christ and prayed to Him.

Second, see what a right sense of sin the thief had. He says to his companion, “We receive the due reward of our deeds.” He acknowledges his own ungodliness and the justice of his punishment. He makes no attempt to justify himself or excuse his wickedness. He is a man humbled and self-abased by the remembrance of past iniquities. This is what all God’s children feel. They are ready to allow they are poor hell-deserving sinners. They can say with their hearts as well as with their lips, “We have left undone the things that we ought to have done, and we have done those things that we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us.”

See what brotherly love the thief showed to his companion. He tried to stop his railing and blaspheming and bring him to a better mind. There is no surer mark of grace than this. Grace shakes a man out of his selfishness and makes him feel for the souls of others.

In one word, you see in the penitent thief a finished work of the Holy Ghost. Every part of the believer’s character may be traced in him. Short as his life was after conversion, he found time to leave abundant evidence that he was a child of God. His faith, his prayer, his humility, his brotherly love, are unmistakable witnesses of the reality of his repentance. He was not a penitent in name only, but in deed and in truth.

You are meant to learn from these verses that believers in Christ are with the Lord when they die. I cannot describe what kind of place paradise is, but I ask no brighter view of it than this--that Christ is there. Let me only see Christ in paradise when my eyes close in death, and that suffices me.

Reader, the day that believers die they are in paradise. Their battle is fought, their strife is over. They have passed through that gloomy valley we must one day tread. They have gone over that dark river we must one day cross. They have drunk that last bitter cup which sin has mingled for man. They have reached that place where sorrow and sighing are no more. Surely we should not wish them back again. We should not weep for them, but for ourselves.

This tract may fall into the hands of some humble-hearted and contrite sinner. Are you that man? Then here is encouragement for you. See what the penitent thief did and do likewise. See how he prayed, see how he called on the Lord Jesus Christ, see what an answer of peace he obtained. Why should not you also be saved?

#The Penitent Thief #J.C. Ryle #salvation #humility #unworthiness #encouragement #in Christ #death #paradise #calling #the Lord #Jesus Christ #Luke 23:39-43

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