#A trouble maker and a liar sure but not someone who would lie with the goal of harming another person

[chillinglikeashilling]

It's quite possible I'm forgetting something but I think all of the best (at least to me) Usopp moments have one thing in common:

There has to be another liar involved in some way. More than that there has to be someone who engages in lying out of a desire to harm others.

Klahadore, Arlong, Crocodile and Baroque Works, Don Flamingo etc etc.

[cryptidghostgirl]

HII this is the first time I ask one of this request and I would love if you could write this idea that’s been on my mind:3 and sorry if it is too specific but I was thinking of an Alastor x reader inspired on the chapter masquerade from dangerously yours??(only if you know it of course I don’t want to bother you😭)

basically the reader is an angel undercover to spy on the guys of the hotel and their plan for the extermination and the only one who knew this was alastor, but he didn’t say anything since he found her interesting and knew she wouldn’t be a threat if he had her under his watch!! but this changes when they started talking, getting closer to each other to the point he almost forgets why she’s here and what she really is,, but they’re so in love and doesn’t doubt of the feelings she has for him either to care😭

BUT when she(the reader) discovers he knew it all along she doesn’t have another choice but to kill him with an angelic weapon, and Alastor starts rambling about how she wouldn’t do it because she loves him and that kkwjzkxbdk

sorry if it’s too confusing english its not my first language so I tried my best😭😭 feel free to ignore it if you want to!!

A/N I am not sure what Dangerously yours is but I liked this idea and did something with it anyways. I hope that is okay :) Also I know I deviated from the prompt a bit, if you want I can do another.

Masquerade (Alastor x Angel!Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Adam. Angst. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,616

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"I want you down there."

Adam was picking at his teeth with the nail of his pinky finger, not even bothering to look at Y/n as he spoke.

"You what?" she shook her head, aghast at the idea, "Sir, do you really think that is such a good idea?"

"Yeah, that's why I am ordering you to do it?" Adam raised his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Y/n's as he leaned slightly across the table towards her, "I want everything: their plans, their intel, their... fuck, I don't know, their deepest darkest secrets. Just bring me whatever bullshit you're able to find."

"But sir, what if they find out? What if I get caught?"

"Then I'll send someone else to replace you."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. This was the life of an exorcist. Hardened, because they had to be. Afraid because there was no chance of beating their leader. Utterly disposable because there were thousands more of them to be had.

"But sir... I've really never been a good liar and... and..."

"And.. And..." Adam mocked, rolling his eyes, "Get over yourself, bitch! Pack your bags, you leave in ten."

That was how Y/n ended up where she was now, in disguise as a guest at the Hazbin Hotel. It had been scary at first. All she knew about demons was what she had been told, that they were vile, that they were filth. It came as a surprise when she also learned how kind they could be.

Alastor had known from the first moment he met her. It was the defensiveness that did it. That, and that she positively reeked of purity. When Y/n had come knocking on the door to the hotel, there hadn't been a single doubt in his mind about her true nature. Always on the hunt for a good show, he had decided to let it lie. He figured any trouble that would come of this was something he could deal with, that he would keep an eye on the little potential trouble maker. There was a certain pride that rose in his chest at the self proclaimed role of protector, he took the oath very seriously.

At first, Y/n had been reticent, suspicious. She seemed to be in a constant state of running in to Alastor and that set her on edge. He always played it off, was always kind and polite but with the years of learned behavior at her back, Y/n was slow to trust.

It happened that as she grew more comfortable at the hotel and its ragtag group of inhabitants, she also became more comfortable with Alastor. What had started off as little more than formality soon turned into her stopping to talk to him when their paths crossed, even bringing him treats she baked when he wasn't down in the kitchen to enjoy them with the rest of the crew.

It wasn't on purpose. Alastor didn't do a lot that wasn't on purpose. The more time he spent with the angel in disguise, the more he fell victim to her innocent charms. She was excitable, she looked at the world through new eyes. When he walked the well worn streets of Pentagram City by her side, it nearly felt like he was experiencing them for the first time again. There was something desirable in her sense of wonder.

Slowly distrust became friendship and friendship became something else. It was an unspoken bond of shared glances and secret smiles. No one ever talked about the way they would be looking everywhere around the hotel for one of the pair only to find them holed up together in some discrete corner listening to music and chattering away. The worst kept secret in all of Hell. Everyone saw how close they stood, how their hands brushed lightly when they walked side by side.

Y/n knew it was wrong, could feel it in her gut. The guilt ate away at her and still, she was unable to keep herself from indulging. He was magnetic, kinder than she ever could have expected and with an eye for the dramatic which she just adored. On that first night he kissed her, on the balcony beneath the false stars, she felt her divinity begin to slip.

It was a careful dance, a well strategized game of chance. They never said the words, they didn't need to. They both knew the truth, Alastor from Y/n's inability to be anything other than genuine in her joy and Y/n through the fact that Alastor seemed to avoid all forms of intimacy - emotional or otherwise - with anyone save her. She felt like she was drowning but she didn't care. She relished the embrace, the first true kindness she had felt since being forced into the ranks of Adam's army all those years before.

The weight of the lie was heavy on her shoulders, bearing down on her more and more with each passing day. With every soft smile, every hand hold, she felt the mask crack a bit more. Secrets had never been an issue for Alastor on the other hand. He expected to find joy in her slipping facade, some sense of satisfaction in the idea that while his remained strong her's was slipping. Instead, there was only worry. That was when he realized it wasn't a game anymore, it was reality and he was done for.

The line of the tightrope was thin, they both clung to it. Nothing good lasts forever and both knew, eventually, they were doomed to fall.

It happened by accident. Alastor had figured he had at least until the next extermination to make a plan, as did Y/n. Fate had other plans.

"My dear!" Alastor hummed jovially as he materialized in Y/n's room, "Your fellow guests are waiting in the lobby."

It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to just appear, Y/n was used to it by now. He was a man of routine and she knew his schedule, worked her own reports in carefully around it. She should have been suspicious of how well things were going, should have seen the doomed end creeping closer by the minute.

She froze, the portal open before her spinning gold sparks into the room as it framed Adam's face. His eyes flicked to Alastor and then to Y/n. Her eyes stayed stuck on the Radio Demon, grief winding its way through her lashes.

"Oops!" Adam laughed, "Wrong place wrong time, dick for brains."

Either way, it was a lose lose situation. Both Y/n and Alastor saw it. He killed her, she killed him, she didn't kill him and was ousted from heaven or killed by Adam, he didn't kill her and Charlie lost all trust in him. There was one faint future, glimmering with potential, where everything worked out. Y/n saw it in the idea of tricking Adam into having gotten Alastor on her side working against the hotel. Alastor saw it in Y/n falling and the perpetually kind hearted princess of Hell, Charlie, taking her in.

Y/n's sharp intake of breath sent shiver's down Alastor's spine. He watched her carefully, microphone in hand.

"Well?" Adam groaned in irritation, "Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna kill him?"

Her gaze shifted to Adam momentarily, her mask gone and her expression conflicted. She was looking to him for an option, for a way out. Adam gave no such reprieve and she returned to Alastor, her eyes widening in sudden realization of the essence of their situation.

The man in question had made no move to attack. It revealed everything, she took a trembling step towards him.

"You knew?"

The question was soft as rose petals, quiet enough so Adam couldn't quite make out what she had said. Alastor gave a subtle nod.

"God, Lute was right. You are a pathetic little brat, aren't you. Finish. The. Job."

Another furtive glance thrown between the two men and Y/n transformed. Wings sprouted from her back, her demon features fading into nothing as a black halo materialized above her head. Spear in hand, breaths shallow and constant, she turned her anxious eyes and spear to Alastor.

He was blinded, she was beautiful. Alastor had always found her attractive but something about seeing this true nature of hers, the face behind the mask, made him breathless. His mind reeled, he felt only he should return the favor but feared she would mistake it as aggression.

Please.

Her lips formed the word though no voice left her chest.

Run.

Alastor shook his head the slightest bit. Tears began to well in Y/n's vibrant eyes. Stuck between Heaven and Hell, divinity and desolation, love and war. She took a step forward. Y/n's wings splayed out behind her, a fitting backdrop to her inhuman beauty of the moment.

"Get it over with." Adam spat.

She begged him with everything but words. She wanted to do anything. To run, to hide, to lash out, to kill her instead. Alastor just stood there. He let his microphone disintegrate into the air.

He couldn't comprehend what he was doing, what force was driving him to look his much avoided double death head on without fear. Regardless of his confusion, he was undeterred. He spread his arms slightly to the sides, feeling his second form begging for control. He could feel the horns sprouting, the heat from the aiming light of the gun on his brow.

Y/n's expression only became more pained. Taking a deep, stuttering breath, she drew her weapon back.

"I'm so sorry."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170

[merminns]

Bad influence

Fred Weasley x Reader

❧ Content: fluff, just the Weasley Twins and Lee being trouble makers

❧ Word count: 1.8k

❧ Notes: this is a repost from my old blog

It has been a calm, peaceful morning. It was finally the weekend after a long tiring week. You had agreed to spend the morning with your friends in your dorm to make up for the lack of time you spent together during the week, then the rest of the day is reserved for your boyfriend, who has grown restless over the lack of attention you’ve been giving him.

The sun was giving off enough warmth as you walked through the hallways to where you and Fred agreed to meet. Your walk held an air of blissful silence that you rarely ever get. Being a student in Hogwarts and dating one of the infamous Weasley twins, ‘peace’ and ‘silence’ aren’t words that usually made it into your daily vocabulary.

You love Fred, so much that it sometimes feels unbelievable, but sometimes you just long for some peace after all the chaos that comes with dating him.

Unfortunately for you, today wasn’t a day where peace would find its place. Your peaceful walk was cut short when you noticed all the noise in the hallway ahead of you. You walked closer to the noise, only to come face to face with a chaotic scene.

The first thing you noticed how the hallway was unusually filled with students. It was very unlikely for this number of students to be packed in one place on the weekend. But that wasn’t even the problem. Almost every student was on the ground struggling to stand, and those standing seemed to be struggling with keeping their balance.

The chaos should have been enough for you to stop in your tracks, but the confusion you felt kept you moving forward. Before you knew it, your feet were slipping fast. The world started spinning as you lost all balance and you closed your eyes in preparation for your awkward fall.

But the cold hard surface of the ground didn’t come. Instead, you felt an arm wrap quickly around your waist as you were pulled into a broad chest. Your eyes opened cautiously to meet the familiar red sweater with a golden ‘F’ in the center.

“Fancy meeting you here,” your gaze shifted upwards to come in level with your boyfriend’s grinning face “Seems like you quite literally fell for me.”

Despite the panicked state you were in a few seconds ago, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Fred’s silly comment as he helped steady you on the slippery floor. It’s not even a surprise he is here, wherever chaos is Fred was sure to be found.

“Let me guess, you’re responsible for this.” you stated. Chaos and Fred in one place, it’s only reasonable to assume he caused the chaos rather than just be there. Fred confirmed it when his goofy grin turned into a smirk. A smirk matching those on George’s and Lee’s faces as they waved to you from where they stood behind Fred.

“We figured a spell to wax the floor without making it obvious,” he replied proudly “here, have some fluffy socks, they should do the trick.”

Of course, it is never possible to spend a single boring moment when these three are around. “Wax the floor don’t you think that’s k—”

“MR WEASLEY!”

The booming voice unmistakably belonged to professor McGonagall. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It won’t be hard for her to figure what was going on, and despite usually living up to their pranks, the trio was in serious trouble this time. It’s not even about this silly prank, it’s more about the amount of trouble they get themselves into.

These three had been getting into plenty of trouble lately. Some Slytherins think it’s funny to tail after them and inform the closest professor about their newest prank. The number of house points they lost was horrifying. It even reached the point where they were threatened that if they were found causing more trouble, they’d be forbidden from joining any quidditch activities till the end of the year. So they agreed that if they ever got caught again, the first action of defense is to escape.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see George and Lee taking baby steps away from the scene to avoid getting into trouble, leaving you and Fred into the direct line of fire.

Fred, whose arm was still wrapped around your waist, tried to retreat as well, dragging you with him before McGonagall’s figure is close enough to prevent your escape. And it would have worked, had it not been for your clumsiness.

You managed, with the help of the waxed floor, to trip over your own feet. This time no one was there to break your fall. You fell face first dragging Fred and a couple of the standing students along with you, leaving you trapped under a mass of bodies.

By the time you recovered from the fall, professor McGonagall’s stern face was towering over you, wand in her hand, and the ground beneath you had lost its waxiness.

“Care to explain, Mr. Weasley?”  

It’s common for you to not be one of those held responsible for such chaos. You were always known to be the goody-two-shoes. The model student, one who’d never cause any trouble.

It was even a common wonder to Hogwarts how you ended up with a trickster like Fred. No one had any idea that sometimes, you would be the mastermind to one of the trio’s pranks. Only a select few knew that you could cause a lot more trouble than Fred could.

But now, Fred was the only one around to blame for the complete chaos and the coupe of minor injuries caused by the silly prank. You know there’s no way for him out of this one. He’d be prevented from playing quidditch.

The thought filled you with an uneasy feeling. You know how much he loves the sport, separating him from his broom was like taking away part of him. And a glance at your boyfriend’s face was enough indication that he is thinking the same.

“It’s my fault!” you said before Fred could open his mouth to speak. Now, you aren’t any good at lying, and McGonagall wouldn’t just believe that a ‘perfect’ student such as yourself could cause so much trouble.

You slowly reach for your wand and hold it up. "I was trying to practice a new spell but it went wrong.”

You definitely are not a good liar but you had no choice here. Lying is your only way out of, or rather, into trouble.

“See, professor?” you said with a shy smile “Fred was just trying to help me… I’m sorry for causing trouble.”  

If your lie wasn’t obvious, then the incredulous look on Fred’s face was enough evidence that you’re lying. It was very clear to McGonagall you are trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble.

A brave move. And if McGonagall admired anything in the world it is small brave actions like this.

You could see a tiny smile on her face. She can call you out for your lie and punish Fred. But she couldn’t bring herself to let your effort go to waste.  The only downside? Someone has to be punished, especially because of the audience of students watching the scene, and you choose to be that someone.

Detention is boring, a complete waste of time and energy. But you’re thankful McGonagall was going easy on you. Having detention where you just sit around practicing transfiguration spells over and over again is so much better than any other outcome that could have taken place.

Though if Fred thinks he’s off the hook after this, he’s dead wrong. How dare he get himself into enough trouble that you’d have to go through detention to save his ass. You’re going to have to watch over him, he can’t get into any more trouble! And you just want to spend more time with him.

Your train of thoughts was rudely interrupted when a loud knock sounded at the closed door of the almost empty class. As McGonagall got distracted by whoever’s at the door, you caught movement through the corner of your eyes.

You shifted your attention to where the movement came from to see Fred waving at you from behind a statue placed at the far corner of the room, a wide grin covering his face as he motioned for you to come over. You mentally facepalmed, this is only getting you into deeper trouble.

You slowly inched closer to where your boyfriend was hidden out of McGonagall’s sight. He waited until you were close enough to pull you into him behind the statute.

“What are you doing? We’ll get in trouble?” you whispered as he crouched to the ground to pull on an almost invisible trap door. “What the hell?! When did this get here?”

“Shut up, you’ll get us caught!” he whispered back as he helped you down through the trap door and jumping in after you.

You walked through a dark tunnel the only light coming from Fred’s wand. You mattered a quick ‘Lumos’ to allow yourself more light. The walk wasn’t comfortable; the space was cramped and dark and completely unfriendly. Only kept moving thanks to Fred’s encouragement until you noticed another source of light ahead of you. As you walked closer you could see another trapdoor wide open above your heads.

As you walked closer, you noticed a hand reaching down to help you out of the claustrophobic space and into a dusty classroom that seems like it has been deserted for quite a while. The room was empty, aside from you and George who was now helping his brother up.

You waited until George closed the trapdoor and pulled a small worn out rug over it before you turned to your boyfriend.

“Before you ask, yes, we used the map” Fred beat you to it as he started explaining their little plan to help you escape.

Lee acted as a distraction as Fred helped you escape, George was to help you out of the trapdoor and then leave to notify Lee that the plan worked.

Your goofy little boyfriend managed to come up with a plan to ‘get you out’ of detention along with these two troublemakers. It won’t be long before McGonagall notices your absence, but your detention was just for show anyway, you doubted she’d punish you for this.  

But this was still escaping detention and it’s something that you never thought you’d ever do. You never even got in detention before you started dating Fred. You were never a saint, you liked to do be a little mischievous sometimes, but you always managed to keep your front as the model student.

But now, your beloved boyfriend was slowly turning you into a troublemaker as well, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy every exciting moment you spent with him.  

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH30

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, violence, gore

WC: 3974

A/N: Hi, I wanna thank you all for staying with me and this story. I have received a rather not very nice comment about this. As in their opinion, I stretched it out pointlessly and there’s too much sex, and that I should please go back and edit out the unnecessary parts. I just don’t know what happens to don’t like, don’t read. But yeah, can’t lie that it was kind of a discourage. Nonetheless, I’m sticking to my story, because it helped me keep myself sane in quarantine. So here you go. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N’s awake before him, Cuddles is already gone but Bubbles’ still lying next to her. She takes the little cat and walks out, closing the door behind her. She feeds Cuddles, sits down with Bubbles to see if the little baby would eat and the cat does, which is a relief, really. While she waits to see if Bubbles will throw up again, she turns on the coffee maker. The noise makes the three of them jump. 

When she sees that Bubbles can hold her food in, she makes coffee, takes the mugs into the bedroom and climbs to bed with Dean, she places the mug on her bedside table and begins to nudge at his face, rubs her nose along his scruff. It’s scratchy but soft, just the way she likes it. She then kisses his jaw, the corner of his lips, his cheek, his nose. 

“It’s too early,” Dean mumbles, his eyes are still closed.

“It’s not.”

“Ah, it’s not because you say it’s not.” He turns and buries his face into his pillow. 

“Exactly,” She kisses along the skin that is visible, his ear, the nape of his neck. “And I made you coffee.”

Dean tilts his head up, opens up his one eye, it’s a little red rimmed from sleep. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“Or what do you want?”

“I’m offended. Just because I made you coffee doesn’t mean that I did something stupid or want something?”

“Yeah, it does.” Dean chuckles before reaching his hand out to grab her and pull her to him. “What is it?”

It’s her turn to bury her face into the pillow and she mumbles. “I have to go meet my cousin today.” 

“You have a cousin?” 

Well, how can she say that she didn’t know about it until last night either? 

“Yeah, my aunt makes me go meet him. He came over from England and is in town for a short while.” She lies, hopes Dean buys it. 

“When are you meeting him?” He kisses the nape of her neck, his scruff scratches at her skin. She welcomes the burn. 

“This afternoon in a café. Just thought you should know so as not to be mad at me again.”

Dean chuckles and manhandles her around so she’s lying on top of him. “Baby, I’m never mad at you.”

“Annoyed.”

“Yeah, I’ve been annoyed.” And then he pauses before he adds, “This afternoon, huh? I don’t have anything scheduled. Why don’t I come with you?”

She honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. How can she say that she doesn’t want him around? That Ketch could expose her? She can’t even text Ketch to blow it off because she foolishly deleted his number and blocked him too.

“Yeah, sure.” She says instead, doesn’t know why but the thought of having Dean around will probably make her feel better? It’ll at least keep her from spilling Ketch everything she knows and make it worse. 

  *

  Dean and her are sitting at the table, decided to go there before for lunch and now they’re having coffee and waiting for Ketch. 

She’s glad Dean agreed to go eat there beforehand but she has never seen Ketch and it would really be embarrassing if she wouldn’t even recognize her own ‘cousin’. 

Linda did give her info about him though, it was after they talked last time that she sent Y/N a brief profile. 

“There you are!” 

She looks up at the man who’s smiling brightly at her. He wears a suit, complete with tie and all, dark grey, white shirt, black tie. There’s an expensive watch on his wrist and a ring on his pinky which, she thinks, is weird but to each their own.

“Hi,” She says, stands up and there’s a short confusion of how she should greet him but he takes the lead, kisses her cheeks and pulls her in for a hug.

One that doesn’t seem to end and she hates that. Dean’s clearing his throat audibly and Ketch releases her with a grin that signals trouble.

This is going great.

“Ketch, this is Dean—”

“—Winchester, I know,” Ketch extends a hand and adds, “I saw your face in the newspaper a couple of days ago.”

Ah. What a liar.

Dean takes Ketch’s hand and there’s a small smile on Dean’s face but she knows that expression too well. It says something like he doesn’t know where to categorize Ketch yet. Dean wants to play nice but he can sense that’s something off about that guy. She can’t blame Dean, she’s weirded out herself.

They sit down and Ketch orders a coffee before he starts to talk, and my god, that man can talk.

Occasionally Dean would look at her, his eyes pleading for her to end this madness.

“What are you doing for a living?” Dean asks Ketch and she doesn’t know if it’s out of genuine curiosity or if it’s a way for Dean to show that he’s polite. 

“I used to work for the MI6.” Ketch says matter of factly, like it’s no fucking big deal. “But now I’m a solicitor. Or as you Americans say, lawyer.”

Dean nods. If the mention of the MI6 did throw him off, he doesn’t show it. “And what are you doing in America?”

“Oh, you know, visiting my relatives,” Ketch nods at Y/N, “And I’m looking for a job. Looking to stay, actually.”

“Your mom will be heartbroken.” She mumbles. How fucking dare he uses the meeting to try to get in while Y/N told Linda that she’s got this.

“Yeah, but I’m not the first one who breaks her heart, am I?” Ketch looks at her, raising an eyebrow. It’s a dig at Linda’s and their relationship that has become straining, she knows.

“Anyway,” Ketch goes on, “I was wondering since you’re here, Dean, maybe you know of any openings in your organization?”

So this is what it was about, isn’t it? He really does try to get in? Will probably try to destroy her life and Dean’s before she can finish her mission? Not on her fucking watch. She’s fuming on the inside.

Dean sets his coffee down, one of his hands goes under the table, rubs at her thigh, as if he knows her distress. “I wouldn’t know about it. Ms MacLeod is my Head of HR. She’d know. Maybe you could contact her.”

Ketch looks at Dean, perplexed. As if he doesn’t get rejected often.

“I thought maybe, you know, we’re family.” Ketch adds.

“Oh, stop that bullshit Ketch, we are not! I barely know you and then you come here and want to meet me just because you want a job?” She’s outraged, feels stupid because she made Dean come here and there’s someone sitting across from her that could blow off her cover within a blink of an eye!

“Babe, it’s okay.” Dean squeezes her thigh. 

“It’s not, Dean! It’s not okay. I didn’t know he wanted to ask for a job. I’m— Let’s go.” She stands up, leaving Dean to catch up to her. “And Ketch, if you want a job, get one yourself.”

Dean fishes out a bill from his pants and leaves it on the table. Y/N’s already walking out. 

*

“I hate my family.” She breathes out as she leans her head against the car door, feels hot and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you for my family's gain.” 

“Baby, really, it’s okay.” Dean tries to calm her down, his hand finds her thigh, stroking it up and down. 

“I feel so foolish.” 

“You are not. You’re being nice and sometimes, people tend to take advantage of that. I’m used to it, actually.”

“I don’t want my family taking advantage of you.”

Dean chuckles, “I think I can handle it fine myself, you really don’t have to worry about that.”

Her bra stabs at her sides, that damn thing, seriously. Everything feels too restrictive right now. 

Y/N unhooks her bra on the back, slips out of the straps and pulls it out through the arm of her shirt. She feels so much better now.

Dean’s forehead creases when he sees it. “What did you do?”

She shrugs. 

“How is that even possible?” 

She laughs, “You’ve never seen someone do it before? You’re shitting me.”

“Well, sweetheart, usually I take them off or the woman does it, you know, more gracefully.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not graceful, I get it. Bras are overrated anyway.” She bunches it up and throws it to the floor.

Dean has to laugh, “Yeah, they are. Your tits shouldn’t be covered by anything. Except maybe my hands.”

He says it in that straight face of his that makes her face flare up.

  Y/N’s taking a bath to relax from Ketch and Dean has brought her a glass of wine, almost changed his mind on going out for that meeting when he saw her there, with foam on her head and a smile decorating her pink cheeks. Felt a strong urge to jump right in too, but he’s really got to go, Cas would give him hell if he would show up too late and that would definitely happen if he would stay next to the tub for too long.

So he steals a kiss before he tells her that he’ll see her later. And it’s hard. Hard to walk out from a wet and naked girl in his tub. He does it nonetheless, someone has got to be the reasonable one around here and today’s his turn.

He walks out, and takes his keys when he hears the doorbell.

They never have someone ringing the doorbell. At least not when they didn’t order anything and he knows he didn’t but maybe she ordered something before taking a bath and forgot to tell him.

Dean opens to Ketch.

“Hi, uh, I just wanna come and apologize for making a fool out of myself. Is Y/N here?” The man looks behind Dean, then and really, Dean doesn’t know what it is but something about Ketch irks him very much. 

Against his better judgment, Dean opens the door wider, letting Ketch step in. He is family after all, right? He lets Ketch follow him inside. “Yeah, she’s still taking a ba—”

The blow to the back of his head knocks Dean out of balance and to the side, his body hitting the wall close to the entrance. He did not see that coming.

Dean turns around, his vision is blurry from the blow. Before he can even react, Ketch’s right fist connects with Dean's face. Once, twice, three times, sending him on his side, his body hits the floor with a dull heavy thud. 

Yep, definitely didn’t see it coming. 

He tries to get up, but there’s a blow in his stomach, feet kicking at his ribs, it punches the air out of his lungs. 

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls, and tuns on his stomach, kneels up a little. He sees splatters of blood on the floor. There’s another kick, right into his middle, making him feel nauseous.

  Y/N hears the bell, and thinks it’s weird because she didn’t order anything and she doubts that Dean did, knowing that he’ll be out until late at night.

With a weird feeling in her guts, she gets out of the bath, wraps a towel around her, and secures it with a knot.

She tiptoes out of the bathroom and when she reaches the bedroom, she hears a thud of something heavy hitting a wall. 

There’s noises like someone’s grunting before there’s another thud and this time, she can feel the vibration of the flooring beneath her bare feet.

Instinctively, she runs to the closet, retrieves a gun from the cabinet, has to punch in the code twice because her hands are shaking. 

Y/N breathes relief when it opens and she quickly grabs the gun Dean has bought for her. Probably not really bought it, but what does it matter now.

Clicking off the safety, she draws it, walks slowly to the bedroom door that’s standing ajar. Dean never closes it when he knows that she’ll be alone. Knowing that she likes it when the cats can come in and bother her.

There she sees it, Dean’s on the floor on his knees, his one arm braced on the floor while he holds his stomach with his other hand. His face is bloody and in pain, there’s a cut above his left eyebrow. Dark red blood splatters the floor.

Standing above Dean, is Ketch. He has a crooked grin on his face. 

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls and Ketch only laughs, kicks Dean some more.

She tries to keep calm, tries to breath. That fucking son of a bitch, for real!

Taking one last deep breath, she steps out but holds her gun steady, points it towards Ketch.

“You tracked our car.” She says calmly. She’s not dumb, can put two and two together. But also because she doesn’t have any other explanation on how Ketch could know where she lives. Not even Linda knows it because they don’t track phones of undercover agents. 

“Aw, Y/N no guns please, I didn’t use mine.” Ketch lifts his jacket, showing her that his gun is still in his holster. “Well, that’s a lie, I did for the first blow but I didn’t shoot. I need him alive, you understand, don’t you?” Ketch sounds so fucking arrogant and it makes her blood boil.

Dean’s wincing on the floor between them. And it hurts her, it physically hurts her to see him hurt. 

“Shut up!” She hisses, has tears in her eyes. There’s so much going on in her mind, she doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. All she knows is that she wants Ketch to stop hurting Dean.

“Lower your gun, darling.” Ketch is still looking at her with a shiteating grin on his face. “You wouldn’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you, am I right?. How would you explain to my mo—”

The bullet goes right through the crease between his eyebrows. 

She doesn’t know why she pulled the trigger. Doesn’t know why she killed Ketch. Fact is that she didn’t want to hear him say more, fact is, that he invaded her life. Fact is, that he hurt Dean and by doing it, he — by proxy — hurt her too. And there’s no way out of it. Ketch already knows too much. If she doesn’t do it, Dean will and she has to answer too many questions that Dean will be throwing at her. Questions she doesn’t even have answers to herself. She doesn’t want to face them yet. Not when she still has time left that she could actually enjoy with him.

She killed a man. 

The realization hit her like a freight train.

Not only a man. A special agent. A Fed. 

One of her own. 

Linda will never forgive her.

The Bureau will never forgive her.

She’s no better than Dean. She’s now in this as much as he is. This life has consumed her, and there’s no way of getting out. She isn’t even sure now if she even wants to get out at all.

Letting herself sink down to the floor, she leans the side of her face against the door frame and starts to cry. Her hand slowly releases her gun.

Her vision is blurry and she closes her eyes for a brief moment, thinking about all the consequences of her action. When she opens her eyes again, Dean’s right in front of her. He’s in pain, she can see that but nonetheless he crawled over the floor to be close to her.

His hands cradle her face as he places a kiss on her forehead, thumbs brushing at the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“You okay?” He asks her, and there’s a split in his lips and blood at the corner of his mouth. 

He’s hurt more than she is but he still asks her if she’s okay. 

She does not deserve that.

Unable to answer, she sits still and that prompts Dean to get closer, he sits up, grunting loudly as he does. And then he holds her face firm in his hands, lays his forehead on hers. Their noses touch. 

“Baby, I need to know if you’re okay.”

She nods but cries some more. 

He kisses her lips and she kisses him back, pours every sorry she can not say into the kiss.

Dean then pulls her towards his chest, lets her cry into it. “I guess I have to call for a clean up, huh?” 

Y/N nods again and then out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the two cats slowly coming out from under the sofa. They walk towards Dean and her. She smiles and Dean lets go off her, grunting when he adjusts himself. He takes Bubbles, places the cat on her lap while he holds Cuddles. 

It dawns on her then, after she strokes the cats for a while that she didn’t ask if he’s okay.

He’s been asking her twice and she wasn’t even the one who took the beating!

“Are you okay?” She finally asks and Dean breathes out, pulls the corner of his lips up to a little smile.

“Never been better.” 

“Liar.” She mutters, then adds, “I need to check if anything’s broken.” Sitting up straight, she lowers Bubbles back on the floor but the cat stays close, watches her as she cradles Dean’s face.

“Baby,” Dean’s holding his breath when she skims one of her hands over his ribs, flinches as she touches him, “I can’t believe I’m saying this myself, but I’d rather you don’t touch me right now.”

She purses her lips. “But a kiss is okay?”

“That’s always okay.” He smiles a weak smile.

 *

 Y/N helps Dean after, throws his hand over her shoulder and walks him over to the couch before she calls for Sergei. 

“I’m gonna call Cas,” He grunts some more as he settles into the couch.

She walks over to the door and leaves it open for when Sergei comes up. 

Turning around, she avoids looking at the dead body of Ketch on the floor. 

“Do you want anyone to know about your cousin?”

She frowns at first before it dawns on her that he’s talking about Ketch. Hopes that he didn’t see her hesitation, “No.” She then says, “No, I don’t.”

Because it’s the truth. If possible, she’d like to avoid anyone ever finding out.

“Okay.” Dean nods.

There’s a knock at the door and she leads Sergei into the apartment. The man doesn’t even bat an eye when he sees a dead body on the floor. She guesses that he’s not paid to ask questions.

She leaves Sergei and Dean in the living room, disappears into the bedroom and thinks about calling Linda.

Y/N doesn’t call though. Maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s better when she acts like she doesn’t know anything at all. 

 *

 Sergei helps Dean into bed and Y/N props up the pillows before undressing him. He grunts out in pain as she makes him sit up a little to get his shirt off his shoulders. He’s already half asleep by the time she pulls off his socks. 

She’s been given two different kinds of painkillers by Sergei and he tells her exactly when Dean should take which pills over the next three days. Thankfully nothing’s broken. 

Cas arrives with a couple of men later and they immediately start with the clean up. Nobody said a word. It’s like everyone knows what they're doing and she has the feeling that it’s not the first time that they’re doing this.

Y/N takes the cats and closes the room to their bedroom. The workers are being loud but Dean’s even snoring a little by now, unfazed of what’s going on around him.

The cats immediately jump onto the bed, lay themselves around Dean and she couldn’t not take a picture of them together like this even if Dean’s face is bruised. 

There’s a band aid that holds his skin together above his eyebrow instead of stitches, the bruise on his cheek already starts to turn green. His lips are swollen and it hurts her to see him like this. It physically hurts her heart.

She wonders how long it’ll take Linda to piece two and two together on Ketch’s whereabouts. How long it’ll be for Linda to knock down the door and arrest her and Dean. Wonders if Linda even knows that Ketch was trying to forgo her commands and contact Y/N directly just because he wants to play a fucking hero. Because honestly, she can’t imagine that the thing Ketch pulled off was in Linda’s interest. Not when Y/N’s so close to the finish line.

 *

 After about two hours, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. She opens up to Cas and wave of something that smells like bleach hit her. It seems like they were trying to make it better by spraying some flower scents around the living room, which actually might have made it even worse. She’s going to have to open the windows for hours to get the smell out.

“We’re done.” Cas says, and steals a glimpse of Dean in bed. “How is he?”

“Sleeping.” She answers. 

“That’s good. He should sleep. The meeting today went well. Just tell him that? Okay?”

She smiles, “I will.” 

“If there’s anything, you know…” 

“I know. Thank you, Cas.”

“Anytime.”

She leaves the door open, but goes back to bed, picks her pencil and her notebook back up. She has to turn on the bedside lamp because it’s getting dark outside, the room lights up in a warm soft glow.

It’s an hour later when Dean opens his eyes. He squints at her. 

“Is this heaven? Am I in heaven?” He mumbles, his lips purse into a smile. 

Y/N replicates his smile, “No, sorry, you’re still stuck with me.”

He starts to laugh but then he flinches in pain. “Baby, no jokes, okay? My body can’t take it.”

“Shit, yeah,” She’s crawling over to his side on all fours. “‘M sorry.”

“Come on,” He says, pats the side of his bed and she goes in, lays her head on his arm. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles. That’s so typical Dean. He’s the one who’s hurt but he asks her how she’s feeling. She does not deserve him. “Tired. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been beaten.” 

She tilts her head, kisses him on his good cheek. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know that he would come and hurt you.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

She wants to tell him that it is. 

Dean didn’t say more though, didn’t ask her why Ketch holds a grudge against Dean. Why she shot him. Because that’s also Dean. He doesn’t ask questions to answer that he doesn’t need to know. Answer that won’t change his decision. Answers that aren’t relevant on how he lives his life.

She can also guess that he might know. Ketch mentioned the MI6. Dean’s no fucking idiot.

“Can I ask you something?” He says after a while and her heart picks up pace.

That’s it, she thinks. Finally he’s going to ask her and she’s going to tell him the truth and everything will be over. 

“Anything.” She says, because it’s true. At this point it’s all or nothing. She doesn’t want to lie to him any more.

“Why are the cats in our bed?”

CH31

[mandadoration]

twenty-six minutes

summary: Is it depraved of you to seek comfort in a reprogrammed Imperial droid?

word count: 1, 956

pairing: k-2so x reader

warnings: smut, fingering, i can’t believe im a robot fucker, im so sorry

a/n: I lost… so much steam halfway through, but I persisted. This one’s for all you robot fuckers out there.

I’m so, so sorry. 

Anyways... back to your regularly scheduled program. 

Read this on AO3

“You’re awfully squirmy.”

K-2SO says it so casually, as if you weren’t rutting yourself against the cold, but quickly warming, metal of his thigh, as if his hands weren’t pulling and pinching at your flesh, pulling you back against his chassis every time you tried to curl into yourself. It’s hard to get leverage; he’s so much taller than you are, and your toes barely brush the floor from where you sit in his lap, worsened by the fact K2 was sitting on the high meeting table, but your face is flushing and pleasure is curling in your belly. The positioning is definitely uncomfortable, but that’s pushed away when he tugs at your nipple in an almost curious manner, pulling a mewl from you. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. “That tends to happen when you’re, ah, in a compromising position.” 

K-2’s limbs are long enough that he’s able to reach over to pull your Rebellion-issued pants off of you, along with your panties, with no trouble, tossing it across the room dismissively. Thankfully, you had the foresight to take off your shirt before, and you make sure it’s still within arms reach if someone were to walk in. K-2 lifts you up enough to hook your legs over his, pulling you flush against him, and spreads his legs so that your legs are forced to follow, and you whine when the cold air hits your pussy. You go to try and cover yourself with your hands, but he swats them away with a sharp slap. 

“‘Compromising’?” K-2 repeats back to you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t think it’s compromising that--” Your sentence breaks off when he threads his spindly fingers through your hair and pulls back until your neck is exposed, giving him more room to run his other hand down your body. You stay frozen in that position when he releases your hair, wincing only a little when a few strands get caught between the joints, letting K-2 use both hands to feel you up, and the shock of the cold metal of his hands makes your brain stutter. “That-- that--”

“That what?” K-2 asks. “That we’re currently in an empty meeting room doing things that will surely put both of us on probation, if not ruin our reputations?” He seems content on poking and prodding at you while he talks, and it seems like every time you have these encounters with K-2SO, he makes it his job to pry new noises from you. And honestly? You don’t even know if K-2 likes you. You think it’s more of a… fascination. Of you yourself or just the mere fact you were an organic, you’re not sure. He doesn’t get anything out of this, besides the fact that you’re nearly powerless against him. He’s enough of a shithead bucket of bolts that you don’t doubt that he gets whatever weird form of droid pleasure from torturing you like this. Still, you’re too shy to bring it up, too insecure that if as soon as you voiced your worries, he would dismiss it and say that you were being stupidly human. 

“I-I guess so, yeah,” you mutter under your breath. You barely manage to smother a yelp when K-2 practically manhandles you into a better position-- probably annoyed that you’re slipping. Which is not your fault, you’d like to add. It’s not your fault K-2SO was all limbs and has no real surface to perch yourself on. 

He’d probably slap you if he heard you say that out loud.

“Probation could, uh, put a damper on things; I’m not… I’m not sure?”

“Is there anything you’re sure of?” K-2 scoffs. He spreads his legs a little wider, taking yours with it, and digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh until you whine. Pleased with the response, he gives one last squeeze before releasing you. 

“A-aren’t you worried we’re gonna get caught?” you hiss at him, jolting when his fingers trail inwards until it brushes against your clit. Maker, you don’t even know what you’d do if you got caught. Your brain is too scrambled right not to think properly, and lying isn’t programmed in droids in case he would have to make up for the fact your brain is quickly turning into mush. K-2 is too much of a character to lie easily anyways. Cassian always complains that he’s not good at acting or lying, but too sassy to keep his mouth shut and let others talk for him. You hear a quiet, internal whirring from K-2 as he almost absentmindedly teases the outside of your entrance. But you know this motherfucker. 

Everything he does is deliberate and intentional. 

“The probability of us getting caught sits at 63% currently,” he says, “and rises with each pathetic moan you give.” He finally, finally sinks one, long digit into your aching hole, simultaneously shoving his fingers in your mouth as you’re mid-moan to cut you off. “46% now.” You want to be mad at him, but he presses down on your tongue to silence you, and you worry that if you spoke up, he’d stop completely. You wouldn’t put it past him to leave you here, aching and wanting. He’s done it before, and he’d do it again. The perks of being a droid is that he doesn’t care or have anything to deal with if your little rendezvous got interrupted. K-2 has nothing to worry about. All he thinks of is the next time he gets to fuck with you, mentally and physically, while you’re out here stressing over every little detail.

“K-2,” you say, garble, really, and thrust your hips up to try and urge him to do more than just lazily thrust his fingers in and out of you. If you could look at him, you’re sure he would be rolling his eyes at you and your lack of patience, but he seems to understand what you’re saying and slips in another finger next to you. You turn your head and spit his fingers out, moaning when he curls his fingers in you. 

“You do know that you tend to be loud when I pleasure you, right?” K-2 asks you bluntly, but he brings his spit-slick fingers down to rub at your clit anyways. 

“Don’t,” you gasp out, kicking your leg out and slipping down a little further, “don’t say like it’s a-a chore.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, “it is a chore.” You frown and try to hoist yourself back up. 

“Then why do you even--” K-2 shushes you with another curl of his fingers alongside a rough swipe up your clit that leaves you gasping, and you nearly slam your head against his torso as you straighten up. You bite your lip to stop the curse that wells up before it can get out. 

“It’s rude to interrupt people before they finish talking,” he scolds. Then after a moment, “It is a chore,” he repeats, “but I highly doubt that there are other people that would willingly let me do this to them.” 

Of course that was it. You can’t help be disappointed by his answer, but what else had you expected from someone like K-2SO of all people? Or droids, more accurately. Because of course this snarky, sarcastic reprogrammed Imperial droid would only be involved with you because no one else would. Because you’re depraved and desperate for any affection that you’ll find it in a dismissive droid who probably would drop you at any given moment the second you he deems you uninteresting--

“I can practically hear you thinking,” K-2 says, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Are you getting bored?” He slows down his movements, but you grind back down to meet him, and he resumes, stretching and scissoring you open until your toes curl. Eventually, he slips in a third finger, leaving you panting. The metal of K-2’s fingers are hard and unforgiving in your wet heat, but you suppose that’s why it’s all the more enticing. “I asked you a question.”

“No I’m not ‘getting bored’,” you grit out. Despite how you’ve been stuck in your own head and worrying, K-2 is too good at what he’s doing. Just a little more--

“Then what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing’s the matter, K-2, just-- c’mon, a little more?” you beg him. You really don’t want to have this conversation now. You cant your hips up, and try to look up at him with the best pleading eyes you can muster, pouting your bitten lips. 

“Something is obviously the matter,” he complains, looking down at you, but he speeds up and rubs your clit in a way he knows you like, forcing a gasp from you. “Remember to be quiet or we’ll get caught.” You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, the other to play with your breast as you focus on the wet sounds filling the air, the way K-2 is tireless in his movements, at how exposed and filthy you must look right now, having an Imperial droid finger fuck you in an empty meeting room at a Rebel base--

You keen high in your throat when you cum, and this time you actually do slam your head on the metal of his chassis. Instinctively, you try to bring your knees together as K-2 keeps insistently touching you as you ride out your orgasm, but your legs are still hooked around his, and he’s unmoving as you shake in his lap. 

“Twenty-six minutes,” K-2SO notes, then he picks you up by hooking his arms underneath your armpits, and sets you on the cold meeting table before handing you your shirt. 

“What?” you breathe out. Your head is still spinning as you try to get your bearings, and at least the cold of the table jolts you back to your senses a little. 

“It took you twenty-six minutes to reach orgasm this time,” he clarifies. K-2 bends down to pick up your discarded pants and underwear and tosses them at you. You barely manage to catch it before it smacks you in the face. 

“And that’s significant because… how?”

“Your average time to reach completion is twenty-three,” K-2SO says, once again, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “So something was on your mind.” You sigh and tug on your pants. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“K-2, I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” you say to him, and you can’t help it, but your tone is short despite how your hands are still racked with the occasional tremor. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he says dryly, watching you as you button up your shirt. You shoot him a nasty glare, but re-lace your boots and use the reflection of the smudged meeting table to make sure you looked presentable. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, but you doubt anyone would bring it up if you encountered them in the halls on the way back to your room. “If you ask me--”

“Well, I didn’t, so shut it, K-2,” you snap at him. You stomp towards the door before you can lace your other boot. “Go find Cassian and bother him for a while.” You’re being cold and just downright a bitch to K-2SO, you know, and you don’t doubt that he’ll vaguely tell Cassian about it, but your nerves are still buzzing and high strung, and you really, really don’t want to have this talk with him right now. If K-2 knew what was good for him, he’d leave it alone.

And as you shut the door behind you, you hear him say, “Ah, of course. Cassian. As if he’d listen to me.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @mudhornmando  @pedrosdoll​ @creamysacrilege @blondecity @satans-tongues @skinny-macncheese @mrsparknuts @eupphoriaaa @talesfromtheguild

[greenninjagal-blog]

Restart

Summary: Virgil is not a dangerous person. The color of his hair says otherwise.(Aka: when you gain a superpower, a physical part of you changes pigment and Virgil’s unlucky enough that his was his hair)

A quick drabble I’ve had sitting in my notes!

Ship: none

Warnings: character death

Words: 1126

The beginning is a great place to start.

Virgil was sure the beginning would make the most sense. After all, in school they had always nudged him to write his essays in chronological order so that the reader could follow along with his logic like leading a dog on a leash. He could explain each of the events as how they occurred, and maybe somewhere along the writing of the story he’d figure out where it went so wrong, how it went so terribly wrong. Maybe telling the story from the start would make it seem less real, less like it was true. Maybe starting at the beginning was the only fair thing to do.

“No, no, no,” Virgil sobbed, “Not you!”

“Virgil,” His tone was distance, empty, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. But he was. Of course he was. Dee knew him like the back of his hand: knew what Virgil would do, where he would run when they finally came for him.

Virgil pressed his back against the brick, his ears ringing, his body shaking. “I’m not dangerous.”

“I really am sorry, Virge.” Dee said, switching off his safety with practice ease. As if he had done it a million times before. As if it wasn’t Virgil standing at the other end of it, scarcely breathing.

“Dee—” Virgil croaked. He sounded worse than before; his words scratched on the dry sandpaper of his throat coming off chipped and broken and hopeless. Because Virgil had never been a master of words, not like how Dee had been, twisting his silver tongue in his mouth like a snake. Dee had always been the trouble maker of the two of them, but he had also been the one to get them out of trouble too.

But this was a trouble that one could just talk them out of. This was a trouble that had turned Virgil into the most hated thing in the world. He wasn’t dangerous—he wasn’t. But his fluttering purple bangs were unnatural, and anything unnatural needed to be removed.

“One of us has to go,” He said, simply. And it was that simple: so simple. Virgil wondered if somewhere under his terror, his panic, his denial that this was even happening, it really was that simple. It was one of them: Dee or Virgil and Dee was the one with a gun in his hand.

Decisions often went in favor of whoever held the biggest weapon and history was always written by the victor.

Virgil wondered fleetingly, what Dee would write. What was there to write? They had a million misadventures from their childhood to choose from and yet Virgil couldn’t help but think that it meant nothing. In the end it was always going to be this: eighteen years of life spent running and looking over his shoulder without realizing that Dee was leading him straight off a cliff. Raised for a slaughter.

“Please,” Virgil whispered, “don’t… do this.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if which was of them was shaking more, or if Dee was shaking at all. Maybe Virgil was shaking badly enough for both of them. Maybe he was imagining the barrel of the gun dipping, Dee’s lip quivering, the flicker of hesitation in the other boys’ eyes.

“Virge,” Dee whispered, “This is the only way.”

“Tell them I got away.” Virgil choked back a sob, “Please Dee. Don’t do this.”

For his part, Dee only looked mildly conflicted. Virgil felt like his chest was going to explode, his heart was beating so loud he could barely hear anything else. It felt like they were alone in the alley, alone in the city, alone in the entire world, and yet Virgil still felt like there wasn’t enough air for the two of them. Dee swallowed hard, the bulb in his throat dodging up and down behind the abyss of death that Virgil was staring down.

“I’m sorry,” Dee whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.” Virgil wasn’t sure when the other boy started crying, but his tears were fat silver bulbs on his cheeks, as beautiful as they terrible. They matched Virgil’s, drop for drop.

Dee’s head slipped downwards, until he was staring at their shoes together. His thick black combat boots, thick heeled and polished and brand new which were in drastic contrast to Virgil’s obsolete scuffed and ragged purple converse that had all the wear of the years they had been through.

Virgil wanted to scream.

Instead he raised a hand and grabbed Dee’s wrist. Both their skins were feverish, blotchy messes feeling too hot and too cold at the same time. There was a reason Virgil hated human contact, a reason he hated being too close to other people, but it had never felt like this. Not with Dee.

Dee had always been grabbing him by the wrist, a wide, innocent smile on his face, and telling him what adventure was theirs for the taking. He was the one that bridged the gap between them when they were kids.

Virgil didn’t dare think that this was the same. This wasn’t bridging a gap between two kids.

He pushed down on the handgun, moving it away from him. Dee let him.

“I don’t want to do this,” Dee whispered, as if that made it better. Virgil thought maybe it did.

Because Dee was a good liar, and he could make anyone believe anything. Virgil had seen him do it for years without a hint of the pigment change. It was a superpower, but it wasn’t: Dee could make up a lie and they could split up and Dee wouldn’t have to become the murderer of his best friend.

And Virgil wouldn’t have to die.

“Dee,” Virgil choked. It was all he could manage, all he could think. He couldn’t breathe, much less form the rest of the words that rumbled around his head like thunder clouds blocking all reasoning and striving for a way to wake up from this nightmare.

If there was a way, it was this.

He threw himself past the other boy, his limbs working on their own, but not against his wishes. His mind reeled. Maybe Virgil should have been grateful it was Dee down this hall, because Dee was the only one who would let him push away the gun and let Virgil escape. Let him disappear, become someone else, dye his hair and bury Virgil so deep that no one finds him every again.

The thunder exploded in his ears, echoing off the enclosed alleyway and shattering the screaming in his head all at once. The world froze, then blurred, then the ground rushed up to his face.

The beginning is a great place to start.

The end is even better.

[imcynfinite]

her name is cyn.

This kid. Head always in the clouds. You couldn't keep her grounded. Only liked reality when it stimulated her imagination. Read a lot of books because she liked the trip. Did a lot of unhealthy things for attention. Always compared to her sisters and never getting affection just for herself, there had to be another way to get noticed. So she stole. Glasses from her classmate's desks during reading time on the carpet (sorry, Salita), Sour Power candy from lunchboxes after bake sales, mechanical pencils from the supply shop that she'd tuck into her uniform jumper, books from the library after she read them, pretending she returned them just so she could have their worlds to escape to at home whenever she needed to. She lied a lot, too. A pathological liar. That's what her mother called her when she was caught in the act. She was ALWAYS caught in the act, but couldn't stop doing it. Lying felt good. Even as the lie formed words that she knew wouldn't be convincing enough, she could. Not. Stop. It was here that she first learned she could tell stories, but didn't see her power yet. She used them ill. When she couldn’t drift off, she grew resentful. Loved alone time. Sought after it to escape. Sure, she'd play dolls with her little sister, or watch Saturday morning cartoons and Toonami after school with her older sister. She allowed herself to be herself with her siblings, but only until she was compared to them or didn't have control over the situation. She was never good enough. She couldn't be the pageant queen with stardom in her future like her little sister, and couldn't be the first born who did everything right like her older sister. She didn't understand the pressures they faced holding such titles, but at that age, how could she? At that age, it stung. What could she do right? What title could she hold? She loved her sisters, but couldn't be them. So deep down, she grew resentful. Acted really mean towards them, in ways she couldn't help. Much much later on, she'd spend a day trying to understand why she grew cold with them so many times during her teens and young adulthood, and the resentment will click. It'll all make sense to her, the healing to not blame her sisters for their parents' comparisons will begin, and a newfound friendship and appreciation will bloom. But here? How could she have known? She loved food. Don't know when it started, but once it did, it took off. She ate a lot, because food made her happy. When she was sad and resentful, food was forgiving. Soothing. It didn't judge her in the slightest. She'd ask for more at dinner. Get the extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. Asked the kids during lunch if they were gonna finish that. Sometimes was so hungry, she'd sneak and take a bite or two of her lunch before the bell. She started gaining weight. That cute face growing round, belly poking. But she was fine. A beautiful, chubby kid. The first time she learned something was wrong with her body, though, was seven years old. Frustrated they couldn't find a communion dress that fit, her mother told her it was her fault. "You have to do something about this." A few years later, her father, out of deep frustration and desperate to bring her to shame to incite some motivation, called her an elephant. Her mother tried to take food away from her, but that just made her want it even more. How could something that made her feel good be so bad? The one thing that validated her existence was the enemy? No. Her mother tried, and tried, and tried. But little did she know, it just made the girl cling to it harder. Seek its affection. Crave its nurturing. She had no idea she was growing an addiction. This kid had charm. You see that smile? The softness in her eyes. The brightness in her spirit. She did things her way, because she projected the world as what she saw in her head. People were charmed by it, and she had no idea. Co-workers of her mother took a liking to her every time she came to the parties. One in particular always gifted her with Nancy Drew books, every birthday. Just because. She thought this kid was beautiful and joyous and couldn't help checking in on her or asking her mother how she was. Asking if she finished reading her book, and considering expanding her gifts to include The Hardy Boys. ...People watched this girl. Liked her spunk. Liked the mystery of not knowing what exactly she was, but feeling good being in her presence. This kid had charm, and she had no idea. How could she? If she wasn't being compared to, she was told no one would like her looking like she did, round belly and all. That having bad grades meant you were lazy and stupid, and not that you possibly had issues concentrating. Teachers complained about her staring out of the windows for too long and not doing her homework. Kids bullied her for not being pretty or not liking what they liked. That she kept to herself and was a "trouble maker". No one liked the kids who upset the teachers. Sisters that loved her but couldn't stick up for her. They didn't understand. She didn't have anyone to tell her she was just fine the way she was. Magnificent, even. She grew tired of the loneliness. Her imagination was fun, sure. But reality got realer, and she needed a way to deal. She just had to. So, she transformed. Right into high school, she became a vibrant spirit who cracked jokes to make people laugh. Rebelled against her parents and pretended not getting good grades and being fat was something she wasn't ashamed of. Joined drama club and performed on stages. Cut off her permed hair and rocked a fro. Writing like crazy and showing anyone who cared; growing a fan base in school and online. She didn't know it then, but it was here she was learning her voice had volume, and people wanted her to blast it. She became someone she'd write about in her stories. Even though it was all an act, her best starring role to date, it was enough to help her get by. To survive. It silenced the self-hatred that was beginning to build due to neglect of interrogation, but as time went on and new masks took form, she realized pretending meant neglecting that inner child who just wanted to be herself and liked for it. Who didn't want to be compared. Who didn't want to be frowned upon for not being pretty. Who didn't want to be told they were too much, or too little. Who just wanted to SHOW UP, without pushback. At 29 years old, I've realized how much of myself I've created just to be seen. Over the last five years, something has called on me to undo those masks and to begin living in my truth. As a storyteller who wants to hold up the mirror, I was chosen to perform, and I was then tasked to learn how to leave the costume backstage. Not to make a home out of it. For friends, for lovers, for parents, for society, I have done so much dancing to survive, but that isn't LIVING. That isn't love. It's not care, it's not protection, it's not kindness. For a majority of my childhood, I spent it daydreaming. Wishing reality could look like my wildest dreams. And here I am, facing what truth looks like and realizing that I can bend it. I can find a way to merge my dreams and my reality without disappointing my inner child who'd rather get lost in the clouds and pretend she's riding them. That kid doesn't know how amazing she is. I don't remember everything, but for the things I do, sometimes I'm charmed by her, too. I look in the mirror and don't always recognize that kid, but sometimes when I look off into the distance and my lover asks, "Hey. Where did you go?" or my mother looks at me and just smiles because I'm radiating light she can't deny, I remember. When I write my tweets and people respond with, "You should write a book. The way you write, I'd read anything you make," I remember. When I decide to meditate and my imagination brings me back to a dream I had a while ago, I remember. When I look in the mirror and look past the make-up and the experiences I've lived, I see her. She's so precious, man. She's a kook, lol. She's rambunctious and impulsive and loud and expressive and quiet and dreamy and fluid and hard. She's a whole ass universe. I wish she knew her impact. God, I wish she knew. I do my best to tell her... well, I'm learning to. When she wants to throw a tantrum, I'm learning how to parent her the way she needed. I'm trying to work with her. When she wants me to perform for people to get the attention she wants, I try not to fight her but get her to understand we can't do that anymore. That maybe we don't NEED to do that anymore. That maybe it's time we just be who we wanna be. She doesn't know what that means. I try to explain that it's like her daydreams, except real. She's not convinced. "Dreams are better." She walks away to her corner to embark on a mental journey. It's a constant battle with her. She wins a lot of the time. She's stubborn like that. But every now and again, when something in reality works just like or better than we could have imagined, there's a glimmer in her eye. Hope, I think.

As I learn to navigate adulting, I run into fear, and run away from responsibility. But 2019 taught me that it's high time I stop running, because the freedom I'm meant to have is so rich and the brilliance I harbor is so abundant, they're meant to marry. The mirror I want my stories to reflect to the world require I go through this transformation, and feel it ALL. I've stayed in places I didn't belong, loved people who weren't as good to me as they could, hid from opportunities that could give me wings, all because of who I thought I was. All of the voices from people I loved who, when I think about it now, were simply afraid for me and themselves and just didn't know how to say that. Despite knowing the masks I've put in place to survive and understanding that in 2020, I'm being asked to leave them behind, the fear of shedding skin is real. Because that means people I wanted to stay forever have to go. The stories I repeat to myself have to end. Discernment to trust I will always do my best to give myself what I need must be sharpened. Love, the way I want to experience it, must be given room to walk into and I have to set the example. 2019, my goodness. What an acid trip. A chapter I hated to write, and probably should have embraced more of. It dragged me because I had given up on myself during a period where curiosity could have governed me further. I remember being a kid who loved to be curious. Now, I hide away in fear. Where is that girl? I'm determined to meet her again. Talk to her. Conjure up a master plan. I cannot play small, and the universe has stopped begging. It's sitting back now, watching what I'll do now that it's not up my ass. I turn 30 years old this year, and there's something personal to that. A resonance very warm. Will I meet the beauty of that turning point of my life with arms wide open? Will I grab the opportunity to take that kid's hand and show her something different? Can I stand by her?... This kid's name is Cynthia. She's one of the coolest kids I know. And if no one else can, then I will. I'll stand by her. I'll stand by me.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [428]

“You’re going over budget,” Josephine says. Dorian just stares at her.

“We’re organized crime,” He says.

Josephine just looks at him, as if to say, yes. And?

Dorian sighs and asks an un-answering and unforgiving Maker for patience to understand how things work in the South, because by all logic they shouldn’t.

“We have a strict budget for accomplishing the tasks we need to do,” Josephine says, calmly and patiently like some of Dorian’s best teachers and some of the best most reliable crime family accountants he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, “We have several operations running at any given time, Dorian. If we do not give each operation certain guidelines to work within then things could rapidly go downhill for us. Do you think the Inquisition has an endless supply of money? We aren’t a crime family. We don’t have a river of wealth that goes back generations, nor do we have the cash flow or physical assets that can be liquidated for cash when we need it. We have income, it’s stable. But it isn’t capable of supporting us if we go past our restrictions.”

“We need to pay off the police,” Dorian says.

“That’s been accounted for in your budget,” Josephine replies.

“I must be having trouble with the rate of conversion because there is no world in which that amount of money can pay off that many people,” he says.

“Combine the money with something else,” Josephine says, “You aren’t new to this, Dorian. Surely you’ve done this before?”

Dorian feels a touch insulted.

“Of course I’ve paid people off before, it’s just that where I come from there’s an industry standard for it!” Dorian waves his hand, “It’s like how you don’t send someone yellow roses on Valentines and you never send mums as a gift, and you never wear white to someone else’s wedding. It’s common knowledge.”

“I’m going to put this all down as culture shock,” Josephine says, eyes laughing at him, “Why don’t you ask someone for help in learning how we bribe people here?”

Dorian thinks about it.

“I shouldn’t ask Lavellan.”

“You absolutely should not ask Lavellan. She goes from trying to pay government officials off with whatever spare change is in her pocket to throwing blocks of almost pure cocaine at people who’s cars she’s stolen while she’s stealing them depending on her mood. Not even the Iron Bull can figure out that thought pattern, he thinks it has something to do with the weather and for lack of a better explanation I have to put my hope and money on that,” Josephine agrees, “Ask Sera, she’s very good at being under budget.”

Sera would never let him live it down.

“Anyone else I could ask?”

“We’re organized crime,” Josephine says sweetly. “You could ask anyone. Except for the Inquisitor.”

“Do you have anyone very good at it in mind so I don’t learn at a sub-par standard?” Dorian rephrases.

“Yes,” Josephine answers, “But you won’t like who I say.”

“Say it.”

“The Iron Bull.”

“Sera it is.”

-

“You rigged the basketball match,” Lavellan repeats dumbly. “You rigged a sports match.”

“It was easier than I thought it would be,” Garrett muses, stroking his beard as he pats a stack of bills that Anders is busy running through a counter while Merrill takes down numbers. “And don’t worry, I’ve got your share. I’m not going to stiff you on this, you’re a good ally to my family and you did let us use some of your resources to get us in on the business.”

“Oh my god,” Lavellan groans, putting her face in her hands. “I’d kill you if it’d do anything. You rigged the game. Do you know what I put on this thing?”

“The Inquisition put money on this?”

“No! I made a wager with Gaspard of Orlais that if my team won the match he’d have to get me in and vouch for me with his cousin,” Lavellan snaps. “And if he fucking finds out that the match was rigged I’m going to have an entire crime circuit blacklisting mine. I needed this match to be fuckin’ by the book and cleaner than my sexual history.”

Anders snickers.

Garrett grimaces. “That’s a little TMI.”

“Too much information? Hawke, there is no information on my sexual history because I don’t have one.” Lavellan throws her hand over her head, “That one just went straight over you didn’t it?”

“You’re my favorite,” Anders says, leaning around Garrett to look at Lavellan and give her a high five.

“Aw, thanks, boo. Think about my offer to join up some more, okay? My door is always open for you,” Lavellan says leaning around Hawke to smack her palm against Anders’. She turns back to Hawke, expression schooled back into stoic concern “Hawke. Tell me that this can’t be traced. I don’t know how you rigged the game and I don’t want to know, but tell me it can’t be traced.”

“I’m not calling you a liar,” Merrill sings.

“Just don’t lie to me,” Anders finishes.

Garrett takes Lavellan’s hands in his, “I solemnly swear to you that if this can be traced I have absolutely no idea how they’d do it.”

“Kill me,” Lavellan says, turning to the Iron Bull. “Just end me right here. Right now. I want to die by your hands, babe. I’d never live it down if I got done in by Orlesians.”

Bull makes an obnoxious sound slurping the absolute last drops of his soda, looking her dead in the eye as he releases the straw with a pop, “But. Babe. If I kill you before all of Orlais can get to you, who’s going to kill me before Cassandra kills me for killing you?”

“Yikes, I always forget that you’ve got Pentaghast,” Garrett says, stepping back. “You didn’t bring her here, did you? Because I had Varric in one of the VIP seats and that woman’s got a radar on her, I swear - “

Lavellan kicks his shin. “I was having a moment, Hawke.”

“Ow! Hey!” Hawke yelps, “That’s assault. I’m pretty sure that’s assault. Anders? Merrill? Your beloved leader has been attacked and you’re just going to sit there and count stacks of money? That’s really cold.”

“I don’t see Marian anywhere,” Anders says pretending to sound surprised, “Do you, Merrill?”

“Nope,” Merrill says, “Just Garrett.”

“So cold.”

[hxpeincarnate-a]

— ◈  |   She is an AGENT OF SPROUT - the scout of TEAM 351 which is the team ( in general ) meant to handle sever problems. This team is her party - the cast of members for the story. Yet, they all have a team attack in pairs, with some of the most powerful ones being between the main three, Arthur, Luis and Ryder. They work near flawlessly together, and are called out at the late of night ( typically around 3 - 5 am ) when the real monsters come out. 

— ◈  |   Kaida isn’t really scared to get dirty in a fight. This is because of some of the things done to her at a young age, but also the fact that she lives with a man, her uncle - SEBASTIAN HYKEAN  - who has taught her that no fight will always be fair. When someone gets desperate, they fight back with whatever they got, even if it means bringing a gun to a knife fight. Due to this, Kaida will sometimes even mess with street gangs, mostly to scare them, let them know that they aren’t the biggest trouble on the streets. This is especially so in her teenage years, where she would regularly get a few bumps and bruises from some trouble makers that would always stalk children. 

— ◈  |   She hates going near the docks, even when on a mission. She looses her cockiness because she knows the seriousness of the warehouses that hide so much more suffering than they look like they do. As some may know, the Lunar Order is a cult, and the wendigos whom are a part of it like to bring new victims to said warehouses to bring them as close to despair as possible. Due to Kaida being the GOD OF HOPE && DREAMS she has to stop this, even if going into wendigo territory fucks with her, as, in close range to a pack of them, her own HOPE will begin to dip to try and equalize out the depravity. 

— ◈  |   As a little girl ( before she remembers that she’s a god ), she’s absolutely terrified of the shadows that would lick at her ankles and whisper her name, beckoning her to be more and more terrified or even worse, come play in limbo. Due to this, as a child she’d carry a plush toy with her almost everywhere she went, not caring if it got muddied and dirty, because she swore that the plush would protect her. Said plush... actually just seemed to appear in her room one day - it’s this cute ( knitted, almost ) gecko that is one of her familiars from the past. At night, when she’s asleep and no adult is around to protect her from the shadows, it springs to life, attacking them with claws and a nasty bite. She never realizes this until later on, but she’s very thankful for the little plush guardian. 

— ◈  |   She makes trouble for the police a lot of the time not due to her own wants, but to pull them away from things that SPROUT or KNiGHTs need to deal with specifically. Whenever she mentions some SWAT team picking up a creep? It’s probably SPROUT. Not only that but SPROUT pays her to sneak in to the police station some nights and steal files, especially relating to murders that are ( most definitely ) caused by mythics in some way. Over the years ( and repeats ) she’s grown so used to seeing murder files that, if one was slapped right in front of her, be it the most horrible imagery, she wouldn’t even flinch and be able to tell you what mythic did it or come up with a damn good lie if talking to a mortal. 

— ◈  |   -- YET Kaida isn’t a good liar, she has great charisma and can make even a baby give her candy with just a look or some magic, but her nervous ticks show all too much ( i.e. scratching her skull / neck, pacing, tapping her fingers against something, avoiding eye contact ). Due to this, she usually tries to wait for someone to say something for her to branch off of and use as a jumping post to save her skin if need be. The worst of it all is lying to parental figures or family ( even if not related by blood ) as she actually shows a bit of a shake, obviously worried in them catching her in her tall tale. 

— ◈  |   Kaida is one of those kids who got bullied a lot and mostly let it happen out of knowing that if she fought back, someone would get more hurt than just a little paper cut or a tiny punch. This however, got thrown out the window when seeing mythics bully humans, and boy will she make sure they KNOW not to mess with any of them ever again, making sure their life becomes sudden hell with her own magic being terrifying to be around if you haven’t experienced it on a regular. 

— ◈  |   Back on the cops talk, Kaida has saved police officers from Wendigos - she does it on a regular, sometimes SOLO without the help of her gang, which, makes it extremely hard for her as the officers have sometimes realized it’s a KID saving them, not some superman wearing tights. This is also why she carries a few flash and smoke grenades on her person, but if an officer is down and she knows she’s going to be the only one to save their life, she won’t fret from showing her true self to ( especially ) mortals, even daring to summon her soul weapons quite a few times to buy them time, even if they yelled for her to run away. If she has the time, she’ll flash the rank 9 SPROUT badge that she has, but, she tends to just vanish without a trace once the monsters have been dealt with, to heal her own wounds and repeat. 

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for june 17 of 2022 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17, accompanied by Psalm 90 for the 90th day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 18 for day 168 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 17]

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

[Book Four]

[Psalm 90]

A prayer of Moses, a man of God.

Lord, You have always been our refuge.

Our ancestors made You their home long ago.

Before mountains were born,

before You fashioned the earth and filled it with life,

from ages past to distant futures,

You are truly God.

You turn people back to dust,

saying, “Go back to the dust, children of Adam.”

For You a thousand years is like a day when it is over,

a watch during the night;

there is no difference to You.

You release the waters of death to sweep mankind away in his slumber.

In the morning, we are blades of grass,

Growing rapidly under the sun but withering quickly;

yet in the evening, we fade and die, soon to be cut down.

For Your anger has consumed us.

Your wrath has shaken us to the core

and left us deeply troubled.

You have written our offenses before You—

the light of Your presence shines brightly on our secret sins,

and we can’t run or hide.

For all our days are spent beneath Your wrath;

our youth gives way to old age, and then

one day our years come to an end with a sigh.

We may journey through life for 70 years;

some may live and breathe 80 years—if we are strong.

Yet our time here is only toil and trouble;

soon our days are gone, and we fly away.

Who can truly comprehend the power unleashed by Your anger?

Your wrath matches the fear that is due to You.

Teach us to number our days

so that we may truly live and achieve wisdom.

How long will we wait here alone?

Return, O Eternal One, with mercy.

Rescue Your servants with compassion.

With every sun’s rising, surprise us with Your love,

satisfy us with Your kindness.

Then we will sing with joy and celebrate every day we are alive.

You have spent many days afflicting us with pain and sorrow;

now match those with years of unspent joy.

Let Your work of love be on display for all Your servants;

let Your children see Your majesty.

And then let the beauty and grace of the Lord—our God—rest upon us

and bring success to all we do;

yes, bring success to all we do!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 90 (The Voice)

[Psalm 18]

I love you, God—

you make me strong.

God is bedrock under my feet,

the castle in which I live,

my rescuing knight.

My God—the high crag

where I run for dear life,

hiding behind the boulders,

safe in the granite hideout.

I sing to God, the Praise-Lofty,

and find myself safe and saved.

The hangman’s noose was tight at my throat;

devil waters rushed over me.

Hell’s ropes cinched me tight;

death traps barred every exit.

A hostile world! I call to God,

I cry to God to help me.

From his palace he hears my call;

my cry brings me right into his presence—

a private audience!

Earth wobbles and lurches;

huge mountains shake like leaves,

Quake like aspen leaves

because of his rage.

His nostrils flare, bellowing smoke;

his mouth spits fire.

Tongues of fire dart in and out;

he lowers the sky.

He steps down;

under his feet an abyss opens up.

He’s riding a winged creature,

swift on wind-wings.

Now he’s wrapped himself

in a trenchcoat of black-cloud darkness.

But his cloud-brightness bursts through,

spraying hailstones and fireballs.

Then God thundered out of heaven;

the High God gave a great shout,

spraying hailstones and fireballs.

God shoots his arrows—pandemonium!

He hurls his lightnings—a rout!

The secret sources of ocean are exposed,

the hidden depths of earth lie uncovered

The moment you roar in protest,

let loose your hurricane anger.

But me he caught—reached all the way

from sky to sea; he pulled me out

Of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos,

the void in which I was drowning.

They hit me when I was down,

but God stuck by me.

He stood me up on a wide-open field;

I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!

God made my life complete

when I placed all the pieces before him.

When I got my act together,

he gave me a fresh start.

Now I’m alert to God’s ways;

I don’t take God for granted.

Every day I review the ways he works;

I try not to miss a trick.

I feel put back together,

and I’m watching my step.

God rewrote the text of my life

when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

The good people taste your goodness,

The whole people taste your health,

The true people taste your truth,

The bad ones can’t figure you out.

You take the side of the down-and-out,

But the stuck-up you take down a notch.

Suddenly, God, you floodlight my life;

I’m blazing with glory, God’s glory!

I smash the bands of marauders,

I vault the highest fences.

What a God! His road

stretches straight and smooth.

Every God-direction is road-tested.

Everyone who runs toward him

Makes it.

Is there any god like God?

Are we not at bedrock?

Is not this the God who armed me,

then aimed me in the right direction?

Now I run like a deer;

I’m king of the mountain.

He shows me how to fight;

I can bend a bronze bow!

You protect me with salvation-armor;

you hold me up with a firm hand,

caress me with your gentle ways.

You cleared the ground under me

so my footing was firm.

When I chased my enemies I caught them;

I didn’t let go till they were dead men.

I nailed them; they were down for good;

then I walked all over them.

You armed me well for this fight,

you smashed the upstarts.

You made my enemies turn tail,

and I wiped out the haters.

They cried “uncle”

but Uncle didn’t come;

They yelled for God

and got no for an answer.

I ground them to dust; they gusted in the wind.

I threw them out, like garbage in the gutter.

You rescued me from a squabbling people;

you made me a leader of nations.

People I’d never heard of served me;

the moment they got wind of me they listened.

The foreign devils gave up; they came

on their bellies, crawling from their hideouts.

Live, God! Blessings from my Rock,

my free and freeing God, towering!

This God set things right for me

and shut up the people who talked back.

He rescued me from enemy anger,

he pulled me from the grip of upstarts,

He saved me from the bullies.

That’s why I’m thanking you, God,

all over the world.

That’s why I’m singing songs

that rhyme your name.

God’s king takes the trophy;

God’s chosen is beloved.

I mean David and all his children—

always.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18 (The Message)

[angiehampt-blog]

If any of you girls have bigjoeylove bigj bigjoe or bigjoe74 I think that's it you need to block him. He stalks young girls pregnant girls girls with kids and everyone. He's profile isn't real the picture is somebody else. He makes different ones with no picture also. Those are the ones that I know of so far. I'm not trying to start any trouble. I'm warning you. I don't want to see anything bad or hear of anything bad. On all the websites that you have him on you really do need to block him. I'm being honest and just helping you out. Believe me when I'm telling you this. I would do it right away as soon as possible. My friend has told me some things about this person. She said that he is disrespectful and disgusting. She has kids and she blocked him. All you girls need to do it. You don't know everybody on here. You don't know what they can do to hurt you on here or on any other website. They hack and say some pretty nasty things about you or they get your pictures and make a fake profile of you and act like your dating or something. This is a big warning for all of you.

The guy that made the internet thinks it's funny that all this is happening and going on in this world today. He thinks it's great that little kids are seeing people naked on every site. I think it's just wrong and disrespectful to laugh about it. Like old perverts aren't doing it either. What a jerk. Does he think everybody is stupid and don't see what's going on. He's wrong. Of course Chinese has to do it to make them look better and they don't. They are all ugly people. Thinking that this is the greatest thing in the world well it's not. Kids and adults lie about their age to everybody so they can meet up and get raped and killed. That's funny not laughing. I think this is the worse ever they have done to this world. If paper don't cost much maybe we should go back to that instead of all of this. I hope that some people have a change of heart and change what they are doing to hurt relationship and people. This really is ashame how this world is going. Things really do need to change.

Sex offenders love this shit. All because they can lie because nobody knows who they are really talking to and the internet maker thinks it's all funny and laughs about it. Jokes about it. It makes me sick. Married couples split up because of this and all they can do is laugh in your face. That's bullshit. The guys are on their phones more then girls are well you get it. This is nothing but cheating on the ones you love so much and want to spend the rest of your life with. You think they will put up with this their whole life. No!!!! There is no true love if you got this going on. But do you think they care no. I really hope that you guys think about this and do something to change.

The thing with the maps yeah they know where you are. Dating sites yuck that's a problem they show you were you live. Your house and everything how stupid is that. They make it so easy for all this dumb shit to get out on the interent. Girls who make videos are sick and post themselves like that is just gross. No wonder the good people have trust issues in their lives because of all this that they put out there. They don't give a shit if they wreck your family. Why would they because the girls want to be stupid and post it. So those perverts can see everything also. Just like the government can see everything you do. But their is no care in this world. Hardly any happiness in people anymore why I guess it's because this happened in their life so now there is no trust anymore. Good job internet assholes. You guys really did your job. You all suck.

This even goes for the older women. I think you girls really need to stop all this and go out in the world and see who you can meet in person talk about things face to face then see if they are right for you. Not all this internet shit. Please tell me that I'm sexy I have a great ass or my body is shaped very well. Or listen to I would love to fuck you and get with you. Oh please!!! Stupid shit. Some of them lie to just get in your pants and whose to say they don't have something that you'll catch. It's discussing and so disrespectful. That's what you call cheating on your partner. That's not cool either. There is nothing funny or exciting about all this. You all go about all this the wrong way. You all make yourselves look ugly for doing all this. Nothing is sexy about it. Oh forgot your tits are the best that I have ever seen. Haha the jokes on you.

Hooray for the fucking internet the has ruined the world and a lot of relationships. Fucking cool. People love their phones more then their relationship because of whores that show their location on maps just for a fuck yeah cheating assholes. There is something to do then this for money. This shit is fucking awful. It's the most retarded thing that people can do to each other. They hide their shit from their partner not telling then or showing them anything that they are doing all over the internet. The secrets suck and the other is overthinking about everything. They don't want to be with that for the rest of their lives. They don't let them know who text or call them. They just keep their shit hidden. That's not life this is killing people and it sucks. The internet is the worse shit and the number one of depressing people because of this. You can't find a lot of decent people anymore. The world is getting pretty shitty and only getting worse. All you people who watch this shit and look at this shit is the worse people in the world. You all suck. This is why it don't last with people. You go out to a restaurant and you see older men just eye balling the young women or little girls like they are hungry. They look at their ass because of what they can wear now days to work what the fuck. It's getting out of hand. It's bullshit. Somebody needs to get rid of the ugly people who think this is funny. This is really sad. Snapchat let's you know where the person lives shows it right on the map so you can go get a piece of ass and what a nasty disease from someone maybe you guys do it to show everything so they can get a quick fuck these dumb young girls and women are the dumbest in the world. Their partner can lie to them about the map and say it's a house for sale yeah right it's that girl that wants to fuck so let's move around there so I can get a quick one before I go home from work lol she would never know. Yeah it's fucking great putting yourselves all over the internet like a piece of shit that you are. Cheating bastards go to hell and I hope karma is going to get all you motherfuckers soon. Instagram does the same shit they want all your shit so people know where you live for the same thing really what the fuck. Reddit is fucking stupid also. Why can't the internet just be funny and no porn or sex involved. Have fun in a fun way no to see all that shit every time or all the time. It's fucked up. You even try to report somebody and they keep them on here like it's no big deal. I hope fuckers start getting sued when something happens to a loved one of the family or friend. Some people kill themselves by their partners being on this shit. That's funny to them. Yay they make me sick laughing like it's a joke haha well the joke will be on you soon. Good day.

I hope his girlfriend knows what he really does behind her back. He's a liar cheater and love's to hide shit exceptly if it's got something to do with young girls on here. He makes up excuses so he doesn't look like a bad guy. If he sees young girls out somewhere or in the car he will touch himself in public exceptly if your in spandex or excise pants yoga also. He loves to look at every girls ass and hoping that he's girlfriend is stupid to listen to his excuse. I'm not doing nothing wrong but you can see his eyes and if there is a mirror oh boy yeah he just loves it and tank tops he will look down their shirts to see their tits. What a great man that is. The stupid ass is always thinking that your doing things wrong and it's not you it's him doing the shit behind your back. He's not the guy you think he is. He's a using fucker that will hurt you in the long run. He wants to see what he can get out of the girl while he's out looking for somebody else. He's a no good piece of shit. He will fuck with your head so you will believe him. If you got kids stay away from him he will just act like he likes them to pull you in. He is the most disrespectful and disgusting guy in the world. She thinks that he loves her no he don't. He wants nothing to do with her as long as he's got his phone and bitches to look at everywhere she's nothing to him. He's got a lot going on with him that she will figure out one day. I just hope he treats her better then he did me and that they are happy but once she realizes that she's the fucking idiot that stayed with him she will cry and ask herself why did I do this to myself. What was I thinking. Then she think there was something wrong with her. No there's not it's him putting that shit in your head. I hope she wakes up before it's to late. He's gonna steal from you and won't give a fuck what he does to hurt you. He is the biggest asshole in the world. The nasty scum bad that you will ever meet. He looks at other girls outside or on the tv and if he likes her and thinks she cute he will want to think of you as her and want to fuck you harder and it don't matter what age the girl is if she is dressed like a slut well there you go. That is fucking discussing. I bet that is why she is the way she is. He probably told her that just like he told me that. It makes you feel like shit and hurt feelings. It upsets you and depresses you knowing that he is looking at 14 year olds that look older and dress slutty. I think that is the most fucked up thing you can do to a girl. It fucks with their head and always thinking. All his websites are fucking disrespectful and disgusting. I'm sure she don't know about that shit either. There are probably girls on there that lie about their age and he gets off on that shit. He is the biggest asshole. It's fucking discussing knowing that he is an older man and that he does this fucking shit and they are stupid college girls that is just to fucking young. I really hope she's not stupid and sees all this shit. There is nothing but shitty motherfuckers out here and he's fucking one of them. His girlfriend is gonna find out a lot more and if she leaves him then it's his fault not hers but he will always put the blame on the girls. He is very low-key. He don't give any fucks about girls at all he never will he is very disrespectful and disgusting fucking nasty ass motherfucker. I feel for her. He told me that he still loved me and really didn't want to get a divorce because he was gonna come back. He really don't want to be with her. So he's lying to her now. He said that I was prettier and that she's really ugly and don't mean nothing to him. He is fake and can get you to believe him. All I got to say is we still talk and I bet he tells you we don't and that I'm a bitch or something just like he tells me about you. That's why I say good luck.

I mean the girls could only be 16 working and he will be all over that shit and he's old. He's the biggest nastiest scum bag on this earth and nothing but a big retarded pervert that thinks his shit don't stink. If you all think he's great he's not he really does suck as a person. He is the one who fucks everything up and goes around bad mouthing the girl. He a no goid bastard to all the girls. He a big asshole and never nice. I just want to tell you parents to watch your daughters and wives or girlfriend when you see this person around anywhere. Someday I hope a girl causes him out or their man punches him in the face he deserves it maybe a father punch him in the face. I know it hurts that girl to go places with him because I went through the same shit. He would play with himself at a restaurant table looking at the girls and women but to tell you the truth it's anywhere and he really does love that fucking phone with his secrets and hidding all his shit what the fuck. He loves taking pictures of himself and sending them out to little girls and young women.It's fucking discussing. Fucking asshole wants to treat me like I'm a piece of shit and a whore. He's the fucking one that can't keep relationships because of the bullshit he does behind his girlfriends back and getting those nasty hoes to send him videos on his gmail joeford1974 so he can watch them at any age fucking sicko. People really to need to share this and get this out so they can block him from everything. He's a really fucking nasty guy. If he's girlfriend don't believe me she can even get a hold of Jennifer or maybe that fat bitch Mandy also and talk to them. I'm sure they won't lie to her. I can let her know a lot more but for now I hope this will get her attention and realize that she is nothing to him. She's not that important to him as much as that stupid fucking phone that has to be turned over on silent so she can't hear how fucked up is that. I know I went through it and it's hurtful and a bunch of shit. He doesn't want her to catch him doing all that so he can sit back and think it's all fun and games so fucking funny laughs at her like it's a joke big asshole piece of shit nasty motherfucker and disrespectful discussing fucking slob. This needs to get out to all the girls as soon as possible or he just needs to get off the internet from it all. Again I hope this gets out.

I hope she looks shit up on the internet to see all his bullshit that he's on. Tinder that is hooked up with facebook and tender that is with twitter. It's to meet people around you or close by. Fucking cheating bastard. You make me fucking sick. All you girls are fucking dumb to be adding him. He's a really big loser. The biggest junkie ever. It all goes through his gmail and phone text. Your girlfriend really needs to check you out more fucking loser. That's why I say good luck. That's why his shit is turned off and hidden. Karma is such a bitch dickhead.

He talks to all kinds of girls and saying that he is single while he's out cheating on you and he has 4 numbers that are from st.louis and they are girls numbers. What a real fucking loser. Your the biggest piece of shit. I bet she thinks everything is good and it's really not. He's not single he lives with his girlfriend and pulling stupid shit like always. He's the biggest fuck up in the world. The most fucking biggest cheating bastard ever. Don't be surprised if you don't catch something from him down the road. I hope someone sees this and sends it to her. Good luck.

The dirty no good cheating fucker also has yahoo and hotmail. He's probably still using them also like a dickhead and hidding more shit. I would delete him from everything.

I'm going to let her know that Jennifer Ford and him are always talking. He is trying to meet up with her at some strip bars. One is Blondie and the other one is the hustler club. Fat ass Mandy is trying to plan a trip for them. They send pictures back and forth to each other and she knows where he is all the time. Yeah pretty fucked up huh. Then he's talking to stupid Lisa. You tell me why he wants something to drive so he can go meet up with one of them someday. Oh there's plenty more and naked girls sending him shit also. I found all of this by one site that you pay for and find out all his shit. So yeah if I can talk to her I'll let her know which one it is and she can do it and find out her self. I just really need to find her. I'm sure he has fucked them all. But if she was to talk to somebody or do something like this all over the internet she's a whore no good bitch she's hidding shit from me and cheating. Look in the mirror you dirty lying fucking bastard. No time after you started talking to Jennifer again her last name went back to Ford so you lying to your girlfriend. That's fucked up and really a nasty fucking thing to happen. Your a fucking asshole and always will be. Secrets and hidding your the one fucking doing it. It was never her in the first place so you lied to me about her. How fucking nice of you dick. Good luck fucker.

If anybody can get a hold of his daughter or knows her please send this to her. Maybe she can send it to his girlfriend.

Facebook messenger is where a lot of his shit going. I bet he has all that turned off so you don't know a thing. He's only telling you want you want to know not everything that he's doing behind your back. Beware open your eyes he has nasty shit on messenger and emails with his phone all off and you can't hear a thing or see anything. What a dirty motherfucker. He's a really sick bastard. He really is hidding a lot from you. So I really hope you contact me as soon as you get this or see this. If not on here I can print everything and bring it with me to court and give it to you to read and all the pictures. I would love to send you the videos. You would be surprised of what you see.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for August 17 of 2021 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17, accompanied by Psalm 59 for the 59th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 79 for day 229 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 17]

A prayer of David.

Listen, O Eternal One, to my cry for justice.

These words of mine are true—turn Your ear toward me.

Announce that I am free of all the charges against me—only You can see into my heart to know that to be true.

Treat me with fairness; look at me with justice.

You have searched me—my heart and soul—awakened me from dreaming and tested me.

You’ve found nothing against me.

I have resolved not to sin in what I say.

The path violent men have followed,

I will not travel. Violence is not my way.

Your ways and Your voice now guide my journey.

I will press on—moving steadfastly forward along Your path.

I will not look back. I will not stumble.

I am crying aloud to You, O True God, for I long to know Your answer.

Hear me, O God. Hear my plea. Hear my prayer for help.

Put Your marvelous love on display for all to see.

Liberator of those who long for shelter beside You,

set them safely away from their enemies, ever welcomed by grace.

Keep close watch over me as the apple of Your eye;

shelter me in the shadow of Your wings.

Protect me from the wicked who are poised to attack,

from the enemies swarming around me and closing in quickly.

Like clay baking in the sun, their hearts have hardened;

arrogance spills from their mouths.

They’ve tracked me down like quarry.

They’re surrounding me

and are poised to throw me down into the dirt.

Like a lion—crouching in the brush—they are ready to tear me apart.

Like young lions in their hiding places, they are poised to strike.

Rise up and confront them, O Eternal One! Make them pay.

By Your sword, set me free from my wicked enemies!

May Your rescue find me here.

By Your hand, save me from my enemies, Eternal One.

Save me from men whose hopes are rooted in this world.

But as for those You cherish,

may they feast on all You have set aside for them;

may their children never be in need;

may they have enough so their children will inherit their wealth.

But as for me, my hope is to see Your face.

When I am vindicated, I will look upon the holy face of God,

and when I awake, the longing of my soul will be satisfied in the glow of Your presence.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 59]

For the worship leader. A prayer of David to the tune “Do Not Destroy,” when Saul sent assassins to David’s house.

Rescue me! Save me, O my God, from my enemies;

set me in a safe place, far above any who come to attack me.

Rescue me from those malicious people,

and save me from blood-thirsty murderers.

They have staked out my life; they are going to ambush me!

Those brutes are aligned, ready to attack me

For no good cause, my Eternal One.

I have not crossed them.

I’ve done nothing wrong, yet they rush ahead to start the assault.

I beg You to help me; come and see for Yourself!

I plead with You, Eternal One, Commander of heavenly armies, True God of Israel,

to get up and punish these people;

do not let any betrayer off the hook; show no mercy to malicious evildoers!

[pause]

Treacherous souls return to the city in the evening;

they prowl about,

howling like dogs.

Watch them! Snarling, dribbling their malicious insults.

Their words cut loose from their lips like swords,

and in their backstabbing they say, “Who’s listening anyway?”

But You, O Eternal One, laugh at them;

You make fun of all the nations.

I will watch for You, for You keep me strong.

God, You are my security!

My God is one step ahead of me with His mercy;

He will show me the victory I desire over my enemies.

Don’t wipe them out, or my people may one day forget.

Instead, use Your power to scatter and bring them to ruin.

O Lord, You are our protection.

Sin pours from their mouths, cruel words from their lips.

May they be caught in their pride.

For their foul curses and lies,

devour them with Your wrath,

eat them up, leave no one alive.

Then people will surely know that the one True God rules over Jacob,

even to the far ends of the earth.

[pause]

Treacherous souls return to the city in the evening;

they prowl about,

howling like dogs.

They search through the city, scavenging for meat

as they growl and grumble in dissatisfaction.

But me? I will sing of Your strength.

I will awake with the sun to sing of Your loving mercy

Because in my most troubled hour,

You defended me. You were my shelter.

I will lift my voice to sing Your praise, O my Strength—

for You came to my defense.

O God, You have shown me Your loving mercy.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 59 (The Voice)

[Psalm 79]

Prayer in a Time of National Disaster

Asaph’s poetic song

God, won’t you do something?

Barbarians have invaded your inheritance.

Your temple of holiness has been violated,

and Jerusalem has been left in ruins.

The corpses of your loving people are lying in the open—

food for the beasts and the birds.

The shed blood of your servants has soaked the city,

with no one left to bury the dead.

Now the nearby nations heap their scorn upon us,

scoffing, mocking us incessantly.

How much longer, O Yahweh, must we endure this?

Does your anger have no end?

Will your jealousy burn like a raging fire?

If you’re going to pour out your anger,

pour it out on all these nations around us, not on us!

They’re the ones who do not love you like we do!

See how they’ve attacked us, consuming the land,

leaving it desolate.

Please, God, don’t hold the sins of our fathers against us.

Don’t make us pay for their sins.

Hurry to our side, and let your tenderhearted mercy

meet us in our need, for we are devastated beyond belief.

Our hero, come and rescue us!

O God of the breakthrough, for the glory of your name,

come and help us!

Forgive and restore us; heal us and cover us in your love.

Why should all the nations sneer at us, saying,

“Where is this God of yours?”

Now is the time, Lord.

Show your people and all the world that

you will avenge this slaughter and bloodshed once and for all!

Listen, Lord! Hear the sighing of all the prisoners of war,

all those doomed to die. Demonstrate your glory-power,

and come and rescue your condemned children!

Lord God, take what these mocking masses have done to us

and pay it all back to them seven times over.

Then we, your devoted lovers, will forever thank you,

praising your name from generation to generation!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 79 (The Passion Translation)

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Thursday, September 17 of 2020 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17 accompanied by Psalm 90 for the 90th day of Summer and Psalm 111 for day 261 of the year

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

[Psalm 17]

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

Book 4

The Numbers Psalms

Psalms of our pilgrimage on earth

God, the Eternal

[Psalm 90]

A Prayer of Moses, Man of God

God, it seems you’ve been our home forever;

long before the mountains were born,

Long before you brought earth itself to birth,

from “once upon a time” to “kingdom come”—you are God.

So don’t return us to mud, saying,

“Back to where you came from!”

Patience! You’ve got all the time in the world—whether

a thousand years or a day, it’s all the same to you.

Are we no more to you than a wispy dream,

no more than a blade of grass

That springs up gloriously with the rising sun

and is cut down without a second thought?

Your anger is far and away too much for us;

we’re at the end of our rope.

You keep track of all our sins; every misdeed

since we were children is entered in your books.

All we can remember is that frown on your face.

Is that all we’re ever going to get?

We live for seventy years or so

(with luck we might make it to eighty),

And what do we have to show for it? Trouble.

Toil and trouble and a marker in the graveyard.

Who can make sense of such rage,

such anger against the very ones who fear you?

Oh! Teach us to live well!

Teach us to live wisely and well!

Come back, God—how long do we have to wait?—

and treat your servants with kindness for a change.

Surprise us with love at daybreak;

then we’ll skip and dance all the day long.

Make up for the bad times with some good times;

we’ve seen enough evil to last a lifetime.

Let your servants see what you’re best at—

the ways you rule and bless your children.

And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us,

confirming the work that we do.

Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 90 (The Message)

[Psalm 111]

Hallelujah!

I give thanks to God with everything I’ve got—

Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation.

God’s works are so great, worth

A lifetime of study—endless enjoyment!

Splendor and beauty mark his craft;

His generosity never gives out.

His miracles are his memorial—

This God of Grace, this God of Love.

He gave food to those who fear him,

He remembered to keep his ancient promise.

He proved to his people that he could do what he said:

Hand them the nations on a platter—a gift!

He manufactures truth and justice;

All his products are guaranteed to last—

Never out-of-date, never obsolete, rust-proof.

All that he makes and does is honest and true:

He paid the ransom for his people,

He ordered his Covenant kept forever.

He’s so personal and holy, worthy of our respect.

The good life begins in the fear of God—

Do that and you’ll know the blessing of God.

His Hallelujah lasts forever!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 111 (The Message)

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Thursday, december 17 of 2020 with Proverbs 17 and Psalm 17, accompanied by Psalm 87 for the 87th day of Autumn, and Psalm 52 for day 352 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

[Psalm 17]

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

[Psalm 87]

A Korah Psalm

He founded Zion on the Holy Mountain—

and oh, how God loves his home!

Loves it far better than all

the homes of Jacob put together!

God’s hometown—oh!

everyone there is talking about you!

I name them off, those among whom I’m famous:

Egypt and Babylon,

also Philistia,

even Tyre, along with Cush.

Word’s getting around; they point them out:

“This one was born again here!”

The word’s getting out on Zion:

“Men and women, right and left,

get born again in her!”

God registers their names in his book:

“This one, this one, and this one—

born again, right here.”

Singers and dancers give credit to Zion:

“All my springs are in you!”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 87 (The Message)

[Psalm 52]

A David Psalm, When Doeg the Edomite Reported to Saul, “David’s at Ahimelech’s House”

Why do you brag of evil, “Big Man”?

God’s mercy carries the day.

You scheme catastrophe;

your tongue cuts razor-sharp,

artisan in lies.

You love evil more than good,

you call black white.

You love malicious gossip,

you foul-mouth.

God will tear you limb from limb,

sweep you up and throw you out,

Pull you up by the roots

from the land of life.

Good people will watch and

worship. They’ll laugh in relief:

“Big Man bet on the wrong horse,

trusted in big money,

made his living from catastrophe.”

And I’m an olive tree,

growing green in God’s house.

I trusted in the generous mercy

of God then and now.

I thank you always

that you went into action.

And I’ll stay right here,

your good name my hope,

in company with your faithful friends.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 52 (The Message)

[Proverbs 17]

Better to gnaw on a bit of dry crust in peace

than to feast in a house full of stress.

A wise servant will be put in charge of a child who behaves badly

and will take a share of the inheritance like one of the family.

Silver is purified in the crucible, gold in the furnace,

but motives of the heart are judged by the Eternal.

Wrongdoers perk up when listening to gossip,

and liars lean in close to hear talk of mischief.

Anyone who makes fun of the poor disparages his Maker,

and those who celebrate another’s misfortune will not escape certain punishment.

Grandchildren are the crowning glory and ultimate delight of old age,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Elegant speech sounds odd when it comes from a fool,

and a lie on the lips of a leader is even more out of place!

A bribe is like an enchanting charm to one who counts on it—

everywhere he looks he sees the illusion of success.

Those who forgive faults foster love,

but those who repeatedly recall them ruin relationships.

A single correction makes a more lasting impression on one who is wise

than a hundred lashes do on a fool.

Evil people are determined to rebel,

and so a merciless messenger will chase them down.

Better to face a mother bear stripped of her cubs

than to encounter a fool caught up in his foolishness.

Those who repay good with evil

bring unrelenting trouble upon their families.

Picking a fight is like leaking water from a crack in a dam,

so walk away from an argument before the outburst.

Both of these deeply offend the Eternal:

one who acquits the guilty and one who condemns the innocent.

Even if fools had the means to obtain wisdom,

they would not be able to benefit from it.

A true friend loves regardless of the situation,

and a real brother exists to share the tough times.

Only a fool shakes hands on a deal

and guarantees repayment of someone else’s loan.

A person who loves sin loves a fight,

and one who builds a grand entrance dares others to tear it down.

Crooked-hearted people never recognize anything good,

and those who distort the truth court disaster.

Having a fool for a child is misery;

there is no joy in parenting a fool.

A joy-filled heart is curative balm,

but a broken spirit hurts all the way to the bone.

A wicked person accepts a bribe under the table

to derail the course of justice.

Those who understand look to wisdom for guidance,

but fools fasten their eyes on some distant horizon.

Foolish children irritate their fathers

and embitter their mothers.

Also know this: It is wrong to penalize those who do what is right

or to lash the noble because of their integrity.

Those with knowledge know when to be quiet,

and those with understanding know how to remain calm.

Even a fool who keeps quiet is considered wise,

for when he keeps his mouth shut, he appears clever.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Voice)