#I know it’s a kids show but I’m praying the depth isn’t lost entirely

[optimal-spark]

Finally continuing ES with season 2 after holding off so long and I’ve spent most of the initial episode just

Animation quality seems lowered in some aspects(mainly with Starscream and others’ faces I can’t put my finger on. It)? Some of the characterization changed is… infuriating. Some of it seems hopeful, but the bulk is just irksome

Starscream’s biggest issue with Megs is suddenly just that he’s a traitor, BD is dumbed down mainly capable of saying “smash”, the bots have no issues fighting on a public highway around people, the Chaos Terran is… just thrashing around punching and kicking and head butting stuff prompting the most outlandish dialogue from BD. “Not all the cons are bad guys, right mom?” To “Decepticons are all evil! It’s even in the name!” Is something I’d heard about but good lord

From the get go the scenes cut abruptly into a new one. Which is so insanely jarring. And it’s really hard to track any of it. It just immediately feels rushed. If it keeps up this way I may just have to drop it and glean vital plot info from others’ summaries. I mainly just wanted to see Prowl, Megs and co 😭

Nightshade at least seems normal, as does Elita. And some of the others

Really hope this improves as it goes on but based on what I’ve heard I’m wary

[fullfiresiren]

beauty of the dawn

jujutsu kaisen

fushiguro toji x reader

The notion of a loving family was something foreign to Fushiguro Toji. Family, to him, was a bitter word -- full of hate and abhorrence. Abandonment and fear were a commonality in his own childhood. But in you, he finds a warmth he didn’t think he deserved – a home he craved, a love that makes him feel safe; full of gentle touches and soft kisses. But he’s scared. He's broken, and angry, and he knows the threat of his family is always lurking close, snapping at his heels, ready to devour. You bring the notion of family to his doorstep, and he spooks. He panics. He can’t let them find you, he can’t and he has to give up the only feeling of warmth he has ever known to do so.

It haunts him forever – leaving behind the only woman he ever loved, and a child he will never know.

word count: 3.8k.

notes: *inhales* ANGST— lmao but really, I live for it. Toji may be a bad person, but I suck dick, not morals, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ bro I fr don’t even know what came over me. This has been like the smallest headcannon for me and somehow it turned into this horribly sad piece, and although Toji is a dick, I also think he is an incredibly complex character that, at the end of it all, was just a desperate father trying to look out for his child. I think he deserves much more than he got, and he kinda gets shat on in this fic lmao I'm so fuCKING SORRY FOR THAT--

warnings: nsfw/18+, angst, hurt no comfort, abandonment, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader

“Take me,” he prays, panting secrets that fall from his lips onto your soft skin; promises of pleasure as he breeds you deep. “Take all of me.”

And you do – over, and over, and over again.

Hilting him to the deepest part of yourself, and holding him close, so close, his breath a hot ghost across your face as he leans his forehead against yours. You keep him there until he is finished, taking his seed like it was sacrament. He gives you everything he has to offer, and only when you have slipped into a light slumber does he pull away.

He never strays far, though, and he cannot stay away for long. You are like sweet honey and warm sunsets; the breathing embodiment of a life he was never before privy to – the promise of something better; a miracle. Far from the cold depravity and sharp pain of his own family, in you, he found only warm touches, and words of tender affection. Toji feels so overwhelmed by the amount of love he has for you, that sometimes it’s unbearable. He feels so happy he could die.

He is not an honest man, by any means. He kills for a vocation -- and enjoys it, too. It’s something he’s good at. It’s an easy way to make money, and it helps him pay for his half of the rent on the meagre apartment you share. It also lets him keep the fridge full, make sure you’re always warm, and that you’re never without. He doesn’t really care about himself or what he has to do – so long as you’re happy.

The weight of his body is always heavy between your thighs, his chest solid, thrusts slow and deep, stretching you, making a perfect fit for himself inside you. He likes drawing it out – each time he takes you. He enjoys seeing you beg for release, relishes the way your tears slide down your flushed cheeks, because he likes being the one to kiss them away, knowing he is the only one who ever makes you feel this good. His name sounds so perfect when it falls from your lips at your height of ecstasy, and the way you take him in has him swearing he can see heaven.

You see a side of him that no one else does, but he’s dark, he’s toxic. The amount of sadness in his soul is challenged only by the sheer force of his anger. He's sure that he wasn’t always like this, but... he can’t really remember a time when he wasn’t. Everyone and everything was his enemy. He’s never really told you much about his family, or his past. His childhood had been dark, you assumed, based on the way he flinched around children, and steered clear of any conversational topics that included them or parental figures.

Toji Fushiguro was untouchable to everyone, and only just tangible to you.

He wants to be able to give you everything. He wants to lay his head on your chest in the depths of the night when he’s feeling lost, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to come home every night, no matter what happens to him throughout the day, and be able to feel the brush of your soft lips; to taste your tongue with his – god – he wants to. But he’s afraid. He’s scared. If he gives you everything... if he shows you who he really is... what happens if you see something you don’t like? Will you pull away from him? Will you cast him out and abandon him – just like his family did? Toji isn’t feeble by any sense of the word, but he thinks that would be the one thing that would break him.

That’s why he’s only let you see glimpses... and only every now and then.

He’s just so miserable when he’s alone. He’s angry at the world, and you’re the only thing that soothes him. The only thing he has ever loved.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror when he comes home, locked away in the too-small bathroom. You hear the keys turning in the lock; a signal of his arrival, and the door to your apartment opens, bringing with it sounds of paper bags crinkling, keys being tossed into their bowl, and huffing exhales as he struggles to kick his heavy boots off.

“Toji?”

“I’m home!” he calls, his voice a deep timbre in his chest, smooth like rich oak.

You follow it, leaving the safe space of your bathroom to find him, and when you pass the threshold into your small kitchen, he’s lifting bags of fresh groceries onto what little counter space you have. The movement carries with it droplets from an October rain that had caught him by surprise on his walk home, ones that hang from the edges of his black hair and drip down onto his damp black shirt.

“Toji,” you repeat, beaming as you bound into your small kitchen. “I have wonderful news!”

He spares you a glance between unpacking vegetables, dark eyes tracing the curve of your face, hands grasping at packets of food that need to be tossed in the fridge, and cans to be stacked in the shelves.

“Hmm?”

He offers you his face, leaning in close, pausing in his task to receive a small blessing of affection from you — a soft kiss against the scar on his lip that has his eyelashes fluttering closed, and then one more fully against yours – always greedy for any love you bestow, always chasing just one more, just once more, just another, my love, just one more...

He continues with his chore, but only when you giggle at the fluttering of kisses he peppers across your face, your jaw, suckling at your neck, your hands against his chest pushing him gently, urging him to finish his task – but not before you give him another deep kiss, all giddiness and mirth swimming in your gaze. He can’t help the deep chuckle that spills from his lips at seeing you so happy.

“Toji,” you begin, and he’s rummaging in the paper bags, brows furrowed because he could have sworn that he bought three carrots, and not two -- “I’m pregnant!”

He stills.

He can sense your beaming smile, almost feels the warmth of it on his cold skin, and it only makes him shiver.

The seconds tick by without any form of reaction, and the atmosphere grows horribly tense. Toji doesn’t look at you, but he can see from his peripheral vision that your smile slips at the same time that your shoulders round and you make yourself smaller, unconsciously closing off. You’re twisting something in your hands, suddenly nervous, and he has a nauseating feeling that settles in his gut, because he knows exactly what it is that you’re holding.

It’s proof.

“Are you... happy?” you ask, and you hate that you have to. It’s like a punch in the gut, and you’re afraid. This was not the reaction you were expecting at all.

“Are you sure?” he doesn’t know why he asks that.

He isn’t looking at you, and he isn’t moving – he’s not even blinking. You feel your hands becoming sweaty as you clutch the positive pregnancy test, mouth dry. A quickly increasing panic creeps over your skin, gripping you by the throat, and you honestly have no idea how to traverse this kind of response to your news. In the bathroom you only practiced scenarios in relation to a beaming, positive reaction.

Which room should we make into the baby’s room? Our baby can always sleep with us, though, and I know they’re definitely going to prefer you – I'm hopeless with kids... but I hope they look like you, Toji – a perfect combination of everything I love about you!

Do you want to pick names out? I hope it’s a girl... but a boy would be wonderful, too! I know the baby will adore you, no matter what! Do you have any names you like? We can name them after someone you love? If it’s a boy, I want to make his middle name yours...

Why didn’t you think he was going to show apprehension or reluctance? Why were you so idiotic to assume this is something he desired when he’s never given you any signs of wanting to start a family? He’s probably feeling entirely overwhelmed – and no wonder – you have no tact about this. Fuck, you’re stupid. You fucking idiot. Pathetic, dumb, worthless--

“Y-yes,” you reply, and your voice is a shadow of its former self. “I took three tests. I have one here--”

“How.”

You flinch a little under the curtness of his words.

“W-what—?”

“How did this happen?”

“Uhm...” your voice sounds so frail when you speak, and you can't help it. He’s making you feel like you’ve committed a horrendous sin. You’ve managed to combine the epitome of affection between the two of you into the creation of what will become a child – a perfect mix of the two of you, and yet, you’re beginning to hate yourself for doing so. You didn’t mean to... it was an accident... “We don’t... you know... use protection... and we... have sex... a lot...”

“I thought you were taking the pill.”

You feel like you want to throw up.

His entire body is unnaturally still, and he’s not looked at you once since you’ve told him. You are pretty sure that the can in his right hand is warping under the violent pressure of his grasp, and you wring your hands around the test nervously, the weight of it somehow heavy against your palms.

“I... don’t take the pill...” you remind, and then as an afterthought, you add, “I’m sorry.”

Words you never thought you would say in relation to this. You never though you would have to apologize in this kind of situation. You exhale a shaky breath, and it seems to bring him back to reality. He sets the can down on the countertop with more force than needed, and you try your best to blink back tears as you ask, “You’re... not happy... are you...?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and it hurts to say – god, it hurts. The words sting when they leave your mouth, like a hard slap against your face, but the ache is not nearly as bad as the way his silence is wounding you. You feel like you’re about to collapse from the amount of pain you have in your heart.

“I need to go somewhere,” is the most he offers you, before he’s turning on his heels and striding past you, leaving the apartment you share.

The noise of the front door slamming shut echoes in your mind long after the sound itself has gone.

He never did come back.

  — — — 5 years later — — —

 In the end, you were blessed with a baby girl, all chubby with round, rosy cheeks. Dark hair and eyes like her father, but soft and gentle like her mother. She was an almost perfect child. She never cried, and she never fussed, content in just being close to her mother. She listened when you spoke, and learned fast, growing just as quick, and you would die for her. She was your blessing; Akemi – the beauty of a new dawn.

You’re sure that he would have loved her more than life itself, but you try not to spare any thoughts his way anymore.

Toji gambles his life away, blowing through anything he earns as quickly as he makes it, drowning himself night after night in heavy alcohol to dampen his senses until they are nothing more than a faint hum in the back of his brain.

With any luck, those things will kill him long before the guilt does.

He fucks faceless women, drunk beyond sense, and when he finishes, he leaves before they sleep.

“Hate me, (y/n),” he sneers, turning sharply to vomit up onto the wet asphalt, breath a shaky exhale as he stumbles into the cold night, thoughts only on you – only ever on you – unaware that he’s crying. “Hate me. I fucking deserve it.”

His face is smeared with bile and tears, and he is so fucking angry -- so desperately sad, and he cries, and cries. He wants to go home. He just wants to go home. He wants to meet her – his darling daughter – he wants to hold her, and kiss her forehead, and tuck her into bed. Fuck everything that he thought – he would have been a great father, he knows it – and you knew it, too. He’s so lost without you, and he wants to lay his head on your chest in the safety of your bedroom, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to feel the brush of your soft lips again; to taste your tongue with his, moan your name into your parted sigh, make you feel him again.

He screams, but it catches in his throat before he can, and he splits his knuckles open when he sends a furious punch against a brick wall.

He can protect you from a lot of things – but not the power of his family. Not that. He’s just one man, and they’re so many. He has a heavenly restriction, and they are all blessed with both innate and inherited techniques, passed down through eons. He knows what they’ll do if they ever found out about you – about the child, and Toji swears on everything he has, that he won’t let them touch you – or her. Even if he won’t be able to. Even if he’ll never be able to hold his daughter, to thank her for being born, to cradle her against his chest and feel her wrap her small fingers against his – he won’t let the Zen’in have her. He won’t.

But that doesn’t mean that he deprives himself from watching over her – or you. Eyes follow the two of you home from her pre-school, singing nursery rhymes to your hearts content, watching as she orders “up, up, mommy!”, squealing happily when you lift her onto your shoulders. He imagines himself in your place; lifting her to higher heights, hearing her giggle a chorus of happy songs as your hand finds his, lips on his scar as you tell him how much you love him.

But he always keeps his distance, dark baseball cap shielding his features, and leaves before you feel someone following you.

It becomes increasingly hard to keep it at that. He starts pushing the boundaries, testing how close he can get. He knows he shouldn’t -- he has no right to – but when she dropped her stuffed toy one time in the supermarket, and you were oblivious to it, he finds himself bending down to grasp the too-soft toy in his calloused hands, dropping it in your basket when your back is turned, and your brows are furrowed as you regard the price difference between her favorite flavor of juice compared to the off-brand ones.

The thrill of being so close, of doing something, anything fatherly, was like a fix – a short relief from the aching despair and loneliness constantly plaguing him, and he finds himself doing it more and more – always pushing, always testing the waters. He even smiled at her once when she caught him staring, and she sent her own toothy grin back at him. His heart soared.

His daughter’s name was Akemi, and he first heard it when it fell from your lips one warm afternoon. He wants to write her name on his heart – right beside yours.

He wants to give her something – a pretty gift, but he doesn’t know what. He was never good at buying presents, and would only ever bring you flowers, since it seemed like something that could never go wrong, and would always bring a bright smile to your face. Flowers would be strange for a child, though. He twists the dainty silver bracelet between his large fingers, thinking bitterly that this was the same way you held the pregnancy test all those years ago. He didn’t really care how much it cost him. He’s sure that the salesman added unnecessary tax and extras to the price just to give himself more commission, but Toji doesn’t care – he just wanted something pretty to give to his daughter.

When he finally sees her enter the park, small hand tugging yours happily, his mind goes empty, and he can’t stop staring. You are as beautiful as ever, and it’s no wonder his daughter is so ethereal when she has you for a mother.

She is perfect, he thinks -- too good for this life -- and even though it’s the worst thing he has ever done, he is reminded that pulling away from you was the only way to save her from his family. It looks like she escaped the curse of inheriting any of his bloodline's techniques, and what’s more so – it seems like she, too, is oblivious to curses; skipping past them as she chases leaves that skit about the dirt path of the park, her teddy in her arms. Toji dips his head down when she draws near the bench he’s sitting on, the brim of his baseball cap keeps his face hidden, and his sadness known only to himself.

“Excuse me?”

He bristles when her voice floats past his ears, so gentle and sweet.

“Hey, mister,” she pokes his knee with her slim finger, so tiny compared to the size of his body, and he jerks at the contact. “Is this yours?”

She’s holding the bracelet in her small hand, the silver glinting in the morning sun, offering it up to him with large eyes, so close to him. At this distance, he can see the true color of her eyes – exactly like his own – and the small freckles that dot her skin. The longer he stares, the more his chest constricts painfully, tightly – he’s finding it hard to breathe, and he exhales suddenly, sharply snatching it away from her.

The force of the movement causes her to stumble a little, tripping over her feet, and before she knows it, the man who was once sitting before her has entirely caught her in his large arms, scooping her up before the ground has a chance to harm her.

She blinks once... twice... swaddled in his arms, sitting against his broad chest, and Toji frantically looks for you, finding you caught up in talking to another mother, too busy to notice. He knows he would scold you for it if he was still in your life, but when his daughter laughs, he snaps his head back to look at her, forgetting what thoughts he had in his mind at the glinting sound of her happiness.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, “You’re fast! Thanks for catching me!”

He doesn’t know what to say – if he should say anything at all. His plan was to give her the bracelet, telling her that it was a late birthday gift from someone that loves her very much, and walking off before she (or you) has the chance to catch on or respond. But now that he’s inches away from her, holding her close as she peers up at him, he’s lost again. He’s lost, and he can’t breathe. He needs you to steady him, but you aren’t here, and he doesn’t know what to do, what should he do, what should he--?

“Where did you get that scar from?” she asks innocently, her large eyes suddenly trained on the mark beside his lips.

“F-from an accident,” he mumbles, “a long time ago.”

“Oh,” she hums, hands splayed against his broad chest, looking around her, swaying her legs absentmindedly. “Wow, you’re really tall! I can see everything from up here!” she exclaims happily, “My mommy’s not as tall as this, so when I sit on her shoulders, I can’t see nearly as much as I can now!”

“Oh,” he mutters, not really knowing what to say, “is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “Mommy’s not as big as you are either.”

At this, he gives a genuine laugh – a sound he hasn’t heard fall from his lips in a long, long time, looking at her with quiet adoration.

“She’s not as fast as you either,” she continues, “you were super-fast!”

“She’s strong in her own ways, though,” he mutters, offering her a soft smile.

“Do you know my mommy?”

He bristles, actively avoiding her gaze. His heart is racing from this much interaction with his daughter, and he’s sure she can feel it under her small palm. It beats for her – if only she knew, and Toji contemplates, for the briefest of seconds, just telling her. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters. He doesn’t have that choice, and he doesn’t deserve it.

“Not really,” he mutters, dipping down slowly to set her footing on solid ground once more.

“She’s really pretty,” the little girl continues, playing with the soft fabric of his t-shirt in a small moment of fondness and familiarity, “and nice – and she makes great food!”

Toji realises only after the fact that his hand had settled on top of her head, and he’s stroking her hair softly, thumb caressing her cheek when he moves to cup her face. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, and Toji is overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions. Pride in you for doing all this by yourself and raising such a wonderful child, shame for abandoning you and his daughter, mirth, anger, warmth, sadness, love--

“Akemi!” you call, seeing her lift her head at the sound of your voice. “This way, honey!”

“Oh, I have to go now! My mommy is calling me!” she perks up, gripping her teddy a little tighter and offering the man a smile. “Bye-bye!”

“W-wait!” he calls, thrusting the gift into her small hands. “This is for you, uh... f-from me...”

She looks down at it, before her whole face lights up, and Toji is suddenly breathless – she looks so much like you when she’s surprised, happiness blossoming over her face the same way it would on yours.

Toji feels a deep-rooted emptiness inside his body when he watches his daughter retreat away from him; a living embodiment of all his failures to you, and yet, as he sees her long, black hair whip out behind her, he realizes something else — she was your promise delivered; a combination of everything good between the two of you, in itself a miracle. He might not be in her life, but he was also partly responsible for creating something so beautiful, so ethereal.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but if he was ever fortunate enough to be granted a second, it would be a miracle; a holy gift.

A blessing that would accompany the beauty of dawn.

[fullmtal]

honestly i have a lot i want to talk about in terms of religion / faith and edward’s views as well as the fine line between atheism and agnosticism which canonly he shows more of the latter and i consider him agnostic as it’s proven especially during satera’s birthing process he considers ‘praying to god’ if it would ‘help’ i’d quote it exactly but i don’t have hands on the volume right now. it’s really fascinating to see him go from being utterly arrogant / full of hubris and believe alchemists as the closest thing to ‘god’. 

yet also declaring in grief that they are not when things don’t go ‘right / according to formula’ or ‘scientifically corrrect’ such as nina and alexander’s death. he may be a kid, but he’s mature far, far, far too early. and that’s another topic haha. ed kind of destroyed the remnants of being a ‘kid’ but that isn’t to say he isn’t incapable of being one. he’s most of the series 15-16.

there’s a lot to unpack and also the scenes in liore isn’t just ‘haha i’m agnostic i’m going to be disrespectful to you and your faith because i’m right and you’re stupid rose lol’ it’s not that? it’s deeper than that. a lot deeper. because rose is talking about the ability of impossible miracles (not like the miracles of childbirth that’s totally different) and edward knows better than anyone that they don’t exist by human hands. he tried that once and it was like spitting on his deceased mother and the end result was in a way, pretty much killing his little brother by his body completely being at the time what he thought was ‘lost’ not what it was -- taken by truth.

to him, for me, and so many other reasons i’ll unpack in a big post sometime among many, many others when i’ve cut my drafts down, is that ed is trying to warn rose. multiple times. but he’s edward, and his voice is coarse and there is that arrogance intermingled with self-loathing probably even more so than that pride that ironically, was not the only thing that inspired  his taboo with his little brother, though edward clearly is the ringleader of that. 

it was grief. he was driven by grief just as much as horrifying hubris. before pride, is the grief of an orphaned oldest son who entirely blames himself. so for him? a lot of this is just. ‘don’t do what i did. don’t do what i did. have common sense, think for yourself etc.‘ honestly i could go on forever and i’ll do a post about this more in-depth my brain is a bit wonky but hoo ed and religion. 

tl;dr: edward is massively critical of religion as a scientist / alchemist and as a person traumatized by putting faith and having his world literally shatter multiple times in the series. what we see most of the debate between rose vs edward is this. edward is being that critical scientist / skeptic whereas rose isn’t thinking for herself at all and believing blindly for want of hope and ignoring all the warning signs, aka she isn’t applying that same skepticism and heavy processing of whether to choose belief or disbelief or most importantly, questioning how she feels and views life, death, grief and what can and not be done. in a way we’re brought back to ed and al who didn’t /know any better/ by meeting her. she is a callback to the tragedy and looming consequence that thankfully, rose does not pay for. that’s why there’s such a seemingly vitriolic impasse between edward and rose until he and alphonse, who also tries, leave liore. 

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | one

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid seokjin is (i’m sorry for always making him so dumb) → words: 10.4K → a/n: i know i say this a lot, but this literally the STUPIDEST thing i’ve ever written in my life. i’ve lost maybe ten braincells per word in this fic, and i’m proud of it gdi!! some of my best jokes are in this mess, and that’s saying a lot considering my whole life is a joke. also: check bio for the chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | one | next • —

When you feel yourself awakening, for a moment, you think you might have been hungover. The usual disembodiment you feel after a night out of drinking is what greets you when the last dredges of sleep start to fade out of your periphery, added with the insatiable urge to piss the equivalent of the volume of the Atlantic Ocean. There are weights over your eyes, you surmise, because there is no way you will be able to open them long enough to see whether you were actually dead.

But of course, you are still subjected to the curse of human curiosity, which allows you to gather enough strength to squint blearily and access your current surroundings.

You are greeted by the sight of unfamiliar overhead lights and sterile white walls. The window just to your left shows the darkened sky, the moon creeping just behind the evergreen trees. Groaning slightly, you push yourself into a sitting position, a sudden wave of vertigo slamming into you like a supernova. As you survey the room some more, you notice the sound of muffled conversation going on behind the nearby sheer curtain, and the smell of antiseptic wafts its way into your nostrils. You’re in the nurse’s office, you realize belatedly, grasping the threadbare sheets of your university’s barebones version of a hospital bed.

You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply as you try to remember the last thing that happened to you.

Yoongi’s dick. The stupid e-mail. The poem. The conspiracy group. Seokjin on a pedestal giving a TedTalk about himself. Yoongi’s dick. Namboob. Fainting in the utility closet. Yoongi’s dick.

The mental gymnastics that your brain is currently undergoing elicits a sound akin to a dying squirrel from your open mouth, and it must have sounded terribly loud and unnerving because the nurse bursts into the room just a few seconds after. The nurse, who must have been an underpaid med student by the looks of the designer purple handbags decorating her sullen cheeks, looks at you with less genuine concern and more acute abhorrence.

In your drowsiness, you don’t realize that your throat had somehow converted into the Sahara desert when you had fainted, so you are just as surprised as the nurse when you start doing a wonderful impersonation of Sadako instead.

“Hoo bwat meh hey?” you articulate, your tongue feeling like an oversized fist trying to work its way from out of your larynx. At the very least, no one can blame you for not trying your best to sound coherent. Seeing your struggle, the apathetic nurse has the decency to reach behind one of the shelves and hand you a cup of water. You grab it from her, gulping the entire thing in one go all while you proceed to not care about the rivulets of water and drool trailing down your chin and onto your crotch.

“Sorry,” you say, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. Perhaps for existing? “I was trying to ask who brought me here.”

The nurse, unsurprisingly, only gives you an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Some gray-haired twink came in with you on his back. Apparently, you fainted in front of him for no reason, and when we checked your vitals, everything seemed to be fine.” She gestures at your ragged form, almost as if she didn’t believe that they hadn’t found anything wrong with you. You are obliged to share her sentiments.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. Just make sure to sleep more and eat. University is tough on kids like you,” she says, turning to leave without another look in your direction. Somehow, you feel insulted even though the nurse hadn’t really done anything to you. Perhaps her lack of concern for your mental wellness and the fact that your newly acquired PTSD after today’s events only warranted “a good night’s sleep” as a form of treatment. Ah, the woes of having zero healthcare. Regardless, you decide to take her up on her advice and head home in hopes of acquiring some semblance of sleep after today’s traumatic episode.

Exiting the clinic, you find that almost no one is left on campus, save for the occasional student on their way to their evening classes. Being at your university during the evening had always been an odd sensation for you, as it reminds you of all the nighttime finals you have had to take in the past. Whenever the sun set and darkness enveloped the campus, it is always a given that you would be able to hear someone shouting obscenities from somewhere in the distance, especially since your university is well-known for the bars and clubs that litter its outskirts. Nonetheless, you hopelessly pray that you won’t pass by any drunk college kids, especially on this Friday night.

Just as you are about to cross the street to get to your bus stop, you notice a familiar face waiting by the entrance of the clinic. You backtrack, staring at the back of her head as she inconspicuously tries to peer into the curtained windows like some sort of pervert. Knowing her, your assumption probably isn’t that far off.

You approach her quietly, carrying your footsteps so that she doesn’t hear you until you place your mouth just beside her ear. Even at this proximity, she is none the wiser to your presence. You blow gently against her neck, whispering, “Sera. What the hell are you doing?”

As expected, she shrieks at you in surprise, almost landing a karate-chop on your face but you are saved by the fact that she had as much hand-eye coordination as a dead man in a coffin. You step back as you watch her slice through the air for another few seconds, her gaze wild before they finally land on your smirking face. Realizing that she had overreacted, she straightens up in a huff, glaring at you with as much annoyance as she can muster (but really, who can stay angry at your cute face for long?)

“Trying to look for that hot doctor again?” You joke, peering inquisitively at her hunched form. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of binoculars behind her back at this point, given by how many times you’ve caught her “observing” potential boyfriends.

“How dare––!” She splutters, ears turning red from your accusation. When she shifts slightly, you notice a black object passing through her hands and trying to covertly slip into her bag. Ah. The binoculars.

“How dare I what? Accuse you of stalking a poor med student who is probably overdosing on Adderall as we speak? Oh, sorry for overstepping my boundaries,” you drawl, grinning at her affronted expression. “Unless, of course, you happened to hear about me fainting this afternoon and you wanted to offer me a ride home? Since you’re such a good friend, after all?

She looks at you, alarmed. “You fainted? When? How?”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned. I could’ve died with the image of Min Yoongi’s penis tattooed under the backs of my eyelids, and my best friend never would’ve known… Who, then, would avenge me and clear my name? Who, then, would take care of my growing collection of scantily clad women figurines––?”

“Did you just say you saw Min Yoongi’s penis? Holy shit!” Sera shrieks, eyes bugging out of their sockets. You are sure everyone within a 5 mile radius must’ve heard her, but you didn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Death always did sound like a great vacation idea, anyway.

“Sure, just scream it out for everyone to hear. Maybe we can get him to come back and do it again so you won’t think I’m crazy,” you mutter, grabbing Sera by the sleeve and tugging her towards the parking lot. “You brought your car, right? Bring me home.”

“Jeez, you drop this major bomb on me as if you were just talking about your cat taking a shit on your bed or something, and now you’re ordering me to bring you home? Cheeky,” Sera huffs, but she lets you drag her regardless.

Luckily, her car is parked relatively close because you honestly don’t know how much longer you can take before your knees give out from under you. It seems that despite the little nap you had at the nurse’s clinic, you hardly feel refreshed at all. All you want is to pass out on your comfortable bed for an indefinite period of time and pray for the demon under your bed to drag you to its depths and skin you alive. Knowing your luck, even the demon wouldn’t be that merciful towards a gremlin like yourself.

Sera begins backing up the car, stealing looks at you as you slowly became one with the car seat. You clench your eyelids shut, hoping that Sera would have the decency to respect your space for now and save the questioning for later. That pipe dream is immediately dashed, however, when she starts speeding down the empty streets and opens her big fucking mouth, her shrill voice reverberating in the small sedan.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me now, young miss! You have an entire weekend to hibernate so crank up that brain of yours for two more minutes and tell me what the fuck happened,” she says, nearly crashing over a trash bin in her haste to interrogate you.

“My brain? What’s that? Pretty sure that old thing disintegrated months ago. I think I shat it out when we had Taco Tuesday that one time in November,” you say, missing the way she snorts back in response. When Sera pinches your side to force you to face forward, your fatigue addled consciousness doesn’t even register the pain until a few seconds later.

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

“That literally took you five seconds to react,” Sera whistles, running over a child’s bike in the process. Neither of you look back to check the damage. “Damn, Min Yoongi’s penis must’ve been hella impressive if you’re this mindfucked. Are the rumors true? He must be packing down there, am I right?”

“Please stop saying the word penis. I’m getting triggered again,” you groan, slapping her lightly. She guffaws loudly, shoulders shaking at your misery.

“Sorry, can’t help being a horny bastard. But seriously, what’s the context? I wasn’t even aware you still talked to him after first year. He was your RA at your freshman dorm, right?”

“I don’t talk to him,” you say. You fidget in your seat, hands twisting and turning on your lap. “I mean. We were never close or anything.”

“Then care to explain how you managed to stand in the presence of Min Yoongi junior and behold his glory? Were you guys about to fuck before you realized his penis probably isn’t going to fit? Or, holy shit… Is he actually fun-sized like the rest of his body is?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally fun-sized!” She gasps, snatching up her phone while you two waited at a stoplight. “Wait ‘til Cassandra hears about this––”

Despite your diminished motor skills, you manage to grab her phone away from her before she can spread any misinformation to the rest of the student body. Min Yoongi’s penis is his business, and consequently, it seems to have become your business as well. Cue existential dread.

“Will you shut up for two seconds and let me explain? No, he is not fun-sized. I will not divulge any more information regarding that subject,” you say. Sera deflates noticeably beside you. “And no, we were not about to fuck. I just happened upon him while he was… in the midst of some recreational activities.”

“Oh, he’s into that type of shit. Understandable,” Sera nods, sagely. You have no idea what her tone might be implying, but honestly at that point you were too scared to ask. “How’d you find him like that, then? Did you hear him tugging his meat and decide to join in? Because honestly, big mood.”

“No!” you exclaim hotly, slapping her once again. “I’m not like your perverted ass! I was just––” You halt in the middle of your sentence, recollections of the past hours swimming through your mind and the fear and anxiety that had taken over you this afternoon starts to consume you once more.

“Hey, you alright? You got pale all of a sudden,” Sera notes, slowing down in her driving as she makes her way to park in front of your apartment. The two of you can see the lights of your crotchety landlord’s living room are still on, and you hope to God that he isn’t peering outside his windows and preparing to call the police on your friend (again).

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” you sigh, staring ahead of you and into the empty street. You don’t know why you’re hesitant to tell her what had happened earlier today. Normally, you would be exploding at the seams right now, weeping in despair at the sorry state of your existence. Then again, you’re not sure if you’re ready to go through the agony of reexperiencing the worst 12 hours of your life. Also, you just wanted to go pass out in your bed and never wake up.

In the end, you decide to tell her. Maybe she could offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. “Okay, so don’t laugh but… You remember the poem that got posted on the CCU Love Letters Facebook page this morning?”

Sera nods, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your palms begin to sweat as hot licks of shame run down your back. You whisper, “Well. Yeah. I’m the author.”

There is a tangible silence inside the car. You’re afraid to look at Sera, dreading what sort of expression might appear on her face. Disdain? Pity? Mirth? Whatever it is, her quietness makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in alarm. You’re about to book it out of her car and make some shitty excuse about needing to feed your goldfish when you hear the locks of the cardoors click shut. You whip your head towards her, eyes widening when you saw the smug look on her face.

Not a good sign. At all.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Miss ‘i’m-never-going-to-date-because-romance-is-dead’ Y/N really the author of the sweetest and most romantic poem of the century?” she singsongs, her smirk growing with each word that leaves her lips.

“Who ever said I was against romance?” You retort, cheeks flushing so hotly that you’re sure there is steam coming out of your ears. Sera cackles loudly, slamming her hand so hard into the car horn that it causes one of the wandering cats to jump up high into the air. You are half concerned when you don’t see the poor cat come back down.

“Oh please! When was the last time you dated anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone the entire time we’ve known each other!”

“We met in freshman year. You didn’t know how I was in high school,” you pout, huffing crossly. “And besides. I write romantic poems sometimes. You’ve read my blog posts.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sera giggles once more, switching her phone on to search for something. When she finds what she is looking for, her eyes light up as she shows you the damned poem that got you into this mess in the first place. “You literally wrote ‘how wonderful is it to find that the dips in your hands look awfully lonely without mine in them?’ and you’re telling me that you wrote that?”

You push the phone away, groaning into your hands when you happen to glance at the number of likes on the post. “Fucking 2000 likes? Really? I’m gonna commit seppuku with your 13-inch dildo, I swear.”

As you let yourself descend into madness once more, you feel Sera’s hand pat your back comfortingly, though you can still hear her stifled giggles. “Okay. To be honest, I kind of knew it was you. No one else can write sappy lovesick bullshit like that and be sincere about it. Who the fuck compares skin to moonlight anymore? Are we in the 16th century?”

“You just said you didn’t believe that I’d write it,” you say. “I need people to not think it’s me. It’s so embarrassing as it is!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think people are gonna think it’s you. There are a bunch of people in our Creative Writing class. It could be anyone,” Sera says, pinching your cheek lightly.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sera hums, her thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. She pauses, chuckling lightly at something. “Though, I must say. You’re incredibly lucky. If you had used your actual e-mail address instead of your… burner one, you would have been found out immediately.”

“Little victories,” you say, wondering if the prepubescent version of yourself would have known that creating xXxteamjacobpuppyloverxXx@gmail.com would eventually save your life 10 years later in the future. Probably not, but you’ll take it all the same. “Will you unlock the doors now, please? I’m gonna sleep the trauma away and hopefully not be alive by Monday, but if I am… then I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Hold on sister,” she says, restraining you back into your seat with her arm. You cough in surprise, shooting a glare back her way as she keeps you away from your bed longer than you would already like. “If you’re the author of the poem… Then can you tell me who the muse of the poem is? And more importantly, is it someone I know?”

Judging by the salacious look on her face, you know it would be a bad idea telling her. Not that you wouldn’t trust Sera with your life, but––actually, you really would not trust her with anything. Now that you think about it, telling Sera would be the equivalent of giving Kim Seokjin full access to your internet search history, and you have enough brain cells in your inventory to know that some things are worse than death.

“Ugh, can we just drop the subject, please? I really don’t want to have an aneurysm inside your car right now. I can see Mr. Park staring at us through his living room window and we both know you can’t afford bail for the third time this year.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” she sighs, relinquishing her hold on you and allowing you to unlock the door. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go! You’re telling me everything when we see each other on Tuesday, understand?”

“I’d rather die, thanks!” You call out, slamming the door shut. “And besides, I’m gonna try to kill the rumors as quickly as possible before someone figures it out.”

“How are you gonna do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to go to each of the guys and explain? Maybe tell them it’s a misunderstanding?” Sera asks, watching you curiously. The very thought of doing that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You gaze downwards at the wet pavement, the feeling of impending doom rapidly becoming familiar.

"That would mean outing myself as the author, so that's definitely a hard pass."

"Suit yourself." Sera shrugs, already beginning to pull away from the driveway. She waves lazily at you, before driving away into the night. You stand outside for a moment longer, sighing deeply as you resign yourself to your new life filled with tomfoolery and bullshittery.

At the very least, there is no where to go but up, right?

[Life Lesson #1: It's important never to test fate with foolish declarations of optimism such as this. It only tempts whatever sadistic force that controls your pathetic human life to do their worst. So of course, it gets worse.]

To your credit, you don't spend your entire weekend wallowing in self-pity and despairing at your current situation. You only spend maybe 90% of it doing just that. The other 10% is used to plan your next plan of action.

Like an idiot, you fill yourself with too much misplaced confidence and Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You think to yourself, "Man! I have the whole weekend to think of something to do! Surely my brain will be able to make some sort of plan by the time Monday comes!"

It is a wonder that you are still somehow standing, in a state that some might say resembles being "alive," with how bad your forward thinking is. As it turns out, the weekend slips past you before you know it, with no more than a seedling of a plan than you did during the peak of your mental breakdown.

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

Monday comes just as surely as the sun rises from the east, which is to say that time continues to pass despite how much you'd be willing to pay for it to stop. You could live with one kidney, right? (Fate is probably more of a vegan, you surmise.)

Even when the world is ending all around you, it seems that your 8AM music composition class will wait for no one. And so, there you are: dragging your feet to what is usually one of your favorite classes, but with the added bonus of death clinging to your elbows. Perhaps your cosplay of a corpse is a bit too convincing, because most passersby are quick to step around you. Honestly, this is probably for the best, as you aren't sure what type of state your human compassion is at the moment, should someone dare disturb your "peace."

But of course, there is always that one idiot who manages to ruin your day––for the sole reason that he exists, much to your disappointment and chagrin. Hell, even his voice is enough to make your hairs bristle from just how he lilts his words ever so slightly. It is an absolute shame that the shortest route to your class is past his hair salon, so you can only imagine the speed at which your blood pressure rises when you hear him say––

“Miss Park, your split ends! Oh my word, Miss Park! Whatever shall we do but snip, snip, snip all those wretches out of your life, just like how I snip up all my haters! Aha, this is your cue to laugh by the way!” Kim Seokjin guffaws, his stupid voice unable to be muted by ten inches of concrete. Through the hair salon’s windowpane, you can see Seokjin’s hands make quick work of an elderly woman’s hair, his eyes in crescent moons with how loud he laughs. You mentally make a sign of the cross for the disaster that will soon befall that poor woman’s head.

Now, normally you would make haste to your class, with head bowed and shoulders hunched in hopes of that fool-mouthed ninny from seeing you and engaging in some of his usual buffoonery. For whatever brain cells he lacked, Seokjin always seems to have the ability to rope you into his many harebrained discussions, with topics ranging from “how often do you think people think of sleeping with me?” to “do you think if plants could dream, would they dream of sleeping with me?”

You know. The works.

As it is, today is not an ordinary day, and encountering Seokjin has only made you recall the distressing events from Friday. From your panic induced haze, you can only remember murky images of him holding court amongst a crowd of people, telling them how he must be the muse of your damned poem. The faint memory fills you with abject horror as you are reminded, not for the first time, how big his terribly well-sculpted mouth can be and how he will stop at nothing to make sure that everyone believes what he wants. (Despite how horrendous he is as an organism of this earth, you would be a fool to call his looks anything but mediocre. But that’s as far as anything worth praising concerns the likes of him.)

Something takes over you in that moment, something animalistic. As if your dumb monkey brain is going “hoo hoo eek eek… must… eliminate… AWOOGA… BIG THREAT…” and your sensible and empathetic sides are consequently forced to lie dormant in the meantime.

Hence how you find yourself bursting through Spick and Spock Hair Salon, with no plan whatsoever. All you can think of is Seokjin hanging from his balls on the school’s flagpole, and honestly you weren’t all that concerned with how Point A was going to reach Point B(alls). But we’ll deal with that later.

“What was that?” Miss Park hums, her hearing aid somewhat short-circuited with the sensory abuse it has already had to undergo. To Seokjin’s credit, his hands do not falter despite your loud entrance; however, that could mostly be explained by how much louder his own voice is in comparison, but that’s just your humble onion.

“––and basically, Miss Park, there is this poor soul out there who must be dying with embarrassment because their love poem has been exposed to the world without their consent! Now, I may be Aphrodite incarnate, but I am also a gentleman, and so I do not condone force of any kind,” Seokjin drawls, incognizant of the world around him. He continues to apply the perm solution on Miss Park’s curls, the precision at how he works almost impressive if not for the fact that he was entirely abhorrent.

“That’s nice, Jinnie, but will you please shut up? I’m two steps away from turning off my hearing aid, you know,” Miss Park says cheerily.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, KIM SEOKJIN! STOP FEEDING LIES TO THE ELDERLY!” You cry, filled with the same type of distress that a young peasant might feel from their first licks of capitalism. Seokjin, the wicked businessman in this terrible analogy, is the one selling his counterfeit goods to the unsuspecting innocent.

Miss Park gasps, turning to Seokjin with betrayal in her eyes. “Oh, I knew it! My perm does make me look older! Just give me the pink highlights like I told you, Jinnie. I saw the youngsters doing it on Facebook,” she says.

Seokjin turns his head towards you in slow-motion, like an ass, and even takes the care to flick his beautifully styled bangs away from his forehead so he can gaze upon you with faux interest. “Oh? Miss Y/N? In my salon? I knew you’d be back here soon enough, especially with those roots… Come, take a seat. Let me bump your sorry 2/10 looking ass to a 2.5/10 at least.”

“If it were not for the laws of this land,” you seethe, cursing him through gritted teeth. You stalk towards him, rolling up your sleeves to show that you mean Business. (Funnily enough, you were wearing a tank top that day.) “I can’t believe you’re even being considered a suspect of the poem’s muse in the first place!”

Seokjin fakes a contemplative look. “Isn’t it because of my moon-like radiance? People have told me that I glow like a newborn babe.”

“You sure have the brains of one,” you retort.

“I heard from my niece that it was because he was an extra in a play as a moon or something,” Miss Park quips helpfully. Seokjin makes an affronted noise, but does not reject her claim.

“You were, like, a prop?” You snicker, forgetting for a moment what you were doing. You watch with wicked fascination as his ears turn red.

“Everyone has to start from somewhere! And so what? I had to hang ten feet in the air with a wedgie the entire time! My battle scars are what make me stronger.” He sniffs, upturned nose and all. You and Miss Park snort, not at all inconspicuously.

He pours the remainder of the solution all over Miss Park’s head and slaps her not-too gently on the back, clasping his hands together gleefully. “Well! That should do the trick. Relax, Miss Park, and let the chemicals do all the talking or whatever.” You take mental note to never come back to his establishment ever again so long as you live.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to save yourself from listening to the avalanche of anger that I’m about to unleash, I would suggest turning off your hearing aid for a moment,” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders, reclining further into her seat and resting her legs on a nearby bench. “Sure. YOLO, as the kids say.”

At her consent, you promptly slap the hearing aid out of her ear so you can scream at Seokjin in relative privacy. Miss Park doesn’t even seem to notice, and this should’ve been an indicator of how fucked up Seokjin’s salon is if she didn’t even seem slightly shocked by your actions. (How could she, when Seokjin literally just dumped fucking chemicals all over her scalp? Isn’t that illegal?)

“I’m going to sensibly reason with you first,” you scream and jab at his chest, being unreasonable.

“Okay, sounds believable,” Seokjin replies, raising a brow. He gestures for you to follow him to where the cashier is supposed to be, except that it is so early in the morning that the other employee that works with him isn’t even in at the moment. You still have yet to know why Seokjin opens the shop at 8AM in the first place.

“Why the hell are you spreading misinformation to random people like that? You know damn well that the poem isn’t about you,” you huff, crossing your arms. Seokjin, the ever-loving twat that he is, matches your pose to mock you. He even juts out his hip the way that you do.

“Of course it’s about me! How could it not be about me? Did you not read the part about how the author looks at the moon and thinks about my skin? Everyone knows that Etude House is dying to have me as their face mask model!”

The prickling urge to strangle him strengthens. “Listen,” you say, teeth gnashing from the effort of keeping yourself from leaping and ending it all. “For once in your life, is it really that hard to believe that the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“Oh, you’re one of those heliocentric believers? Jincentric is where it’s at, Miss Y/N!” He laughs, slapping his knee at the pure hilarity of his joke. He does not pause once at your disdainful visage.

“Fine! Believe what you want! But I need you to stop telling everyone that you’re the muse of that poem. The rumor won’t die if you keep stoking the flame with your inflamed ego.”

Seokjin ponders your words for a second, looking at you with a contemplative stare. He does not speak for so long that you’re almost willing to let yourself hope that he has acquiesced, until––”When have you ever done anything for me?”

You gape at his sudden accusation. “Excuse me? I’ve done a lot for you!”

“Like?”

You pause, racking your brain. “Uh. I haven’t killed you?”

“Fair,” he nods, stroking his chin. “But that won’t be enough to stop me. I love being admired, so fuck you for even assuming that I would stop talking about myself. However, I’ll do it for a price.”

“Price?” You groan, fixing him with a glare. “You know damn well that I’m poor, but name it and I’ll try to pay it as soon as you can.”

Seokjin grins, his pearly whites much too incandescent with how dark his soul is. “Invest in my JiHope t-shirt business. I need, like, $500 left to reach the first goal of my kickstarter.”

You stare at him, completely baffled. Is this dude for real, or is he just a caricature turned to life? “You’re a heathen, do you know that?” you say, disgust oozing from every orifice of your body.

“I am feeling quite heathen-ish today, thanks for noticing,” he replies, somber. “Does that mean you accept my proposal?”

You hate how his voice sounds even the slightest bit optimistic, because that means he really does think you’re as stupid as he is. “Can you be serious for once? And before you say it, don’t fucking pull a dad joke on me and say some shit like ‘how can I be serious if I’m Jin?’ because I will not hesitate to bite two inches off your dick.”

“That would still leave 13-inches, so to be honest I should be thanking you.” He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed of existing in this day and age. “And no, I can’t be serious. It goes against my brand.”

“Your brand of being a fucking menace to society?” you grouse.

“Exactly.”

You are seriously ready to explode, and it isn’t going to be pretty. Lord knows that Seokjin would hate having your guts splattered on his overpriced Gucci slides. “Please, can you just stop talking about the poem? It’s bad enough that the original post is getting hundreds of likes by the hour, and if I know one thing, it’s probably mostly from your own influence.”

With a hundred thousand followers under his belt, it probably isn’t that much of a stretch. As much as he is the spawn of Satan, he is rather popular among your peers. Not that popularity has ever been a good measure of compassion. Case in point:

Seokjin grins, misleadingly angelic. “Aw, are you calling me an influencer? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, glowering at the overly-smug theatre student. You stomp your foot on the ground, pointing a finger in his direction as your nostrils flare in annoyance. Like hell that you’re going to let this shithead make you his bitch! “If you’re not going to do as I say, then I’m going to pester you throughout your entire shift and follow you to class if I have to!”

Big words from such a weak-willed person such as yourself. It does not take you long to realize how fatal of a mistake it is to make such a promise, because you never really stopped to think about the actual logistics of such a stunt (i.e. having to be around Seokjin for longer than your recommended daily dose). You can only imagine what such an experience would entail.

After a 3-hours of watching a buffoon salvaging humanity’s hair-do’s and don’ts (his words not yours), you feel as if his very demonic energy was sucking your life force with a curly straw. You fear that when you close your eyes tonight, you will be haunted by images of his Pacific-wide shoulders and his head tilted back in maniacal laughter as he snips away with less care than a toddler. Well, at least that’s what he appears to be doing, because occasionally you will zone out but then return to the sight of a fairly satisfied customer with glossy looking locks, so perhaps he isn’t as inept as you had imagined.

Your amazement is short-lived, however, when he opens his mouth and the cycle begins anew.

After finishing his last client for the morning, he makes his way to his first class of the day. You are reminded of the fact that you are missing your own morning classes as a result, but you know that you cannot afford to let him off your sight, lest he make a bigger fool of himself (and consequently, make your life a bigger hell than it already is).

You trudge behind him, ensuring that he never strays further than three feet away from you. It’s pretty easy to keep up with him, due to the fact that he always makes a point to pause whenever he sees his own reflection (in windows, shiny surfaces, some poor boy’s bicycle helmet––his narcissism knows no bounds.)

When he finally makes a full stop outside one of the lecture halls, he intentionally sidesteps in front of you. The suddenness of it causes you to bump against his steely back, bruising your nose enough to make you yelp in pain. You’re just about to cuss him out when he turns to face you, uncharacteristically serious.

“Now Y/N, I need you to stay out here in the corridor like a good girl, okay? There’s a strict rule of having no pets allowed,” he coos, making the fatal mistake of trying to stroke your head. He shrieks when your teeth meets his palm, but you are unrepentant.

When you let go, he tries to appear unfazed, blowing you a kiss instead as he saunters off into the lecture hall. Not wanting to disturb the class anyway, you decide to heed his words and squat outside in the hallway, occasionally looking through the small window to glare menacingly at the pink-haired bastard. Despite the holes you wish you were burning into the back of his skull, he remains aloof to your imaginary death ray as he continues to take studious notes of whatever his professor is saying.

On the other hand, his classmates are a different story. They send each other wary looks, wondering why the hell this random person was doing a Jack Torrance impression. When the clock strikes, they all make a beeline for the exit, clearly avoiding looking you in the eye as they speedwalk to their next classes. Seokjin makes it out last, his gait the picture of perfect nonchalance. He has the audacity to look surprised to see you there, like you were an old friend he had not expected to meet until you both reached the pearly gates (or fiery pits, but that’s unimportant right now).

“You’re still here, Miss Golum? Have you been good? I’m honestly surprised that you are as stubborn as I am.” He whistles lowly, shouldering his backpack with a smirk. He walks down the hall towards the exit, not checking to see if you were keeping up or not.

You proceed to bite his penis in half to keep him in place. Okay, not really, but you know… one can dream.

What you actually do is follow him as he heads to the cafeteria, presumably to sustain the mortal body he has chosen to possess. It takes him an agonizing thirty minutes to decide what he wants to eat for lunch, and another thirty minutes to say his extensive list of food products that he will most likely be consuming within the next hour or so. You’ve never seen a fast food worker look so dead before, and you’re sure the poor college student behind the counter had zoned out after Seokjin ordered his tenth happy meal.

As the two of you stand to the side to wait for his order, he turns to you expectantly. “So,” he begins.

“Fa,” you retort, followed by a gasp of shock from the elder.

“Do my ears deceive me? Your first dad joke… And to think, all it took was for you to hang out with me for four hours to initiate you as an apprentice.” He weeps loudly, faking tears in an impressively short amount of time. That doesn’t stop you from kicking him in the shin, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m already dead inside. There’s no soul left for you to consume,” you reply dryly. He tuts, shaking his head.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was just about to ask… As much as I have enjoyed our quality bonding time together––”

“I’ll gladly piss on your grave, don’t forget,” you interject.

“––I was wondering why you’re so adamant to dispel the rumors about the poem? You don’t seem like the type to engage in campus gossip.”

Oh shit. Perhaps there is something more than hot air in that tiny head of his.

You flounder about like a fish for a bit, your mouth opening and closing as you think of an explanation that wouldn’t out yourself in the process. You feel your cheeks reddening, only two seconds away from steam whistling out of your eardrums. Broken stammers are all you can manage as he waits expectantly, but luckily, you don’t have to think of a response when a nearby commotion forces the two of you to back away from each other.

A gaggle of freshmen storm through from out of nowhere, forcing the both of you to be swept away as they all made their way towards a pop-up stand in the middle of the court. Accustomed to the borderline cringey overexcitement of the youngest students in the university, you are quick to dismiss their behavior and decide to search for Seokjin, until you hear one of the little freshmen say something that catches your attention.

"You think the t-shirts are still available? Chaeyeon said the hoodies sold out this morning, so I'm scared that we'll be too late," a young girl says, her hands clutched to her chest as she tries to tiptoe over the crowd to survey the state of the merchants just up ahead.

Her friend pats her back assuringly. "Don't worry. The announcement on the page said they're bringing in the reserve stocks from the backroom, which is probably why everyone's here. We just have to get there first." They proceed to elbow their way through the throng of people, and completely disappear from your view. Where they stood, more people soon took their place until a sizeable swarm has taken over half the area of the floor.

Now, this exchange isn't necessarily a red flag to most people, since many clubs and organizations at your university often sold different types of goods to raise funds for their projects. However, given the circumstances that you have become entrenched in the last few days, you can never be too cautious of innocent utterances such as this.

You take a few steps back, trying your best to see over the heads of the crowd that is steadily growing larger. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to squeeze through sweaty pits and cacophonous teenagers, you are ready to just give up and let it go when the same pair of girls from earlier exit from the side, with numerous folded up shirts in their arms.

You hasten towards them, barely being able to latch onto their shoulders to stop them from escaping. The shorter of the girls squeals in surprise, dropping her prized possessions onto the floor. She turns to you, anger ready to burst forth from her tongue when she looks you in the face. She softens almost immediately, wrath evaporating in the wind. Confused, you're just about to ask her if she knows you from somewhere when her friend cuts you to the chase.

"Oh my God! It's her!" she squeals, reaching for your hand and shaking it so vigorously that you swear you hear your shoulder bones pop out of its socket. The girl who had dropped her shirts just continues to stare at you in awe, her mouth agape as she remains speechless, apparently from your presence alone.

You feel the dread begin to build in the pits of your stomach. "It's me?" you say, pointing to yourself with your free hand.

"Yes! Miss Y/N, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you! We are big fans of your work on the CCU Pen Blog! Your short story about the talking brick wall honestly brought me to tears," she gasps out, eyes twinkling with unrestrained reverence. Judging from the death grip she has on your hand, you can certainly say that this girl isn't lying.

While you are aware of the small following that you've accumulated over the past two years as one of the top contributors in your university's open writing forum, that isn't to say that you have ever met a fan as fervent as the two before you. Still on edge from everything that has been going on, you still can't let your guard down around them.

After a bit of effort on your part, you are finally able to pry yourself away from the girl's tight hold. Coughing lightly into your abused fist, you fix them with a wary glance. They return it with unnervingly excited stares of their own.

"Um. Thank you very much, ladies. I just wanted to ask you about the function going on over there?" you ask, pointing over at the still bustling shop booth. At your query, the girls actually look confused, as if you are the weird one in this interaction.

"You don't know? I thought you of all people should know about the merch sale happening right now," the quieter girl speaks up, bewildered. She bends down to pick up the shirts she had dropped, turning it over to show you the design that you had previously failed to notice. What a terrible mistake you have committed.

(Was the mistake looking at the t-shirt? Was it waking up today? Was it deciding to live after your mother conceived you in the womb? Truly, where does the blame game truly end in this foul existence that you call your own?)

The scream that is elicited from your throat cannot be described as anything from this world, because you are sure everyone in the vicinity might have stopped breathing for a few seconds after hearing it. The macabre quality of your voice even caused the two girls in front of you to flee in fright, leaving you with the wretched t-shirt in your trembling palms.

There, printed on the t-shirt, right in front of your mortal eyes, is an image you would rather that you had not seen even if it meant having to suckle from Kim Seokjin's teets for all eternity.

In all its poorly printed glory, your face is plain as day. Anyone would be able to recognize that it was you: in the middle of chewing what appears to be a whole turkey leg.

There you were, with ketchup dripping down your cheek, sitting just outside the Fine Arts building as you scarfed down the poor piece of poultry because you had been too lazy to cut up into smaller, more refined chunks. Like the fucking caveman that you are, you had held the leg like a police baton, mouth open so wide that you'd think you might have unhinged your jaw to get the entire thing to fit in there.

You think that's all? It gets worse.

Somehow, the perpetrator of this terrible t-shirt just has to make you look even less attractive than humanly possible. Superimposed beside your sauce-stained self is none other than a PNG image of Jeon Jungkook in his prime. With his sleek black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, you are sure that this photo is the same one that everyone on campus had swooned over just a few weeks prior, when he had been chosen to model in an advertisement for some club's fundraising event. He is the picture of quiet confidence, which might make you laugh on any other day, since the boy is anything but that in his day to day life. You only ever interact with him when you see him manning the front desk of the library, and he always has his head bowed over a book, unaware of the stares of his many admirers.

Clearly, the injustice of having a literal god beside your hulk-ish photo is downright cruel, but this optical torment does not stop there.

Underneath the photos of the two of you, there is a short line of text that is honestly the worst part of the entire thing. In bold, sans serif font, it reads “Y/NKOOK SUPPORTERS INITIATIVE” with a copious amount of black heart emojis tacked on. In a smaller, but similarly visible manner, it also reads “The Moon Poem is about them and I will stand on this rock until I die!” There are also numerous 100 and fire emojis scattered around the entire shirt.

It’s terrible. It’s downright despicable. It’s the worst thing to ever grace your vision, and that’s saying something, considering that you’ve met your fair share of delusional graphic designers.

Another scream rips from your throat––more livid, this time.

It is at that moment when you realize that maybe Thanos was right––maybe some people really do deserve to die for the betterment of civilization.

Perhaps the crowd of eagerly waiting customers can sense the heat from your unfathomable anger, because they quickly part like the Red Sea as you stomp over to the front of the lines where you will likely find the perpetrator of this heinous crime.

There is a young boy with droopy eyes standing by the tables of merchandise, his hands quickly counting wads of bills as he jams them haphazardly into his pink Hello Kitty fanny pack. He doesn't even bother looking up when you approach him, still busy with his profits, when you clear your throat to catch his attention.

"Are you the one in charge of this fucking circus?" You snarl, fists itching to come into contact with his cheeks. He hums disinterestedly, zipping up his gaudy fanny pack with a tired sigh.

"No, ma'am. I'm just the hired help," he drawls, turning away from you as he gestures vaguely at the mountains of goods still left for purchase. "Are you interested in something or what? There are still 30 people waiting to buy, so I'd rather you not back up the line please."

At the end of your patience, you admit that perhaps grabbing the poor boy by the collar might have been a bit drastic. Still, you're itching to know who the source of all this madness is, so you don't feel all that guilty when he makes a choking sound from your act of brute force. Despite your strong grip on his windpipe, his dead fish-eyes do not disappear. In fact, he looks exasperated more than anything.

"Listen lady, are you going to buy something or what? Who even the fuck are you?"

You splutter, staring incredulously at the younger. Who the fuck are you? You aren't the type to expect people to know who you are but you can at least expect that the person selling goods with your face on it would know who you are! Like, how the hell does he not know that you were the same person on the damned picket fans and keychains?

"I don't––what the hell––" you stammer, speechless for the first time in a while.

"OWO what's this? Is this a new campus couple shipping booth that just opened? Do you guys sell JiHope versions too?" Just in time to witness your second mental breakdown of the day, Seokjin makes his convenient re-entrance as he sidles up beside you. He has two burgers in hand, one of which he is halfway done eating.

You gape at him. "Did you buy a burger for me?"

Seokjin snorts, stuffing the entire remainder of the sandwich into his unfathomably large mouth. "No, you idiot. They’re both for me," he replies, with surprising coherency despite the dribbles of meat and bread product spilling onto his chin. You swear you can see him unhinge his jaw just the slightest bit.

He bends down to pick up one of the fallen pins from the floor, groaning at the sound of his back cracking. "Oh shit, that hurt!"

Unable to help yourself despite still having a freshman in a chokehold, you quip automatically "Yikes, that sounds like a couple of dinosaur bones creaking. You alright?"

Not missing a beat, Seokjin replies "Nah. I just can’t help having a bad back with how big my dick is."

The young boy taps you on the shoulder, reminding you once more of the situation you are in. "Can you let go? My shift is over so you can interrogate the next dude instead," he drawls, having the audacity to yawn at you.

Taking pity on him, you do as he asks. He straightens up, pulling his rumpled collar down before unclasping the fanny pack from around his waist. Another similarly dead-eyed young boy (who was incredibly tall, much to your chagrin––obnoxiously tall young men ALWAYS had agendas, take Seokjin for example) takes the bag from him. He gives you a short once over, no signs of recognition present in his expression at all. When he sees Seokjin, however, his reaction is a lot more than you expected.

"Oh my God, Seokjin? Holy shit, I'm a big fan!" The new boy gasps, pushing aside a customer in favor of reaching over to shake Seokjin's hand. Ever the slut for praise and appreciation, Seokjin shakes his hands with the ease of a seasoned politician.

"Aren't we all?" he laughs, haughty. The other boy laughs too, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained admiration. You sneer in disgust at the hearts visibly emanating from his body.

"My name is Soobin, and I just love your performance in last week's production at the Campus Theatre! Would you mind signing my assh––"

"Hold on," you interrupt, glaring daggers at Seokjin. "Did you fucking do this? Did you make this fucking merch booth of me and Jungkook?"

Seokjin frowns, annoyed that you had been impetuous enough to stop this spontaneous meet and greet session between him and his loyal fan. "No, of course not. Who even the fuck is Dungcock, or whatever the hell that dude's name is."

"You fucking dumb piece of shit––" you say, about to bite off his balls for real when your phone begins to ring, saving Seokjin for the time being. You recognize the ringtone to be the one you set for your alarms, and you realize that after all the commotion from this morning, you have forgotten about the tutoring session you are supposed to have with Hoseok today. Since you had cancelled last Friday's session after your spectacular psychotic meltdown, you know that you couldn't possibly skip this one as well.

Shutting your phone off, you groan, fixing Seokjin with your most solemn gaze. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I have to go tutor Hoseok soon, and I've already skipped all my classes today by trying to convince your imbecilic ass to be empathetic for once in your miserable life so I'm begging you for the last time––please stop spreading the rumors about the poem," you finish, tears welling up as you finally register the fatigue weighing down your bones. It's only Monday, and you can't wait for the sweet release of death.

Seokjin is silent the entire while. The merchandise boy, Soobin, has already left the two of you alone, becoming disinterested the moment you uttered the word "listen." You're breathing heavily, bracing yourself for the inevitable sound of his windshield wiper-esque laughter. To your complete and utter surprise, his mocking does not come.

Instead, he puts down his second burger, stuffing it inside his back pocket (presumably for safekeeping). He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing ketchup sauce on it before levelling you with his gaze. He appears like he is about to acquiesce to your demands.

Is this it? Will you allow yourself to hope? Has Kim Seokjin actually developed compassion during the last 20 seconds of your heartfelt plea? Are you finally going to lay to rest the rumor that he does not actually have a second stomach where his heart should be?

Then, "Okay Y/N. I'll do it."

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

And just like that, hope takes a pounding to the ass (lubelessly) and dies before it even has the chance to break past the peaks of your mountain of crushed dreams.

"––you have to admit that you're the author of the poem and then I'll stop exacerbating the rumors."

You can feel the demon living inside you just itching to climb its way out of your ass and circle its hands around Seokjin's larynx. Hell, you can't say you wouldn't do it yourself. "WHAT? NO!! THAT'S LITERALLY––I'M NOT EVEN––" you scream, shocked and enraged at the same time.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing his perfectly manicured hand on his hip. "Save it, babe. I know you're the author. As annoying and stupid as you are––"

"Hey!"

"––you've always been a pretty good writer and I would recognize your writing style anywhere. Not to say that I read your works religiously or anything, but I mean... I see your writing on the newspapers that I use to pick up my dog's shits, so I guess I read them sometimes," he says, not looking you in the eyes. The tips of his ears are turning red, but you hardly notice his embarrassment when you're more amazed that he even acknowledged your talent in the first place. You guys aren't even friends!

"Wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Just admit you're the author and we're good." Seokjin smirks, patting you lightly on the shoulder.

You frown. "Isn't that counterproductive? I want the rumors to stop, not for them to be related to me."

"Which is a sentiment that I cannot fathom at all, since I crave the attention." He sniffs, glowering at you. "You can imagine the sacrifice I am bestowing upon you by having to relinquish this newfound fame just so your little crush stays hidden."

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

"And since you didn't deny it, I'm assuming that you are the author after all. Besides, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, mostly so I can bully you for writing sickly sweet love poems about yours truly."

"Okay, I'll admit. I am the author. You got me," you grunt, rubbing your temples. "But there is no way in HELL that I wrote Moonlight Sonata for you. I'd rather eat my own intestines than write anything remotely flattering about you."

"That's what they all say," Seokjin says, sighing dreamily. "To be honest, I knew you were the author from the beginning and I just wanted to annoy you until you caved. I didn't think you would be that stressed over the stupid poem enough to follow me around for an entire day. That crush must be embarrassing, huh?"

"It's not!" you exclaim hotly. You clear your throat, forcing the blush around your cheeks to die down. "It's just... It was supposed to be private." Your voice breaks off into a whisper, vulnerability lacing your words.

It's true––the only reason you wanted all of this to be over was because it was never even supposed to have happened in the first place. Your words and stories were always open to the public eye. You gave and you gave and you gave, although that has never been a problem. You loved sharing your thoughts and feelings; it was one of the greatest things about being writer. You enjoyed hearing how people related to your experiences because it made you feel seen, it made you feel known. You were not alone in this journey, and that had made all the difference.

This time, however, you had preferred to go through this alone. Mostly because even you were not sure what it was that you were going through. How were you supposed to share this part of yourself with others when you did not even know what it was that you were feeling? You had poured every inch of your soul onto those pages, and to have yourself completely barren to the world like it was nothing––

That had been catastrophic to you. But at the end of the day, there was nothing you can do except to try and silence it.

Seokjin considers your sad form, watching you until a small secretive smile inches its way on his lips. You scowl, not liking the way he looks like he knows something that you don't.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," Seokjin whistles, winking provokingly. He laughs obnoxiously, not faltering even when you kick him in the sin. "Just that I know you have a crush on me and you're just embarrassed to admit it. Thank God that I'm a great actor, so I guess I'll pretend for your sake."

"You're not my––" you start, before giving up mid-sentence. Was there truly any use to arguing with Seokjin? You'd rather not waste any more saliva than you already have. "Whatever. Believe what you want. All that matters is that you do what I asked you to do."

"Sure thing, Shakespeare," Seokjin scoffs, flicking you lightly on the forehead. "Also, in payment for my services, you are required to watch my next play AND attend at least three of my rehearsals and cheer for me every time I appear in a scene. I require a bouquet of flowers at every appearance."

You're about to argue, (fruitlessly, you might add), when a barrage of buzzes coming from your back pocket stops you in your tracks. You slip out your phone, and you see dozens of texts from a worried Hoseok asking where you are. You reply a quick "otw" to him before focusing back on Seokjin.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll fucking kill you the next time I see you, but... thank you. I know it's hard for you to be kind to anything other than your reflection." You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows. Saying thank you to a troglodyte is harder than it seems. "And thanks for reading my works. We're still not friends or anything, by the way. Hope you remember that."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Seokjin chuckles. "Me? Friends with you? A 10 walking around with a negative 1? Fat chance." He waves goodbye, blowing you an obnoxiously loud kiss before stalking off away from you. The bulge of his smooshed burger has left an unsightly grease stain all over the back of his jeans.

Before you turn to go to the exit, you pass by Soobin who was still busy with customers.  You slip a few bills into his pocket, tiptoeing to whisper into his ear. "Here's twenty bucks. Go kick Seokjin in the balls for me."

When the double doors slam behind you, the beautiful sound of Seokjin's pained howl bids you the cheery farewell that you deserve.

[dailyaudiobible]

05/08/2020 DAB Transcript

1 Samuel 2:22-4:22, John 5:24-47, Psalms 106:1-12, Proverbs 14:30-31

Today is the 8th day of May. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we approach the end of another week. And we’re approaching the end of the first full week of this month and…yeah…we’re continuing to move forward, step-by-step, day by day. This is…this is what we do. What a difference it makes to have this rhythm of life here together around the Global Campfire every day one step forward. So, we…we…we stepped into the book of first Samuel today and we talked about that yesterday but just by way of quick reminder, Samuel was the final judge of Israel. So, we read the book of Judges and now we are in first Samuel. He served…he's just a little kid right now where we are in the story, but he served as Israel's final judge bringing them into the age or era of the monarchy where they had a king and we’ll get to that over the coming days. Right now, we're just getting to meet everybody. Hannah Samuel's mother was childless, and she prayed at Shiloh before the Lord and Shiloh was the capital, like the tabernacle was permanently situated there for almost 4 centuries long, long, long before there was ever a temple in Jerusalem. And, so, she's there and she's praying and God gives her a son and she dedicates him to God and his name is Samuel and she brings him back to Shiloh and gives him to the priest, Eli, who is beginning to train him along with his own…his own children, his own sons Hophni and Phinehas and there is a stark contrast between Eli’s biological sons and the one that he's kind of raising up in the temple Samuel and we’ll see that more and more clearly as the days go by. So, we’re reading from the New Living translation this week. Today, first Samuel chapter 2 verse 22 through 4 verse 22.

Commentary:

Okay. So, Jesus is having a conversation with the religious leaders and they’re questioning Him and wanting to know about His authority, all these things that…that are common as we moved our way through the Gospels Jesus is having this discussion with them and He tells them some very poignant things today. And one of the things that He…He says is just…man…like it goes right to the heart. At least it goes to my heart when we pass this territory because it's like I'm guilty of the same thing. I've done the same thing for years and yet Jesus is giving immense clarity. So, speaking to these people Jesus says, “you search the Scriptures because you think they give you eternal life, but the Scriptures point to me, yet you refuse to come to me to receive this life.” So, honestly, like if I’m just going back into a part of my story, for me…I’m a Pastor’s son. I grew up around the Bible but before the Daily Audio Bible ever began, I just, you know, realized I’m a mile wide and an inch deep. There is no depth to this faith whatsoever. I’m not even sure its real. And, so, I turned to the Scriptures, as I should have, as we should and I, you know, spent like the next decade giving my all to the study of the Scriptures. And it’s not like I don't give my all to that every day now. I study the Scriptures every day, but what I was looking for was God. Like, what I was looking for was how to understand God and I thought that the more I could know these Scriptures the more I could know God, only to find out the Scriptures are there to point the way to God. They can't become God. The Bible isn't God. And yet, the Pharisees and scribes of the time, they’re studying the Torah, they’re studying the Scriptures of their time, they’re trying to obey them as best as they can, they're trying to control everybody else to get them to do the same thing and they had become God. Like the plot of the story had been lost and we’ve mentioned this many times in the Old Testament. We’re like there’s the spirit of the law and the letter of the law. And this is what Jesus is getting at here. That’s when He says, “you search the Scriptures because you think they give you…they give you eternal life, but the Scriptures point to me, yet you refuse to come to me to receive this life.” And then He goes on, “your approval means nothing to me because I know you don't have God's love within you. I came in my Father's name and you rejected me, but if people come around in their own name and…and…and toot their own horn ten you gladly welcome them. No wonder you can't believe. You…you honor each other. You gladly honor each other but you don't care about the honor that comes from the one who is God alone.” And then He goes on, “yet it isn't I who will accuse you before the Father, Moses will accuse you.” So, why is He referring to Moses?” Because they are studying the Mosaic law and trying to flesh it out and…and…and use it to control the people. And Moses teachings for them are the Scriptures. So, He’s basically saying, “the Bible is gonna condemn you because it showed you the way…it told you about me and you still don't believe it.” And that is entirely possible. I mean there are fantastic biblical and cultural scholars who do nothing for a profession outside of studying the times of the Bible and don't believe it. We can know the Bible back-and-forth and not know God. And knowing everything that there is to know or that you can know about someone doesn't mean you're in a relationship with them. Trying to wrestle through that and this particular Scripture was one of the inspiring things about that, you know, led me to write the book Reframe and really explore, “what is…what are we talking about when we’re talking about a relationship with God?” And, so, this leaves us with some things to think about today. Like are…are we studying the Scriptures so that they will draw us deeper into a relationship with God or are we studying the Scriptures to find out what we’re supposed to do? Are we studying the Scriptures and calling that a relationship? And then we just have to think about whether that could work in any other relationship in our lives. If like, say you're married, could you just read about your spouse and call that a relationship or do you have to actually offer yourself completely? Like do you have to open yourself? Do you have to be present and offer your presence in order for a relationship to happen? In so many ways this is what Jesus is telling the religious leaders and they won't listen. Like we know that, but they don't listen, they don't have the eyes to see that Jesus keeps talking about. And stepping into a relationship with Jesus means that, yes, we study the Scriptures. We do this every single day, but the Scriptures will lead us to a leap of faith and that leap of faith will be beyond, it will be into what we don't understand. We are talking about the most-high God after all. But it's not faith if you control it. By definition faith is reaching out for…for what we cannot see but we do perceive. It gives substance to what we hope for and the Bible leads us to understand that reality. So, we have to wonder in our own lives, “what is it that I am calling my relationship with God? Is it doing everything that I think I should do? Is it devoting devotional time each and every day?” These things can be part of it but when we’re studying God and not being with God, then that's not a relationship by any definition. So…so that’s…that gives us some things to think about. But then we can think, “well I've been going about this maybe in the wrong way. And, you know, how…how do I find that…that sweet spot?” Listen, God for sure will take us where we are and lead us forward from that place or this place. He wants to be in a relationship with us, one that we are intertwined in, one that we collaborate in, one…one that we do life together in. We’ve been reading the stories of the Bible and God will not give up. Like, if we if we have learned anything so far, He won't stop. He might get exasperated. He might punish even. But He will not give up. He will not stop coming. So, it's not like we gotta figure this out and get ready. It's that we gotta take a leap of faith and believe, which is the message of Jesus. Or let me just…let me just use the words of Jesus instead of my own words. Let me just read from our reading in the Gospel of John. “The father who sent Me has testified about Me Himself. You have never heard His voice or seen him face-to-face and you do not have His message in your hearts because you do not believe Me, the One He sent to you.” So, you see, we can become all the scholars that we want and still not know God and we can have no scholarly training and leap into His arms and have a relationship. Right now, what I desire more than anything is to just be in His lap instead of in the laboratory trying to figure Him out. I have found that it is a whole lot easier to figure out somebody that you know than it is trying to study somebody at a distance.

Prayer:

Father, that is our desire. It's built into us. We long for You. Life pulls us toward You. We can't do it without You although we try all the time. Ironically, You want this. You want us even more. You were willing to come for us and give Your life for us. You want this relationship and yet we muddy it up with all kinds of things all the time. When, no matter what, it all comes back to a leap of faith. And, so, Holy Spirit, strengthen our faith that we might walk in Your will and Your ways, that we might live in a dynamic, always on, never off relationship with You. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, and that makes it home base for us around the Global Campfire. So, being aware of that is good and I try to mention it just about every day so that we’re aware of it because that's where you take the journey deeper.

Now if you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can do all these things from within the app, it’s the portal into community. So…so, just be aware and explore.

Explore the Community section. The Prayer Wall lives there. It lives within the app as well. That's always happening. People are always praying at the Prayer Wall or asking for prayer, So, know that that's a resource…that's a place to reach out. And there are many points of connection on social media as well, those are in the community section. So, check that out. Stay connected.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link and it is on the homepage. And I thank you. I thank you for your partnership beyond words. We would not be here if we were not throwing some logs on together. So, thank you for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that is your preference, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Diane from Newburgh Indiana this is an infantryman from Georgia. I just wanted to let you know you that you sang a song from Mr. Rogers that was aired on the April 27th podcast. And let me tell you, I was on the way to work as a military and essential employee during the COVID-19 response in Georgia and I just want to let you know that I was listening to that podcast on the way to work on just another one of many groundhog days over the past 45 days where we’re confronted with the need to go into work with so many sheltering at home and so many dealing with the economy as it is and all the stresses that come with that. Anyways, I found my 40-year-old combat arms military self, singing along with you and bawling my eyes out to Mr. Rogers lyrics as I was passing through base security and heading to the joint force headquarters. Now I’ve served overseas in combat in Afghanistan and I’ve been employed in response operations at home from Hurricane Katrina to COVID-19 and I’ve not felt this appreciated for my service in spite of all the overtures so as such until your simple musical tribute which resonated with my childhood. And I just wanted to say thank you from a soldier of war to a soldier of faith.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible this is Debbie in Texas, it’s Sunday, May 3rd. This is my first time calling in. I’ve been listening since January. I think my story is so much like everyone else’s. Just so appreciative of Brian and his ministry and his family’s ministry to reach out to all of us. I can’t remember everyone’s names as I’m trying to recall this and record this and I’m nervous. So, I pray for all of you along with the prayer requests and I just ask that maybe you would just also say a prayer for me. Really too much to go into and just not super comfortable anyway saying what’s going on in my life. But anyway, huge changes. So, I thank you. I lift you all up and I hope you all have a great day. Thank you. Bye.

Hi this is May 3rd, and this is Sam and I’m calling from Barcelona Spain and my prayer is for the gentleman that called today regarding his mother in New York being confined with coronavirus. I want to pray for her. And as a coronavirus survivor I know it means to be cooped up in a very small room for 20 days. So, praying for your mother and for your family. Dear Lord, You are the giver of life and the taker of life and You have the whole world in Your hands and under Your control. So, we thank You for those that You provide and grant salvation and healing from this virus. And for those that You do not Father, we ask that You give them comfort, that You give them light, that You give them years to hear Your voice and Your word and Your message of hope and eternal life. And I’m praying for this mother that is having difficulties being confined Lord. And I pray that You send her understanding, that You send her peace, and that You surround her with a great support group that would be able to withstand this time. In the name of the Lord Jesus. Amen.

Fear is not my friend. Fear is not my friend. It is __ worm tongue hissing in my ear pretending to protect me while feeding off my pain. What a sick and twisted codependency. It has left me small and hard and gray. Fear has been my counselor for a long time, but I’ve finally seen through its slithering disguise. I have divorced fear and its poisonous comfort, and I will resist and reject every attempt it makes to worm its way back into my affections. I have a new comforter now the spirit of adoption. Daddy. Daddy, my heart cries and He answers with truth. There is so much joy and beauty ahead Cherry. He isn’t pretending. He sees. He knows. “What if” used to torment me, now what widens my eyes with wonder.

Sweet Elijah from May the 3rd, I just want you to know my love that it is okay to lean on others when you’re feeling struggles and temptations all around you. Satan is like that. He likes to get in and try to trip us up and first he’ll…he’ll make it seem okay and then we need to…when you follow him, he’ll say, “see, God’s not gonna want you now. See, what do you do that for? Now you’re not such a good Christian.” But I want to tell you something, God loves you no matter what. And every time you get a thought or temptation, if you just kind of quickly close your eyes really quick and say, “Lord I can’t handle the situation, can you please help me?” And you know what? Jesus promised in His word that He will do that, that any time we call upon Him He will step in and He will help us, He will give us a way out. So, you just keep praying, you keep coming back here for support, keep reminding us that you need us to pray for you and we certainly will. I know this is a hard time right now. It’s a hard time to be growing up but things will get better because God loves you and He will do everything He can to keep you safe. I’m gonna put you in my prayer book and I’m gonna pray for you every time I pray for my grandchildren and my children. And I just want you to know that you are His precious child, His precious gift. You take care my darling and any time at all you…you call here and tell us what’s going on. This is Paula Living on the Rock standing…

Oh wow…rejoice with me Daily Audio Bible family of God. Thank you for your prayers. Early this morning my third grandchild was born, and mama is doing great. Dada’s doing great. We went and picked up little baby number three’s brothers and brought them home and they stayed the night last night and we were notified via text that all is well. So, thank you for praying. So grateful, so grateful. Please welcome Valentine is his name, into this world. God bless You all. Lord God shower down a blessing upon all the women that have a desire in their heart to be a mother Father God. I pray Lord God that You would bless them in Your favor and grant them this gift in Jesus’ precious and holy name. And bless all the mothers with toddlers and bless all our children Father God of every age. We love them dearly and we are Your children God and we are so grateful. Praise You Lord. Praise You Lord Jesus’ name. Amen. This is Treasured Possession. God bless you.

Good morning been a listener since January 15th, and I’ve needed it so much to just keep my anxiety low and my sadness high and it’s really helped to encourage me. And I finally had to call in. There’s been something on my heart since then and I thank you Walta, Walta the burning bush that will not be devoured for the glory of our God and King a week ago, Saturday on the community prayer talked about generational transference and I’m in the middle of that right now. My son is 19. He was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy when he was six and it’s been very difficult for me to handle but the __ it was more important than, you know, Jesus above anything and here at 19 he’s claiming to be an atheist and agnostic and my heart is broken. And Walta thank you for praying for our children. You mentioned about that we take our kids to church and they watch and do what they see us do. And he’s been at church since he was born and now, he wants to do things his way and God is not a part of that. So, I do pray for that generational transference, that he will connect to Jesus, that God will be an option for him to long, thirst, understand and be in love with Him. So, I’m just thankful that you encourage me to call in. My name is Carrie, his name, his Jared and I pray that God, it has to be the Holy Spirit that’s only going to work in his heart to save him. So, thank you Walta for encouraging me and I pray that everybody will pray for my son. It’s pretty heartbreaking. This is the worst blow then really the diagnosis of muscular dystrophy…

[studiohyyh]

the c̶o̶c̶a̶i̶n̶e̶   crayon dealer pt.?

 “it’s not as scary as you think, it can be fun, really.”

“really?”

“well, minus the realization of a five-hundred-word essay due in two days; which you can solve with grabbing a nice cup of coffee before screaming to yourself in front of the mirror, that’s all.”

the idea of college doesn’t seem to convince jungkook entirely, not when he has cousin namjoon video-calling him every two weeks to show him that everything’s fine when, in reality, everything is all but. honestly, jungkook appreciates the effort; namjoon calling despite his busy schedule, namjoon telling him about joining the book club, namjoon sharing stories about how his life goes in college now with his roommate, who’s part-time music-student, part-time soundcloud celebrity. but of course, to soothe the whirling storm of his beating heart, he went for final advice from cousin seokjin, currently in his senior year, and namjoon’s ancient older brother.

which is, to quote their youngest brother taehyung, “ a big mistake”.

regardless, jungkook is thankful for his cousins. seokjin, for his brutal honesty about college life. namjoon, for his effort of showing him that college life can be better. and taehyung, as an example of what not to do in college, especially when you’re just a freshman.

“so, what’s your room number?”

“um, hold on, i’m in 218, building b.” jungkook says to namjoon on the other side, dropping his last stack of cardboard boxes.

“okay, i’ll visit you later. is it alright if yoongi comes along? he’s been saying he needs a specific smell right now, as a motivation to write his essay. i’m thinking of cardboard.”

“oh, yeah, sure.” this yoongi guy probably gets high easily. “see you later.”

the first day of college is in three days. orientation week starts off with students’ exhibitions, with sports teams and organizations lining up like lemonade stands at the local fair and numerous upperclassmen tailing your butt, waiting for you to fill up club applications.

“stay off the council!” taehyung warned him last summer. jungkook straightened his posture as the older motions him to lean closer. it must be important, since taehyung had put down his glass of orange juice, and taehyung loves orange juice. “most of them are super-strict and if you’re caught partying past midnight on a weekday..” he made a slicing gesture across his neck with a solemn expression, if not grave, before snapping it sideways.

“that’s because you nearly burned the lawn, taehyung.” sitting across them was namjoon, closing his eyes for the umpteenth time of his life thanks to his younger brother’s antics. “i still don’t understand--”

“alcohol is flammable. i’ve done my research on google. i’m completely innocent.”

namjoon looked like he would’ve popped a vein if it weren’t for seokjin's arrival. “just make sure your roommate isn’t too much of a pain.” he said, stirring the straw of his iced coffee. “in freshman year, i ended up with one acapella kid.”

“how did it go?” jungkook asked. seokjin shrugged, though his face seemed sullen. “oh, man, kept him up all night!” taehyung winked, making finger guns.

“let’s just say i would’ve slept at taehyung’s burning lawn if offered.”

“you’re such a drama queen, i’m surprised no theater kid has never publicly begged you to star in a role.”

“not to worry.” jungkook whispers to himself, content with the fact that he won’t wind up with someone unknown. a reservation for room 217 and 218 has been made under the name of jeon jungkook and park jimin, taehyung’s high-school classmate and lifelong best friend, and jungkook’s acquaintance from summer camp.

it’s going to be a great year, he reassures himself. he and jimin are going to apply for the track team together. taehyung has connections for parties he doesn’t know existed. he has his band of crackhead cousins at college. everything is going to be just fine.

“yes, hoseok. i’m at 217 if you ever need me.”

you can say someone’s looking super excited to see someone, other than you, that is.

as soon as he exits his own room to take a quick peek at what would be jimin’s room, jungkook’s eyebrows did a perfect illustration of how the trigonometric graph of y = cos x would look like. did jimin undergo a complete makeover after his exchange trip to germany?

“uh, hoseok, i’ll call you back.” you say to your phone before glancing back at the boy with the mustard-colored hoodie in front of you. “sorry to ruin your day, you’re of room 218?”

the person in question blinks a few times instead of answering. this is probably why you should’ve taken your eye medication regularly, jungkook. “j--jimin?” he meekly asks, half praying that this is just a prank his cousins decided to play upon him.

“who the hell is jimin?” you retort. “and what are you doing here, jeon jungkook?”

alright. if this is supposed to be a mean prank, it’s a hideous, diabolical one that involves an enemy from elementary school.

standing in front of jungkook is you. you from elementary, specifically from 3rd all the way to 7th grade. your hair might be different, and you might be taller, and unfortunately, more fashionable than the last time he’d seen you. but jungkook vowed he would never forget the eyes of a school thief.

“i’m supposed to be asking that.” jungkook replies, after regaining his composure. of all people, why you? the sight of even your backpack tingles his memory of his favored item that has been regrettably snatched from his hands. “you here to steal another thing of mine?”

your eyes dilated at the mention of that. “i didn’t steal it.” you hiss. “stop feeding lies into your childhood fantasy. i was never that jealous of your goddamn possession, yet you’re still spiteful after all this time. besides, i thought i don’t have to share an indoor bathroom with anyone..?”

“yeah, you don’t.” jungkook points accusingly. “because i’ll be sharing it with jimin.”

“look, i just finished moving in, and i bet you just did, too. i’m not in the mood to argue right now, so let’s settle this quick.”

“i agree. i’m going to be civil and help you move your stuff to the next floor. let’s go.” jungkook rolls the sleeves of his hoodie, but that doesn’t last too long. “whoa, who says i’m moving anywhere?” you stop him dead in his tracks. “if anything, you’ve got the wrong room.”

jungkook rolls his eyes. “no way. my neighbor is jimin, i’m sharing a bathroom with him. you have no neighbor, or whatsoever. you don't belong here.”

“why don’t we ask that person? pretty sure she’s the RA?” you point to a figure with a blue t-shirt and headphones at the end of the hallway, shuffling throughout her clipboard frantically. jungkook squints for a moment, before almost breaking into a sprint.

“dude!” you run to catch up with him. “are you that desperate not to share a room with me?”

“no, i’m just imagining how i would end up in a track team with my roommate, jimin,” he grunts, emphasis on what jimin’s status is to the both of you.

“hi, something i can help you with?” the RA asks, a faint smile across her lips, though both of you know better judging by the creases of her shirt and unruliness of her hair. “hi, yeah, i’m jeon jungkook of room 218. i’m supposed to be sharing an indoor bathroom with park jimin?”

“of course. and you?” the RA gestures to you to continue. “______, i’m assigned to room 217. i’m informed that i will have no roommate for this semester?”

the RA flips through a few papers before smiling delightfully. okay, maybe this nightmare will end quicker than expected, jungkook thinks. “i’m sorry,” what even--”park jimin have already moved to our campus yesterday, but unfortunately this area has particularly stimulated his allergy. his parents requested for residential relocation.” the RA throws you a sympathetic smile. “he’s been transferred to building d, which stands for don’t worry!” she ends with a laugh.

it would’ve been funny if jungkook isn’t so caught up with the fact that he’s lost a potential golden roommate.

“and me?” you ask, though somehow, you’ve already known the answer.

“i apologize for the fact that we often cause miscommunications in residential relocations. every new academic year is always hectic, after all.” she goes through her papers for the second time, a burst of shrill laughter trailed before ending in a disappointed sigh. “i’m sorry to say that we have no more empty rooms in this building.”

what is that? right, the sound of your heart plunging to the depths of your niches. you’re sure it would be ending in an echo audible enough for even jungkook to hear.

“unless you have a problem with your current room?” she offers you.

allergy, you force a smile. fictional bugs, jungkook would like to add. nonexistent odor, you come up with an idea. the wrong roommate, jungkook concludes.

“that’s all. thanks.” jungkook says halfheartedly, the freshman spirit long gone at the disappearance of the thought of track-teammates him and jimin being roommates, and the fact that now he probably has to share a hairdryer with you.

“hey, hoseok, we have a situation.” you say dejectedly to your phone. “i’ve been assigned a roommate who's accused me of stealing his goddamned. red. crayon.”

[spnbaby-67]

My Life Is Over, or Is It?

In light of the announcement on Friday, my heart died along with a lot of others who are so into this show and can’t live without out it. I tried so hard to be positive, but I can’t. especially knowing they knew at Nashcon, I love this show and those boys and I understand I really really do, but I would love to know what made that ultimate decision. Anyways, please do not post on any other sites without my say so, this was edited by my new spn sister Jamie, she’s amazing. she’s not on tubmlr so i can’t link her. but i can credit her. She’s amazing and I love ya girl. 

Warnings: none really other that self doubt and very sad need Kleenex. Supernatural ending, life ending. be warned. 

No pairing. My feelings are my own way when i heard the news. 

I was sitting at work, just a normal day at the desk I call home, when my Instagram notification dinged. The slight dinging alerted me that something new was happening in my social life. Sure, my social life isn’t really all that social. In fact, if not for the internet it would probably be non-existent. But, it’s a social life nonetheless, and something new was about to make itself known. With anticipation I opened the window to my life, eager to see what it held. I was pretty sure I knew what it held. There’s one thing that keeps me going in my life. One constant I can always rely on.

I’m not sure when things took a change. Others call it an obsession. I call it life. It all started with a show, a dad on a hunting trip, sons desperate to find him. And, in total shock, complete disbelief, it’s all coming to an end, crashing down around the life I’ve built. The hunting will soon be over. The family separated yet built upon a new foundation. Sure, the Winchesters found their dad, then lost him in a new way. But through their adventures they have taught me how to live through my own adventurous life.

I don’t let just anyone interrupt my day. I keep my notifications set to certain people. Only a select few have the ability to enter something new into my life and cause me to always drop what I am doing to listen, to respect. However, today March 22, 2019, I wished I didn’t. This is a day I will remember forever. The day my greatest fear would slap me in the face. A day that would signal the fear of my entire family leaving on a hunting trip. The fear that they wouldn’t return and I would have no one to turn to. No one to help me search for the survivors.

My heart has literally stopped, I’m sure of it. I’m sure my entire world has just stopped. There, in front of me, in my hands, I am holding my entire world. To some it may seem crazy. ‘It’s only a show.’ ‘They’re only fictional characters.’ ‘They don’t care about you the way you care about them.’ Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. Right now. At this moment. As I hold Jensen, Jared and Misha in my hands, none of that matters. I hear the words. I hear them say Supernatural will end after the 15th season. I see the tears they hold back. The cracking of their voices ring deep in my ears.

My breath caught in my throat causing me to choke. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I blurted out loud, in shock, and everyone took notice.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks. She’s the girl who normally sits beside me at my makeshift home called work.

I swallowed hard. Swallowed again. Again. My voice locked in my throat. The lump forming bigger and bigger. Unable to respond until the lump was pushed away, my voice stuttering back into existence. “Su-Supernatural is ending n-next y-year.” Tears fell from my eyes uncontrollably, like someone had left the water faucet on.

“Hey!” She placed her arm around my shoulders and cradled me. How could she have possibly known how desperately I needed to be comforted? “It’s going to be ok. I know it’s your whole life that you feel is ending, but it’s not. Besides, they will still be around.”

I smiled at her the best I could. Did she truly understand how I felt? Could she possibly understand what it feels like to be told your world is crumbling around you? I shook the thoughts from my head. It’s just another day, right? Another day that I have to push through. Another day that life kicked me down. A mother day I have to finish before I can allow myself to crumble with the words. I quickly agreed to agree, didn’t matter if I was agreeing to the truth or not. It only mattered that I agreed to not shatter at work.

I tried my best to finish work for the day, not like I really had a choice. I was stuck, forced to endure the cracking of my soul alone while surrounded by so many.The only light in this darkness was the looming fact I only had an hour left of acting. An hour to pretend everything was okay. An hour to pretend I was okay. An hour to pretend the bombshell wasn’t just dropped. An hour before I could return to the solitude of my bed. An hour before I could darken the world out. An hour before I could shatter into pieces beside my heart.

The all too familiar darkness took over. The darkness I had fought so hard to overcome. The darkness that had been hidden by the light. The darkness I didn’t see creeping in. It was back and had taken control. With silent tears, I allowed the darkness to join the drops that formed on my pillow and lull me to sleep. Not that it really mattered, I couldn’t function anyways. An all too familiar feeling had crushed my heart, taken over my soul. I secretly prayed to whatever god may still be out there, I prayed for morning to never come. I prayed for the darkness to swallow me whole. I prayed for the pain, the heartache to end. I prayed for a final ending. I prayed for my season 15 to come, to take me down the road so far, tail lights exiting the scene forever.

My family doesn’t understand, they never have. I’m not even sure why I expect them to.  I can’t even explain why this show was so important to me. I can’t comprehend with a clear head how I’ve made the decision to allow such simplicity to control my thoughts. I can’t describe the reasons I join them at conventions or spend hard earned money on merchandise. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I’ve created memories. Memories that will stay with me forever. Memories that could never be replaced. Memories that I only have the chance to gain because I made the decision to allow something so simple, yet so complex, change my life forever. I allowed it to do more than change me, I allowed it to save me.

I sit and think about that. It seems like the only thing I can do anymore. Sit. Sit and think. Think of how much my life is going to change. Think about how much my life has changed. A wise man once said “Family don’t end with blood.” I never understood those words. Not really. I never understood how anyone who wasn’t blood could ever be family. I never understood how much I would want that to be true. I never understood how much I would long for the truth in those simple words. I never understood, not until someone who would never share my blood spoke those words, and meant it.

They meant it! He meant it. She meant it. My family meant it. Not my blood relatives. They would never understand. They would never understand how a friend could become family. They could never understand how a stranger could touch my life in ways they never could. They could never understand how the ones on the other side of the screen I held so tightly just hours before could be more than strangers. More than friends. How they could be family. MY FAMILY.

A smile creeps on my face. It’s not bright enough to light the darkness that surrounds me. It’s not large enough to reach my eyes. But it’s a smile and it’s a start. I sit and think about how lucky I am. How much I am loved. I feel grateful for the family I’ve created. The family I’ve found. The family I’ve helped form. I feel a twinge of love as I remember that I’ve had the chance to meet my family. I’ve had the chance to hold them, embrace them in my arms, and thank them for all they’ve done.

I’ve been given the opportunity to tell my story. I’ve been given the satisfaction of being heard. I’ve been given shoulders to cry on and opened ears to listen. I’ve been given hearts that understand, not just with the words they say, but instead they understand with the hearts they carry safely inside their chests. I’ve held strong for others, and in turn I’ve had others hold strong for me. I’ve been given the ultimate gift of knowledge. Knowledge of what true love, true happiness, true family is.

It’s a gift not to be taken lightly. A gift that some never receive. The smile deepened, spreading to the depths of my chest. With this family I must go on. I must keep fighting to hold onto what has been given. I fight, not alone, but with my family. Together, we strive to push through. We strive to continue our lives even as an important piece of it comes to an end. We fight together to remember the lessons we have been taught. We fight to hold onto the love and caring hearts we have found through our heros. We fight to remember that some angels walk among us, wearing a blue tie and trench coat. We fight to remember to always give back to the community. We fight to remember to always care for others. We fight to remember that everyone has a story and we don’t always know it. We fight to remember we are not alone. We fight to remember to always keep fighting.

As I sit here in the lighted darkness,I remember the words I was told. I remember life isn’t over. I remember.

“You are beautiful, you are strong, and you are powerful in ways that you may not understand now, but eventually you will. Stay strong sweetheart, we’ll always be there for you.”  

Those are the words that mean the most. Those are the words that were put into my life when needed the most. Those are the words that could only be spoken by Jensen and Jared. I’m not sure why, I wish I was able to explain it to even myself, but I can’t. And I realize as I sit here. that’s okay. The reasoning isn’t what matters. What matters is that when no one else could reach me, when no other words would matter, they were there to reach in and pull me from my own self destruction.

Those are the memories I hold onto when I’m feeling low. Those are the words that pull me from the all consuming darkness. I only wish those words could pull me through right now. I wish they could wipe away the tears. Wipe away the pain. I wonder how I  can even begin to be strong or live through knowing they are hurting just as much or worse than we are. I wonder how a family can contain such devastation. I wonder how to hold on. But I made a promise to them, and I will do my best to hang in there. Until I see you again Jensen and Jared, you will both be in my heart forever. We will all forever be family. I love you both so much. Love me.

@mirandaaustin93 @impalaimagining, @percussiongirl2017 @secretlyfurrydragon, @grnsorrow, @waywardnerd67, @racheladams77

[brvckin-blog]

in all forms except physical i can write an intro, know that ( ! ) i’m mikhia, you can call me mikki if you want tho idc lmao, i’m eighteen, and i live my life by the word of park sooyoung. in her name we pray, amen! i’m always tryna come up with some kind of witty intro but LMAO that never happens and probs never will so this is it.......... this is what y’all get! if you wanna plot then read this shit and gimme a mf smash of that heart and i’ll hit you up! or, if you prefer plotting on d.iscord then you can find me over at YUKHEI’S WHITE GIRL LAUGH #5355 just like tell me who you are when i add you!

▶ BASIC INFORMATION

breckin rhee isn’t as innocent as he seems. on the outside they’re just another twenty-one year old junior who’s looking to get through college with a degree in biology, but let me be the first to tell you there’s more than meets the eye. although they were ingrid’s party buddy, they were the one who held her still while she was bound and gagged. hopefully nobody finds out what they did!

▶ BULLET POINT BACKGROUND

the following overview contains triggering topics such as abuse, drug use, manipulation, and murder. if any of these topics make you uncomfortable then please click away as your well being is a lot more important than the background of my character. however, just as an fyi, none of the topics are talked about in depth, just more-so mentioned!

growing up it was just breckin and his dad living in a big, isolated house at the end of a road where no one really cared to get to know one another. he never knew what happened to his mom, but he also never asked. him and his dad didn’t have the kind of relationship for that; him and his dad were never close enough to have personal conversations.

the two of them only spoke a handful of words to each other by the time the boy was ten and had been completely raised by a nanny. but then everything changed when she just didn’t show up one day and his dad decided to play the role of a parent for once. and, just like with his mom, he had no idea what happened to his former parental figure.

he was shit at it (go figure) and constantly yelled at breckin, even pushing him around and smashing his toys just cause he felt like it. he didn’t understand what he had ever done wrong and a part of him thought that this was just how every parent treated their child.

when he was twelve, he ended up finding an old camcorder and instantly fell in love with filming everything around him. it all looked so beautiful through a lens; untainted. but he was young and kids can be dumb. he ended up recording over one of the tapes inside and when his dad found out, he completely lost it.

apparently breckin had taped over an old home video of his mom, one that his dad watched frequently, and it became the catalyst for events that would change his life forever. it was the first time his dad was ever physically abusive towards him.

he doesn’t really have much memory of the event, but he does remember being at the top of the stairs filming before everything went black. he found out later that his dad had pushed him down the stairs, but it was ruled an accident and he was put back into his care after he healed.

things only got worse from there with his dad constantly telling him that he was a monster, that no one would ever love him, and that no one would care if he died. these things clawed their way down his throat and found a home in his lungs until he felt like he could no longer breathe.

as he got older and a little colder, he started fighting back and it ended up just being a big brawl between him and his dad all the time. they would literally beat the shit out of each other multiple times a week until, suddenly, it all stopped when he was sixteen.

his dad remarried and the woman brought in two younger children. then, suddenly, his dad was someone else entirely. it was like the bitter old man had been replaced by the most wholesome being in the world. he acted like a completely different person and it pissed breckin off. but it also inspired him in a way; it changed his outlook on the world around him entirely.

so he changed his personality too, became the picture perfect son who played sports and got good grades. he held up his image well, but the monster his father always told him he was never went away. it just waited under his facade until the perfect time to strike.

it was after his first real girlfriend that he decided he liked hurting people. he liked breaking their hearts because it made him feel like a god. he was the perfect boyfriend, dating girls and boys and anyone that was dumb enough to fall for his tricks. he would make sure that he was all they thought about, that they were sure they were in love with him, and then he would rip the rug right out from under them.

nothing made him happier than watching them cry and beg him not to do this. they looked so ugly and broken and he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. he liked seeing people at their most vulnerable, got off on humiliating them.

it was around that same time that he also got into drugs, cocaine specifically, and it helped to perk him up; it helped to make him not look so dead inside. he was a great actor, but the eyes are the window to the soul and his held nothing inside.

with his new life planned out, breckin made the decision to go to college and major in biology with the hopes of getting into med school and becoming a doctor like his father. in some weird way, it was almost like he wanted to be just like him, to show him that he was only monster because of him.

it was at his high school graduation that he found out what really happened to his mother when she suddenly showed up trying to act like everything was ok. in his mind, he had already come to terms with her death, deciding that his father more than likely killed her. but the truth hurt a whole lot more. she had just left........ left him with a monster who didn’t love him. and, not only that, but she had a whole new family with two children (his half siblings) and one of them was even close to him in age. it enraged him and, so, the next morning he cut the brake line in her car and killed her off permanently. she was dead to him so dead she would stay.

when he left for uni, he constructed a backstory where he was the son of a pastor who graduated as valedictorian and blushed when complimented. none of that was true, but it didn’t matter. everyone would believe him and would never question it so it didn’t matter.

at freshman orientation, he found his first victim and really set everything back into motion. he began dating anyone and everyone before ultimately cheating on them, and breaking their hearts in the worst possible way all while holding up his perfect little persona until the end.

it was a cruel game, but he was able to keep others quiet about who he really was either through blackmail or through them being so humiliated that they left school and moved away.

over the years though as he’s gotten busier and has gotten closer to graduating, he’s really been too exhausted to keep up his facade as much so he’s basically half himself and half good church goin boy lmao!

▶ LIST OF SECRETS 

obviously no one knows about these (unless we’ve plotted something out surrounding them) so keep these to your ooc self beetch! i honestly just wanted to throw ‘em down here because my memory is shit!

breckin plans on going to med school after graduation so, in preparation for becoming a doctor down the road, he will oftentimes practice on willing peers who are looking for a little extra cash.

he has a weird obsession with death but, more specifically, what comes after. it’s something that no one knows the answer to so he has taken it upon himself to try and figure it out. how, you ask? think flatliners. he hooks himself (and other people occasionally) to a machine then injects them with a drug to stop their heart. they die, the two minute countdown begins, then they’re resuscitated. he’s been getting a little too brave lately though and letting himself flatline for longer periods of time.

even though those two things in particular could get him not only kicked out of school, but ruin his chances of getting into med school, there are others that would pretty much bury his entire reputation six feet under. since he was in his early teens, breckin has been living a sort of double life. he pretends to be a nice boy who only has good intentions, but he couldn’t be more opposite. he loves breaking hearts, hurting others, and humiliating them. more often than not, he dates people solely for that.

even though he doesn’t need the money, he loves attention so he started up his very own little artistic porn blog on tumblr (throw it back to when that shit was still allowed). he began when he was a freshman and has accumulated around forty thousand followers in that time. he never shows his face or anything but he posts pretty racy photos and sells pictures, videos, and audio recordings to those that are willing to pay.

breckin has a very packed schedule between studying pre-med, playing sports, and keeping up with all of his other extracurricular activities that he doesn’t find much time to do normal things like sleeping, eating, etc. this has pushed him to find other means to sustain him that mostly include divulging in various drugs of choice.

▶ POTENTIAL PLOT IDEAS

these are just barebone ideas that could and should be expanded on. but, again, they’re only ideas and i’m really open to plotting just about anything? especially if you have smth in particular that you really want filled, please don’t be afraid to come to me about it! all plots are also open to any muse of any gender!

TEAMMATE(S) — breck is really into sports (specifically more aggressive ones) so if your muse plays any such as: football, lacrosse, hockey, etc then hmu! we can do full blown rivals, playful rivals, mates who just help keep each other motivated to do their best, etc.

HALF SIBLING — if you read the background info then you’ll know that breck’s mom pretty much disappeared then showed back up with two new kids who are his half siblings. however, one of them is pretty close to his age so it’d be cool to have them around? especially considering the fact that he ended up killing their mother yikes! even though they obvs don’t know that it could make for some good writing to explore them finding it out in the future!

ROMANTIC(?) — i’m talkin fwb, exes that he’s played, one night stands, etc. considering the fact that his schedule has only gotten busier and busier, he doesn’t really have time to date around like he used to but he still has needs, damn, so essketit!

PARTY BUDDY — breck likes to party a lot and likes to get fucked up so he needs some friends who’ll humor him and who can keep up with all of his wild shenanigans.

DRUG DEALER — with the amount of shit he does (both personally and otherwise) he could keep your character completely funded himself lmao! hes got a lot of money so let his dumbass give it to you!

NEIGHBOR(S) — breck doesn’t live on campus cause fuck that hes too old for it and he hated it anyway so he lives in an apartment which means your muse? could be his neighbor idk this is super vague but we could do a lot with it just trust me!

SECRETS(?) — considering a couple of his secrets are a little out there it’d be kinda cool to have someone in on them. like, with his whole experimenting on people thing and basically killing them then bringing them back to see what they experienced ya....... could be fun literally someone gimme it!

[sturmxundxdrang]

2 0 1 8 ;

so this has been something i’ve done for both 2016 and 2017 (unfortunately can’t find that one), so yeah, a little recap of my year. under read more bc nobody’s interested in a long ass text lol 

So since I can’t find my 2017 post, I’m gonna go from the 2016 and see what I have accomplished from the things I wanted for 2017:

To finally start learning German properly: in 2017 I went to German classes. They did help me a lot, but I had to quit for financial reasons and because I felt like it was slow.

Learn how to play guitar and piano: I did go looking for piano classes, but couldn’t go through with them. More on that below.

Finish my ‘wall collage’: I almost got to finish it! It was actually on my wardrobe’s door, and it was almost complete, but I had to take it down this year when I got a new wardrobe. Fortunately, I had glued the drawings to a sheet of paper, so I still have it.

Finish writing and editing as many books as I can: I did write a lot, I have over 200 poems just from 2017, but I, unfortunately, didn’t do much editing or finished books, haha. 

Watch at least 100 of the movies from my list: I feel like I focused a lot more on TV shows, so that is a no.

Start exercising more: This went as a complete fail, up until November haha.

Do more things by myself: definitely yes, I’ve been growing a lot.

Get a car: I learned that driving stresses me out, but my parents switched to a different car to make it easier for me to drive, so I’m good with that.

Other things from 2017: 

In 2016 I found both witchcraft and Hellenic Polytheism, and I started practicing, but being an ex-Christian, I didn’t talk about it. Out of fear of judgment, out of fear of being wrong and deciding to stop it, a lot of other things. But 2017 was the year I started trusting it more, and the way I felt welcome in this religion, and by my gods, was so warm, that in 2017 I was sure that this was exactly what I was supposed to do. 

I also completed 5 years sober. March 18 was not only my birthday, but also the day I marked 5 years being Straight Edge, something I looked up to achieve ever since I began, back when I was 14 years old and looking up to CM Punk. Back then all I knew was that it was going to be better for me, and inspired by one of my heroes, I claimed. Now I understand the depth of my choice, and how much it helped me as a person. I thank CM Punk for showing me this lifestyle, but I also thank my 14 years old self, that, despite being very young and immature, made a very important choice. 

So, now, we enter 2018. Right from the beginning of January, it was a roller coaster. I ended one of my longest friendships, with a person that had been my best friend since 2011. I'm not getting much into it, because it has ended and there is no use bringing it up, but although it was hard to think about going on without somebody that was very important to me at the time, it ended up being the best choice, and proved itself to be a big improvement to my life. All I have to say is that after the end, I was able to see how toxic it was and that moving on felt like a weight off of my shoulders. 

I think things started well on New Years Eve. We had a small party, only me, my parents and two of our family friends. It was fun, we all talked, laughed, played Just Dance. But a bit before midnight, I put Mehr - Rammstein, to play. It’s one of my favorite songs, and the bridge is my favorite part. It played right when it hit midnight, and we toasted to the New Years Eve right when Till yells ‘Mehr!’. I think that was me starting the year with the right mindset.

My first poem of 2018 was a contrast to everything I used to write. All those 200 poems from 2017? Most about heartache, suffering, about pain. But 2018 started with me writing about true love, about softness and being happy. And gods, was I happy in 2018. I didn’t write much this year, because my writing comes more from pain and as a coping mechanism. I’m slowly learning how to write when I’m happy too, I’ll get there soon. 

If you’ve known me for a while, then you know birthdays were really not my thing. It was usually a day I’d be very depressed, I don’t like getting old, I was too stressed about thinking that another year went by, it was all sorts of bad. One time my mom gave me a surprise birthday party because my ex best friend posted a message on my Facebook wall and talked about knowing I hated my birthdays. Mom invited my friends (a group of about 6-7 people at the time), only 2 showed up. But this year, man, it was different. I had plans to go to the Zoo and then to the Botanic Garden to have a picnic. So we invited a family friend (one that was there during the New Year’s party), and we went. We had a fantastic day together, and then came back to a family BBQ, that was equally as good. It was the first birthday in a LONG time where I felt truly happy.

This part is probably one of the most important, I’d say. I can’t tell when exactly it was, but I know it was around my birthday’s time, but someone set up a Rammstein Discord Server. I joined it, not expecting much, because I’m always inactive in groups like that. But you, see, this person became a very important part of my life, because not long after that, there were her, me, and a few more people joking about setting up a Rammstein cover band. And what started out as only a joke, became one of the most important things for me this year: Roter Himmel. Stephanie, Leah, Karla and I. RH’s first year was a roller coaster too. Members that came and went, some that I wish weren’t even there in the first place, but life is like that, and some that will be missed - yeah, Lily, you. But life happens, and that’s okay <3

This band gave me three amazing friends, that now I consider family, made me even closer to someone that was already one of my best friends, and that will ever be the Paulie to my Richard, as we say, and is giving me the opportunity to work on dreams I’ve had as a kid, and of course, to put my dream of moving to Berlin into an actual plan. I’ve started learning the guitar again because of them, something that I’ve wanted since I was literally 6, but that I put aside for so long. And because of them, I’ll be going to Berlin next year, to finally see the place that I hope to call home in the future. Roter Himmel is now probably one of the biggest part of my life, and I cannot wait to be playing our music in crappy bars in Berlin in a few years. To Steph, Karla and Lee: thank you. 2019 will be Roter Himmel’s year.

Law too, is a big part of my life. Not only because it’s something I really love, but because, of course, that’s what I’m studying. This was my third year, so now I have only 2 and a half before I’m finished. I also got my first job in the field. I’ve been working since I was 13, but moving to something new is scary. And me, having terrible anxiety, you can just imagine. But I got the job, and it turned out to be better than I was expecting: my boss is a great person, my coworkers are sweethearts, and despite it being kinda crazy in there, I’m enjoying being there, and getting to learn every day. More importantly, I’m dealing with my anxiety of talking to new people, or going new places, or y’know, just being with strangers. And, y’know, just working with what I’m studying & what I like gives me a sense of ‘you’re doing good’. 

So, my religion. Like I said, I got started in 2016, improved in 2017, but 2018 has been the year where I really felt my religion. I’ve felt home ever since I got started, like this is what I’m supposed to be doing, like that feeling of coming home, and this year really showed me that, yes, I’m definitely where I’m supposed to be. I finally know what is like to experience a love so pure, that it can bring me to tears. I’ve always felt broken knowing Christianity wasn’t for me, always felt bad that I couldn’t feel what my mom felt for her God, for example. But now I do, now I understand that my mother’s God isn’t mine, and that this love I searched for was there, all my life, I just had to find it. I adore my gods, and I’m thankful for them all day, I’m grateful for them being in my life, I’m grateful for their love. That was also the highlight of my year: knowing they’re there for me.

This year was quite strange too, nothing is made of rose petals, of course. We had a terrible election in Brazil, and I fear for what will come after January 1st. I’m terrified for me, for my family, for my country. My 2 years old cat went missing weeks before my birthday, and still haven’t returned; I know he will tho. Some of the friendships I’ve thought would last me for life ended, or we got distant, but I know some things aren’t meant to last and I’m okay with that now. My grandma, just a few days before me writing this, almost died. She went through a very bad surgery, and I spent the night with my mom, aunt and uncle, at the hospital, praying she’d survive. She did, she’s doing better, she will get better, but that was probably the scariest experience I’ve had this entire year.

Also, I got one more cat. After Sonne went missing, I was awful. My dad found this tiny black kitten lost, and he brought it to me. Asche is probably the exact opposite of Sonne, who was this sassy little boy. Asche is a sweetheart, and is always in the same room as we are. Sonne will be back, I’m certain of that.

Back on friendships, I’m very thankful for the friends I made this year, for the ones that didn’t leave, and in special, my best friend of many years. We had a fall out due to my depression, but our friendship is back just how it used to be, and I’m very grateful for him for putting up with me and being there even when I’m a little shit lol. I’m grateful for Lily, and for how our friendship is strong as ever, for my bandmates, who are always there for me too, and for the friends that put up with me talking about Richard (and Ares @ Steph and Karla lol) all the damn time. 

About the piano thing, my dad got a keyboard, somewhere between mid 2017 and the beginning of 2018 (I’m really bad with dates, so) and I managed to play the first part of Für Elise, and I know it’s fairly simple and easy, but I love Beethoven, and being able to play it within two days of my dad getting that keyboard made me very proud of myself. I ended up not practicing anymore, and my dad’s friend borrowed the keyboard from him. 

2018 was definitely a year of growth for me, about learning, getting better, facing fears, about new beginnings and letting go of things that are not good for me. I cried a lot, but I was happy a lot. I consider it an amazing year, to be quite honest, and I know 2019 will be even better. 

As I did for 2016, here are some things I want to accomplish in 2019:

I hope to have at least intermediate German. I’m almost there, but not yet.

I’ll focus on the guitar, and won’t let my frustration burn me out.

Exercise more and get a better sleep schedule.

Focus more on college, this last semester was very tough.

Do more things I usually wouldn’t, like going out to do something on my own, and hopefully being to drive by myself.

Read & write more, or at least more than I did in 2018.

Watch more movies, strike a few from my list.

Meet more people, go out more.

Be more organized.

Focus on my religion & study more, try to keep a consistent schedule and all that.

Find a hobby that will help me relax, something that I can do without pushing myself too much, because I frustrate myself a lot.

And yeah, those are a few I can remember right now, might add some more in the future. Hopefully, I strike all of those out by the time I’m writing my year review of 2019 haha. It’s gonna be a good year, I can feel that, man.

[lovepirate77]

Sometimes a Disney story isn’t really about Disney. This is one of those stories.

My wife and I go to Disney parks more than most. Obviously we don’t go nearly as often as our love of the parks would suggest, especially compared to other fans with a similar level of devotion, but we go far more than the average married couple in their 30’s who don’t live near the parks. So inevitably when I announce that we’re taking another trip to Disneyland or Walt Disney World I’m always met with the question of “Why?” People are frequently confused as to why we’d choose to fly or drive across the country to visit a crowded, hot, expensive tourist destination we’ve visited many times before. I’ve grown increasingly tired of this question, mostly because people use it to launch into a diatribe against everything Disney, but also because I’ve never felt like I have an answer that satisfactorily explains the depth of feeling I have towards the Disney parks. The cliché of “they make me feel like a kid again” doesn’t hold true for me at all, because the parks and Disney in general mean far more to me as an adult than it ever did as a child (despite loving it all my life). I try to talk up the concept of Disney’s idealism and optimism, but people tend to just dismiss that sort of thing. I try to tell them all of the reasons I want to work for Disney. I point out that the Disney parks offer an experience that is completely unlike anything anywhere else on the planet, the quality of the theming, the high caliber of Disney’s cast members, the level of care that goes into every detail, but most people are only interested in how fast the roller coasters are or whether they serve beer. But after this most recent trip to Disneyland a few weeks ago, I finally find myself with a story that does justice to my lifelong devotion to Disney.

As many readers may know, our son Luke was stillborn back in March. What you may not know is that we went to Disneyland last September with my parents, and the trip doubled as an opportunity to take pregnancy announcement pictures in front of Sleeping Beauty Castle. We got a “First Visit” button for my wife to pin on her belly, and Mickey ears for the whole family to wear, including little ones for my wife to hold over Luke for the pictures. The whole trip was a joy, even if visiting Disneyland while pregnant meant that my wife was uncomfortable, had to pee a lot, and couldn’t ride a lot of rides. It was filled with possibility and anticipation, knowing that this was just the first of many trips for Luke, and I spent it envisioning taking Luke for his first “real” trip in a few years and watching his reactions to all of the Disney magic.

Our pregnancy announcement picture

Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way you dreamed and hoped and prayed and envisioned. Soon after that trip we discovered that Luke had a cleft lip and palate which would require special feeding accommodations and a series of corrective surgeries we began to prepare for, some heart abnormalities that might also require surgery and meant we had to plan our delivery at a different hospital, and a genetic microdeletion that is largely unstudied but which has been tied to a wide variety of learning difficulties and behavioral issues. So the next 6 months were filled with additional stress and worry and extra planning alongside the usual joy, fun, and panic that comes with expecting your first child. And in the end we lost him anyway, and like many whose children are stillborn we’ll never have a clear answer as to why.

But this is not the story of losing our son. I’ve already written that story. In the months after Luke’s death we started planning a grand, two week road trip through California. It had long been on our list of vacations we wanted to do but we’d just never gotten around to it, and when my wife got pregnant with Luke we figured it would get postponed for quite a while. From Tucson to LA to San Francisco back to LA to San Diego and back to Tucson. An added bonus would be a chance to celebrate our 10th anniversary, which was over the summer, and my wife’s birthday. But the question of Disneyland loomed over the trip. There was no way we’d spend all that time in California and pass through LA twice without hitting Disney, but the thought of returning to a place that was so important in the short time we had with Luke was entwined with complex emotions. Still, we knew we would be returning to Disneyland eventually, and there was something to be said for crossing that bridge sooner rather than later.

With Luke’s Bear at Muir Woods

The trip itself turned out to be exactly what we needed. It broke us out of the routine we’d settled into in the months after Luke’s death, giving us new perspective and a breath of fresh air in addition to simply allowing us to have a fantastic time and see amazing things without the responsibilities at home while spending time with just the two of us. (A huge thank you to my parents, one of my best friends, and a pet sitter who watched our home and our bunnies for us while we were away.) We have a bear we call “Luke’s Bear” that we took with us. The bear is the same length that Luke was when he was born, and we got an identical outfit to the one in which we had planned to bring Luke home from the hospital for the bear to wear. We took Luke’s Bear with us on some of our outings, including hiking through Muir Woods, not as a replacement or surrogate for Luke, but as a reminder and a comfort. But eventually the day came when it was time to go to Disneyland.

My wife had come up with a wonderful idea as we planned our trip, for us to take a picture of Luke with us to Disneyland and get a “family picture” with Mickey Mouse. But in the months leading up to the trip I started to worry about every aspect of this plan, even while being fully onboard with it. Despite many trips to the parks, my wife and I have never gotten our picture taken with a character, and I hadn’t personally done it since I was a little kid decades ago. (Goofy made me cry, and we couldn’t figure out who Smee was.) I didn’t know the protocol, what to expect, or how things worked, and anyone who has lost a child knows the need we feel to be fully prepared for every upcoming event and to know of any triggers beforehand. I started researching an aspect of the Disney parks experience that was foreign to me, and I even emailed and tweeted at Disneyland customer service to ask whether there were rules against Mickey Mouse holding our dead son’s picture. I was told that it’s against policy for Mickey to hold any personal objects people bring (which makes sense… you don’t want Mickey dropping your prized possessions thanks to those big, white gloves), but that we were welcome to show him anything we wanted to bring. So I’d mercifully headed off one potential disappointment, but whenever you deal with anything involving your deceased child there’s always the potential for someone to say or do something that can ruin an entire moment/day/week/month.

Getting ready to go to Disneyland that morning was different than any other Disney morning I’ve experienced. There was a shadow of uncertainty hovering over it, not knowing what to expect or how we’d react to my wife’s plan. We got to the park and immediately made our way to the back of the park, where Mickey’s house and meet & greet sits in Toontown. To meet Mickey you first have to wander through his house (which doubles as a queue when lines are especially long), until arrive at the final waiting area. There were only a handful of families in line, thankfully, and we only had to wait for a few minutes before we were ushered in at the back of a set of four families. Mickey cheerfully greeted the group (with a handler and Photopass photographer alongside, of course), and we watched as parents, children, and grandparents hugged Mickey, got their picture taken, and exited out the other side of the room, leaving us for last.

Mickey immediately spotted my wife’s “Happy Birthday” button, and threw his arms up in celebration, while I retrieved Luke’s picture from my bag. I held it up for him to see and explained that “this is our son, Luke, who we lost six months ago, and we brought his picture with us so we could get a family picture with Mickey,” bracing myself for any of the million horrible outcomes I’d imagined for several months. But I was not emotionally prepared for what happened next. Mickey immediately reached out for Luke’s picture, and pulled it into a tight hug. He then held our son’s picture up and looked at him, before kissing it over and over. He then held the picture up and motioned for us to join him as we took the family picture we had wanted. To my surprise, Mickey took Luke’s picture back from us a second time, gesturing to the photographer that he had an idea. He then held Luke’s picture next to his sorcerer’s hat from Fantasia, which sat on a table behind us, as the photographer continued to snap away. He then hugged and kissed Luke’s picture again before handing it gently back to me and then pulling first my wife and then me into long, comforting hugs. We thanked Mickey and his assistants, carefully wrapped up Luke’s picture and returned it to my bag, and headed back out into the Happiest Place on Earth.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

When I say it was one of the most memorable, meaningful, emotional, and impactful moments of my life, I’m sure many people will roll their eyes. Someone wearing a giant mouse head, a photographer, and a handler couldn’t possibly do all of that, could it? But that experience was the moment that lifted the burden of Luke’s death from my shoulders in a way that his memorial service, visits from family and friends, support group discussions, movies, books, or even church had not been able to do. Luke will always weigh on my heart, but it’s now the sad but comforting weight of someone who changed your life and your very soul for the better, rather than the oppressive weight of a tragedy that slowly crushes you. And I struggled for the next week or two to figure out exactly why, but it finally dawned on me. You see…

Mickey Mouse saw our son.

I don’t mean that the mere fact of Mickey seeing Luke’s picture changed things for me, it’s so much more than that. Mickey Mouse saw our son. He didn’t see a dead body, or a memorial picture, or a tragic story, or an uncomfortable topic of conversation, or an unfortunate lesson, or an awkward cloud, or any of the other things, symbols, or circumstances that Luke usually represents to people. Mickey Mouse saw our son. He saw a child to be hugged and kissed, to be loved and honored and remembered of course, but a child worthy of being treated like any other child. Mickey gave Luke’s picture the same pure love and affection and attention he gave to the little boy and girl who had been in line in front of us, while still honoring and memorializing Luke in his own special way.

It was something I didn’t realize had been missing, even and especially from my own perspective. It’s so easy when you lose your child to reduce him or her to something small. He’s a picture, or a memory, or plaque on a wall, or a box on the mantle, or a grave, or a dream, or an angel, or a tattoo, or a piece of jewelry, or a stuffed bear. Since leaving the hospital, I had struggled to look at Luke’s picture. It brought up too many flashbacks, conjured up the worst emotions in me, and was generally not how I wanted to remember my son. I focused on other images and moments and feelings instead, compartmentalizing our son and reducing him to only the parts I wanted to see. But in five minutes a cast member in a Mickey Mouse costume changed my perspective, by seeing Luke not as a small piece of what he was but as a child just as worthy of inclusion as any other. In that moment, though, it wasn’t just a person in a costume. It was Mickey Mouse, the icon, the legacy and creation of Walt Disney, treating Luke with respect and sadness but with the same love and joy he has shown countless children and adults for the last 89 years. In truly seeing Luke, Mickey has allowed me to truly see Luke, without treating him as less than he is or reducing him to whatever aspect of his existence is convenient for me at the moment. I can finally look at Luke’s pictures thanks to Mickey Mouse, and that one encounter among probably thousands Mickey had that day completely changed the flow of my grief and the path of my healing.

The rest of that day and our next at Disneyland were emotional but ultimately joyous and wonderful, much more than they would have been had we not spent time with Mickey. The rest of our trip was equally excellent, and we returned home refreshed and rejuvenated, if perhaps slightly poorer and tired. The entire trip was exactly what we needed. In many ways it was a reset button for our lives, not so we could forget or dismiss Luke or what has happened to us over the last year, but as a way to break out of the cycle of the last few months in order to “keep moving forward” once again. I find my days and my nights easier since returning, and my attitude and emotions are in a far better place than they were.

It was a trip filled with amazing sights and experiences which are burned in my memory, but I keep coming back to Mickey Mouse. It may be unimportant when compared to the actual experience I described above, but I now have an answer to the “why Disney?” question that so often plagues us when we plan a Disney parks trip. Mickey Mouse saw my son, truly saw him, and in doing so helped me to learn to see him as well. It’s the sort of moment that goes beyond words or description, and one that I’ve come to expect from Disney but have never encountered anywhere else. And while every parent who has lost a child must find their own way through the darkness, though they don’t have to do it alone, for me, Mickey Mouse has been one of the defining moments in the life and death of our son Luke. Thanks to that one special day (and the employees, cast members, and guest services people who played a role), I find myself carrying Luke with me with a sense of hope once more.

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, and October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

Mickey Mouse Saw Our Son Sometimes a Disney story isn’t really about Disney. This is one of those stories. My wife and I go to Disney parks more than most.

[edenrelente]

Life Lesson 454

Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself also in the LORD and He shall give you the desires of your heart.” Since it is human nature to battle against self-worship, we are tempted to focus on the latter half of this verse which seems to promise that God will give us whatever our little hearts desire. But realizing the context of Psalm 37:4 will help us better comprehend what it means to delight in the Lord.

Lori grew up attending a church that was big on emotional experiences. Not a Sunday went by that someone didn’t say they had received a “special word from the Lord.” When the music played there were lots of tears, hallelujah shouts and other things that she wasn’t too sure about. During the week the pendulum swung the other way when Lori attended a conservative Christian school with legalistic overtones.

While her church would say their hunger for experiences expressed their delight in the Lord, the message she got from school was, “God is only delighted when you live up to His expectations”. Lori was conflicted and wanted real answers about what it meant to delight herself in the Lord. Maybe you can relate?

True delight in Him causes us to take our sights off of what we want in order to long for what He desires. The command to delight in God appears amidst this list that King David penned in the Psalms as the antidote for his fretting people:

Know the fate of evildoers (Psalm 37:2)

Trust in the Lord (37:3)

Do good (37:3)

Befriend faithfulness (37:3)

Delight yourself in the LORD (37:4)

Commit your way to Him (37:5)

Rest in, and wait patiently for, The Lord (37:7)

So, wow. Right in the middle of fretting over circumstances God wants us to apply all of these principles and somehow delight in Him. That sounds great, but how is one to muster up delight in God when everything around you seems to be going wrong?

The best way to stop fretting is to take your eyes off the circumstances and fix them on Christ who is the true source of a believer’s delight. There are many reasons to delight in the Lord but for now, let’s unpack just five ways to delight Him:

1. Delight in the excellencies of the Lord our God

We are all bent to admire our heroes. Whether it’s an athlete, musician or entertainer, we enjoy following their accomplishments. But God created us with the longing to admire all the wonders of who He is and His excellent greatness. Looking to a person to fill this God-given desire will never bring true delight or satisfaction.

Realize “the god of this world blinds the minds of unbelievers to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God (2 Corinthians 4:4). So, their desire to worship will always turn toward idolizing a person, or belief system, unless the Holy Spirit opens their eyes to the truth. Be humbled to consider Paul’s observation in 1 Corinthians 6:11, “And such were some of you.” (Take a deep breath. Let that sit with you for a moment. Delight in how excellent is God that He opened your eyes to realize your need for a Savior!)

When you delight in the excellencies of God you will come to understand that everything about Him is the answer to your longings. Devote yourself to discovering in the Bible what He reveals about His character and ways and you cannot help but delight in His excellence.

If you spend the rest of your life learning the immeasurable greatness of God, admiration for Jesus will explode in your heart and mind. This will ignite an insatiable desire in youto know more of His excellencies –– resulting in even greater delight and true satisfaction in Him. And nothing –– not even fretful circumstances, will steal away from you this supernatural delight.

Consider this quote from Puritan Preacher Jonathan Edward’s sermon The Excellencies of Christ: “The person of Christ brings together infinite highness and infinite condescension, infinite justice and infinite grace, infinite glory and lowest humility, infinite majesty and transcendent meekness, deepest reverence towards God and equality with God, infinite worthiness of good and greatest patience under suffering evil, exceeding spirit of obedience with supreme dominion over heaven and earth, absolute sovereignty and perfect resignation, self-sufficiency and entire trust and reliance upon God.”

2. Delight in The Lord's presence

The Hebrew word for delight (anag) commands us to find enjoyment in God. The Lord wants us to incline our hearts toward Him –– to lean in to Christ where we will discover unspeakable joy. James 4:8 promises, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” How cool is that? The Creator of heaven and earth is more than willing to draw near to you if you would but lean into His presence through prayer, meditation on Scripture and hearing Him speak to you through His Word.

When I travel to speak at women’s events my husband really misses me. (We are empty-nesters so the house can feel rather lonely.) He texts often while I am away –– which is delightful! Can you imagine how it would hurt our intimacy if I chose to ignore his texts until I returned home from my trip?

In the same way, when you get so busy doing “good things for God” that you regularly ignore the messages He has for you in the Bible, you’ll not be keenly aware of His presence causing your fellowship and delight in Him to be hindered. Consider Martha’s sister Mary who chose the better thing which will not be taken away (see Luke chapter 10).

3. Delight in God’s help

When you hear that God commands you to delight in Him you may be tempted to think, I’d better pull myself up by my religious bootstraps and figure out how to enjoy God. But God does not want you to delight in Him out of duty. Rather, whatever God commands Christians to do, He always provides not only the ability, but also gives us the unction to do it.

Be inspired by this promise found in Philippians 2:13, “For it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.” And be encouraged by the Apostle Paul’s words, “[I am] confident of this very thing that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

If you even want to figure out how to delight in God it’s evidence of His work in you. Isn’t that exciting? And when God gives you the will He also empowers you to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12).

When I realized I didn’t delight in God I asked Him to help me by the power of His indwelling Holy Spirit. And do you know what? God answered that prayer, and He will be faithful to answer yours too. God says, “You have not because you ask not.” Ask and He promises to answer when you pray according to His will because it brings glory to His Son (see James 4:2b & John 14:13-14).

4. Delight our Lord's great love for you

Jesus loves me this I know… Maybe you’ve heard this your whole life so it’s kind of lost its meaning for you. In more than 30 years as a pastor’s wife my husband and I have found that some of the hardest people to reach with the Gospel are those who have grown up in the church, because they take for granted God’s tremendous love for them. Somehow they have the idea, Of course God loves me. I’m entitled to be loved by Him because I’m such a good person and have gone to church all my life.

To be honest, I was one of those kids. Even though God transformed my family when my father came to Christ, as a second generation Christian I was unmoved by the transformation. Growing up in the church and attending Christian schools I was apathetic toward the inexpressible love God had for me –– maybe you can relate?

I knew that Jesus shed His precious blood to cleanse me from my sins. I’d memorized Romans 5:8, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” But the familiarity of the message seemed to move me to apathy. I don’t think I am the only Christian who missed the power of those words while growing up in my Christian bubble.

In Ephesians 3:18-19 the Apostle Paul seemed to be concerned about their understanding of God’s love for them when he prayed that they would be “able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height –– to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with the fullness of God.”

May God answer Paul’s prayer in the lives of believers so that our comprehension of His great love of us will cause our delight in Him to be a beacon of hope to this generation who is in desperate need of a Savior. Amen?

5. Delight in God's mercy and compassion

God’s abundant mercy is something I will never fully comprehend. Because He is merciful we can stand before Him whiter than snow under the cleansing blood of Christ. I don’t know about you but I know I don’t deserve God’s mercy or Christ’s compassion. “Come now and let us reason together,’ Says the Lord, ‘Though your sins are like scarlet they shall be white as snow…” (Isaiah 1:18). I know the shameful woman I would have become without Christ’s saving mercy. And I stand in awe that He would save a sinner such as I. How about you?

Together let’s pray the words of Lamentations 3:22-23. And may it stir in us genuine delight in The Lord: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness.”

A.W. Tozer said, "We pursue God because, and only because, He has first put an urge within us that spurs us to the pursuit (and) when the Holy Spirit shows us God as He is we admire Him to the point of wonder and DELIGHT.” Oh that His Spirit would raise up a generation who so admires God that delighting in Him becomes our insatiable pleasure that far exceeds anything this world has to offer.

[burndownthehousetonight]

((This was a real interesting one, because it stemmed from a tarot RP memes post, and I actually am self-trained in reading tarot cards! This was much more dramatic than our other RPS. I’ll make a post compiling a little timeline of those eventually. But for now, enjoy the next chapter in this little @last-of-my-bloodline RP saga thing!))

“So what are we going to do?”

Manic and Light stood in Light’s bedroom, stances uncomfortable and arms crossed. Light’s being called for an intelligence briefing was completely normal. Light returning with news this serious wasn’t so normal. Hell, it would have been mortifying if they weren’t expecting a child. And it was clear that Light wasn’t so certain what to make of it, either.

“Look, I know I’m no royal here, but waiting around isn’t gonna be an option.” Manic was oddly serious, oddly quiet. “You spent years rebuilding this town, and we’re gonna make sure it stays that way. For everyone’s good.” He looked down at the baby bump, now much more visible. “Especially for both of you.”

Manic looked at the private sheet of information Light had given him, rereading the small set of words furiously circled and marked for attention. “A figure has been spotted within our kingdom that is beyond a shadow of a doubt a high ranking affiliate of the fox king.” “You would think two years after his death, the buggers would have given up this suspicious act,” he said pinching the bridge of his nose. “If these details are true, then we will have to keep an watchful eye on the fox just to be sure…n’ I had hoped to avoid issues with the tentails again.”

Sighing, he sat down on the bed trying to settle down his stress of the latest news. “I don’t know what has drawn them into my lands again, much less how he didn’t get spotted sooner, I just pray it isn’t for darker reasons.” "Just talking as some kid off the streets, that's exactly why they haven't given up," Manic said, sitting down next to him and patting his back. "People don't just forget a war, and they don't just forget their king being killed. I don't want em to be here for bad reasons, but I'm pretty sure..." He didn't need to finish that sentence. He accompanied Light in his sighs, before giving two comforting slaps on the back. "But they don't have their king anymore, dude, and you've got a rebuilt kingdom. They've lost so much of their strength. You're gonna make it, alright?" He looked Light square in the eyes, putting on a smile through his own fear. "You'll be able to handle one or two idiots, no problem." There was some speak of dread in the back of both of their minds, telling them that it wasn't going to be half a simple as they wished... “I’m sure they are up to something, but I have allies that would help me out in the worst cases imaginable, including granny Ragnarok.” He chuckled softly knowing he'd maybe get a scolding from the woman if she showed up again. He then looked to the roof “You know, the odd thing, the one who started the war wasn’t the true enemy. Demise was possessed by some dark entity…being close to my drakestone seemed to clear his head a bit.”

He turned to face Manic. “The true Mad King was someone I thought I could trust. His Identical younger brother Zhola was responsible for more damage in four months, than he ever did in sixteen years…weird, isn’t it?” "Zhola... Zhola..." Manic rubbed his head. "I've heard all kinds of names, but I guess I haven't read anything in depth. I thought you'd have any answers I'd need." He looked away, staring out the window. "I didn't know he- I guess he really attacked you from all sides." As he looked out the window and Light stared at the ceiling, he clutched at Light's hand, his grip much stronger than normal. "So... He just up and turned on you?" He swallowed hard. "You know, when I think I've heard the last awful thing, there's always something else." He laughed out of nervousness. "I mean, I've been backstabbed, but someone doing that and destroying an entire kingdom..." His grip on Light's hand was much stronger than usual as he stared out at the distant buildings. "It's terrifying." “I didn’t find out about the twist in details till a month after the war. Demise had taken to the role of acting as his brother, it was when I found a familiar scar that I came to realize that the details I had thought were the truth were backwards,” Light replied as he chuckled. “He was so terrified I’d attack him for the trickery, but I came to realize the darkness possessing him had vanished, n’ I knew that it was what made him do the things before the change happened.” "So what can we do about this darkness?" The question seemed to shoot out of nowhere. Manic turned to look at their clutched hands. "It's bad enough these guys seem to be planning something, but they're just a pack of idiots without a leader. I've handled worse, but a vague darkness?" He looked up at Light. "Like, your drakestone can ward it off or something, there's gotta be something we can work off of there. Do you- You know how to block this force, right?" But accompanying his hopeful eyes was a look of vague desperation. Just like his reactions when he'd first heard about the pregnancy, he was more saying these things to comfort himself, and he wasn't succeeding. “The darkness only affected the leaders in the tentails territory. If they have a new king, there could be the risk of it coming back. Hopefully it's just a lesser general just looking for trouble.“ Light sighed once more before looking to him. “If we get lucky, this should be a simple fix.” "We have a warning, and we know there's only one kind of person this could affect. You've got time to react, dude." Manic ran his hand along the side of Light's neck, smiling genuinely. "Sounds like we're already pretty lucky." Manic shifted his body so it was turned towards Light. "Hey, you know what my brother always told me? Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. That's all we can really do right now." He gave Light a kiss on the cheek, to try and comfort him. "We can try and find out if there is a new king in the territory, we can get more information on this dude, and we can send out a warning to your people. But for now, let's just hope he's incompotent." He pulled back. "But if we're gonna do all that..." He looked like he was blushing. "I have to make sure I can protect my king. Would you..." He brushed his quills back. "Do you think anyone would mind if I stopped sleeping in the servant's area? I could just sleep a room over, or on the couch over there, but I-" His smile was filled with a desperate hope. "I want to be here for you, if anything happens. Alright, baby?" “If you wish to move closer, I see no problem with it. Having you closer does help ease some nervousness I do have,“ he said as his tail swayed a bit. “I’m sure things will be alright, but if they are not, it would be good to have company close by.” He would see relief wash over Manic. His stiff shoulders softened, his smiled widened. "Thank you," he said, pulling him in close for a hug. As his head rested over Light's shoulder, he opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. "I'm real lucky I ended up with you, mate..." For just a few moments, the dread of the news escaped Manic. It was just him and Light for now, in the fading rays of the dusk sun. "How about I just move my stuff tomorrow? I just wanna cuddle with you, dude. We'll worry about that fox guy tomorrow, let's just forget about him tonight." He pulled away from the hug and looked at Light. "I just wanna have a nice, gentle night. Okay, baby?" Smiling softly he hugged him. “Yeah, I can do that. It's getting dark, so it wouldn’t do us any good to try figuring out today what to do,” he said before he lay down in his bed n’ looked to him, glad he was gonna hang with him a bit as he just worried about if the Foxes had learned he was expecting again. Manic left all of his normal clothes on, not wanting to take anything too far. He curled up against Light, letting Light rest his head against his chest. Manic purred to send comforting vibrations through Light's shaken mind. "Like I said, dude, we can only hope for the best. I'll protect you," he uttered as he kissed the top of his head. "We'll make it through this, no matter what this is." Manic couldn't think of what left to say. The day had been tiring, and he could feel sleep creeping up on him. So he did the most comforting thing he could think of, and started to hum a lullaby for them both. Just a basic calm melody, to help the two safely drift off to sleep. With his ears flicking slightly to the tune, he slowly drifted off to sleep as he slowly settled down n’ started to purr himself once he was comfortable with the company. It was a strange feeling for Manic. He loved slightly dirty environments, incandescent and neon glows with sub-par lodging. He lived for those things. By all accounts, he shouldn't have really enjoyed this castle. It was fancy, but not too fancy. Clean and polished, but not quite luxurious. Hell, he would actually sneak to the ruined parts of the castle and revel in the decayed and destroyed portraits and statues, fine walls and persian rugs. He should have hated this room, but just to lay cuddled up with not just Light, but Light when he was scared, gave a familiar comfort to the strangely uncomfortable room. They slept soundly. ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ "Dude, they're just here to help, I ain't gonna complain." The two had decided to walk and pick up breakfast in the market area to help keep them out of the castle. They needed some way to help calm their nerves, and the lively market was always a welcome distraction. With recent events, an adviser instructed two royal guards to follow the pair wherever they went, even if it was more or less just a long, gentle walk. Light chuckled slightly as he knew the guards well enough that they would respect his privacy if he asked them to, but he was concerned still with the details that one of the fox generals had been spotted the day. It had been on his mind again. “I am not either, so where were we planning to try this time round?” It wasn't just the market district of the town, it was one of the only completed districts of the town after reconstruction efforts. As with most days it was completely packed, but pedestrians were more than willing to move just enough to give the king, his guards, and some green schlub who was tagging along space to move. "Y'all need comfort food, how about we stop at that little bakery stand place?" Manic lead the way towards a large stall run by a sheep couple, brimming with fresh bakery goods of all kinds. Manic normally would have had a hard time choosing, but they finally had some cherry pastries. He couldn't get enough of cherry foods. Manic was quick to make his choices, a small number that was probably more than he should have had for breakfast. He waited for Light to make his decisions, looking at some of the vendor stalls on the opposite side of the street. "Man, that chameleon lady with those really sweet berries is back! You wanna grab some of those, too?" After picking out his pastry, Light looked over n’ nodded. “Can’t hurt to buy a few,” he said paying for them, n’ soon made his way with Manic over to get some berries to add in with their food. Her mobile cart was, as it was whenever she appeared in the market, fully stocked with a wide variety of berries. Many of them normal breeds, as well as a few foreign breeds they couldn't quite identify. She would always refer to them in her native tongue, but they didn't need an English name to enjoy good food. They starter to make their way over to her cart. The north end of the market street exploded. Two buildings on either side of the market square suddenly shattered with loud explosions. Smoke and fire billowed from the points of detonation immediately, painting the buildings and many of the market stalls in shades of red and orange. Large barrels of spices, masses of flower petals, and bags of dried powders immediately swirled into the air, taking countless amounts of money from their stand owners. What started as confusion quickly turned to panic, as the market area erupted into a mass of screams and frantic pedestrians and store owners running for their lives. The two royal guards held back the petrified royal to try and escort him away. All Light could do was look on as the masses of fire spread, and as Manic foolishly ran through the dust to the point of impact. It was a bit difficult for the guards to move their petrified royal, as he had seized up upon the blast. One of the rare few things he never got over was explosives. n’ his entire form was tense n’ fluffed out. One of the guards. to keep him away. had to pick their king up despite his minor protests. The other chose to return to assist the few other people trying to put out the fires that erupted from the explosion “Where is Manic?” Light managed to say, trembling from the shock of the unexpected sound. The guard lifting Light looked around the rushing pedestrians, but there was no sign of Manic anywhere. He called out to the other guard rushing into the heart of the incident, who furiously searched as she assisted with the immediate efforts to prevent further damage. They would not have found Manic, as he was the closest he could get to the detonation point. He couldn't see a thing, and no one could see in. Walls of thick, light grey fog from the destroyed structure blocked everything before him. Occasional patches of color from the other powders floating around only added to the confusion. All he did was feel around on the ground, hoping to find some kind of sign of life. "Ooough..." He grabbed someone's arm by accident. They felt scaly. "D-Dude, are you gonna be alright?" He shuddered out. "What's holding you down?" He felt along the body, finding a large chunk of stone that had fallen onto him. He pushed it aside, helping the individual to their feet. There was a large cracking sound to Manic's side, followed by the sound of shattering, crashing wood. He could hear planks from the newly fallen building hit the ground mere feet from him. "Go on, run!" He said, pushing the individual away from where the planks fell as he ran further towards the sight of the newest disaster. The dust cloud just barely began to lift as Manic rushed towards the new disaster sight, absolutely caked in powders and small scratches. There were people who recalled the young lord’s fears n’ stayed near to keep an eye on him as the other guard, after stetting Light down far from the issues, took off back into the mess to locate Manic, n‘ assist anyone as best he could.

Thankfully, Light's friends had also been in the area as they had jumped into the mess as well to find the hurt n’ downs any flames they found to be a threat to nearby buildings.

Shadow had been the one to locate Manic during his attempts to remove a heavy beam of wood off someone he had been trying to help out. “I donno why the heck you’re not with Light, but I need a little help here, Manic.” Manic was initially shocked to see Shadow, but he didn't have time to think about it. He moved over to help him lift the wood plank trapping a civilian on to the ground. The initial chaos was over surprisingly quickly. The smoke and dust lifted into the air, leaving the streets dusty and mostly empty. Rescue efforts were able to find market goers much more clearly. As rescuers ran from fire to fire, person to person, Manic stood next to Shadow, his whole body covered in various types of dust. "I-I was just trying to- He had guards to help him!" Manic said, trying to defend himself. "People needed- people need help!" A horrible thought entered Manic's head. "Oh god, where's Light? He's alright, isn't he?!" “The guards took him back out of the area of danger,” Shadow said, checking the injured n’ using his abilities to ensure they found all the people. ”It would be wise to return to the young lord… I get the feeling he’s going to need the contact of friends and family.”

The guard that dropped Light off eventually found him. “Sir, the lord is worried about you,” he said, noting also Lights brother. “He seems rather shaken up from this unprecedented event.” "Well..." Manic pushed his quills back. "Yeah, where is he?! Y'all have shadow, you can find anyone!" He scarcely needed an answer. He started the jog back towards the castle, guard in tow. He didn't look back at the rubble of the destroyed area, he's seen enough of it. He did his best to dust his body off as he dashed through the streets far too slowly for his liking. Even his brother wouldn't have been able to run fast enough for this situation. He needed to be back at the castle immediately, and any seconds waster running were seconds he could be using to comfort Light. It wasn't hard to find Light in the castle. The normally quiet halls were now heavily guarded due to the situation, not to mention punctuated with rumors and muted confusion from the various conversations of the castle leaking through doorways. He made a beeline for the master bedroom, to which two guards standing in front begrudgingly let him in. He knew Light would be shaken, but he had no idea just how petrified he would seem. "B-baby, I'm here." He spoke quietly, his fears topping out past terror to a strange anxious serenity. He didn't want to approach Light, so he stood where he was. "You aren't hurt, right? How are you- You holding up well?" He shouldn't have even asked. He clearly wasn't. He glanced back once he heard Manic, though it was obvious he hadn’t calmed down much at all since the initial issue. “I…I’m fine,” he mumbled, looking back to his window, his form still trembling from the episode n’ tensed up still to boot. “It wasn’t that serious I hope.”

The young lord had trouble admitting he was terrified of the explosion that happened, though he knew stress was bad for the baby, he just had too much trouble calming down. "You aren't fine," Manic said, slowly approaching. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Light, placing his hand on Light's once more. "I ain't gonna judge, dude, I'm still really shocked. You can be honest with me, you can trust me." Light's fur was all standing on end. He'd never seen him this scared before. Manic reached his arm around Light, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry I ran off, but I didn't have a choice. People needed help, and now they're getting plenty of help. I'm here for you, okay?" He hugged Light so his head was resting over Manic's shoulder, to give him a place to cry if he needed. "Let it all out." A bit unsure of what to say to Manic he simply hugged him n’ tried to calm himself with little effect.

“You had to do what was needed… I’m not mad,” he mumbled. Tears slid down his muzzle as he buried his face in the crook of Manic’s neck. “T-truth is I’m terrified of explosives n’ the sounds they carry… I’ve had too much of it during the war n’ I’ve seen the terrible effects it can have on lives.” He was still trembling even in Manic’s hold as he still had trouble shaking off the fear that just came up. Thus was the common problem with him. Manic's grip loosened slightly as he mentioned his fears, but quickly pulled him closer soon after. "I had no idea you were still..." He sighed. "I should've known." He rubbed along Light's back, and pressed his lips against his fur. "If I'd known, I would've run to you first thing." There was a new fear cropping in his mind, a fear that he could have somehow stopped Light from experiencing his trauma this intensely. But as he finished those sentences, he couldn't think of what else to say, either. They were both terrified, and nothing he could say would change that much. So he didn't speak. His voice instead purred, turning to a hum, and then a soft, gentle melody he sung near Light's submissive ears. "It's all frigid shade for the autumn raids But we're breathing, moving, Cornered, but the ceasefire's ordered, We're safe, close and quartered No battle lines are drawn" It wasn't the best choice to sing a melody using fighting melodies, but the theme was appropriate. Serenity in the face of terror. That's all they needed. His ears rose up a bit as he listened to him lightly sing the melody to him, n’ true it was a strange choice, but he didn’t care. It did ease his worry n’ his tense form started to settle a little. He still clung to him, yet he had closed his eyes to simply listen n’ hope it could at least help him clear his head of the overdose of panic n’ adrenaline. Light was doing his best to calm down, Manic could tell. But he was quivering and shuddering intensely, and every noise he uttered made it clear he was on the verge of tears. Manic held tight, continuing to coo out gentle melody after gentle melody.  His hands brushed his fur, not just to give him comfort, but to try and brush some of his startled fur down in the vain hope it would help him relax. "Light." Manic's soft speech interrupted his gentle cooing. "Shadow can handle most of the emergency planning that needs to be done. I can help, too, if you're not up for it. We can call a doctor, if you want." He pulled away, and looked Light in the eyes. "We all get it, babe. Your people understand your trauma, they'll be fine. Shadow understands, your kids understand. We all love you, we'll keep you safe." He leaned forward, and kissed his forehead. They’d been dating for months, he was finally ready to say it. "I love you so fucking much, babe." Listening to Manic the whole time, he sighed slightly as he then looked up to him as well. Though his quills were just a wildly set as his feathers, he had started to settle down as his shivering has dropped down. “n’ I love you, Manic,” he said, leaning up to kiss him lightly. It was a strangely brief kiss for them, and despite the mutual love, it was uncharacteristically soft. Manic didn't want to kiss him too hard, or for too long. It didn't need to be. Manic wished it was stronger, of course. He wanted to make out into the night and show his boyfriend that he really did love him, but he couldn't. A short, passionate kiss and a long embrace was all Manic thought he could handle. When they pulled away, they stared for a moment. Were things going to be different? And what was hatching in Manic's mind? His stare wasn't shocked, it was focused, and he could see the corners of his mouth jitter like they always did when he had a joke in mind. Soon, they stopped moving as Manic gave in and smiled smugly. He couldn't help it, humor was therapeutic to him. "Most people say that before getting four months pregnant~" “Maybe true,” he said as his wings folded into a more relaxed position n’ he managed a light chuckle. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I’m normally composed n’ better, but I guess one can’t help themselves in this kind of situation.” "Ssshhh." Manic hushed him as he leaned in to give him another kiss on his forehead. "Don't apologize for your trauma, we're going to be alright. Take as much time as you need. I've dealt with trauma, I know how hard it is. But we'll work it out, no matter what. They did it like this because they wanted to shake you, because they knew they couldn't beat us on a battlefield. You're so much stronger than some screaming pile of lumpsuckers will ever be, we'll handle this one way or another. And I'm gonna make sure you know that." He held Light again, this time kissing his collarbone with a big, goofy smile. "I'll do whatever it takes to see you smile, babe." Hugging Manic once more, he gave a small lighthearted smile as he knew they both had this kind of issue to surpass, even if they maybe different in cause or reason. “Thank you Manic, it means a lot to know I have friends n’ family to help me get through these kinds of days,” he said lightly as he gave a content sigh, feeling his distraught fading finally. "There it is," Manic said as he finally saw Light smile again. He leaned forward, and gave a small, goofy kiss on his cheek. He held Light tightly to give him some kind of physical and psychological support. "I'm here to help, mate. And a little smile isn't going to hurt." Despite that, Manic was having trouble smiling himself. He was clearly going to need an intelligence briefing, not to mention plenty of discussions with advisers and police and many, many people about how to handle this situation. They couldn't cuddle the pain away forever, it was time for Light to be a leader. Although he had one idea that just might make him a little happier. He summoned that night they first met... ...and gave a large, farty kiss right on his shoulder. Ears sprung up as he gave the familiar surprised yip, before the laughter broke out as he had not expected the same trick that got him the first time they encountered each other to affect him the same way twice. “You cheeky devil,” he said trying to rid the blushing he just had crept up on him. He didn’t know why, but it did seem to rid his tension as he was perfectly distracted by his silly partner. “I guess I have another mess to clean thanks to those darned tentails.” "Yeah, there's so much that has to be done," Manic admitted, patting him on the shoulder. "But you've handled much larger catastrophe. You've already got rebuilding efforts going on, people know what they're doing. We can help the construction-" He laughed gently, then papped Light's belly. "Well, you can't, you've got this little turd to worry about. But I'll help, honest." Manic leaned towards Light and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, huddling him close. "Hey, do you still want me to call a doctor? You should be sure you're gonna be alright before you try and handle something like this." He looked Light in the eyes, smiling. "If you want, I could come along and keep you company. Or do you just want to sit here for a while?" “No doubt the explosion would have one of my medics coming in soon to check on me due to the pregnancy,” he replied as he eventually lay back to relax himself, looking up to the roof once more. “But I can sense the pup is fine, though they will argue with me on the point, not that I mind that. They do have their responsibilities.” Manic kept sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Light. "They haven't checked on you already? I would've thought that's the first thing they'd do." He puffed and looked out the window. "Well, there are a bunch more people they have to..." He faltered. He'd tried not to bring up the pedestrians caught in the explosion, but it was too late now. The view from the window showed clear skies. The cloud of dust and smoke had cleared. "Your people have been focused on rebuilding for years, mate, they can handle maybe eight buildings at worst. And with that crew Shadow had come along with him..." He laid down next to Light, turned on his side so he was facing his partner. "I think the shock might be the worst part of this, honestly. And if you can survive that with all your trauma, I'm sure your people will recover." He didn't bring up the possibility of future attacks, or the return of the foxes. It certainly wasn't the end of the trouble, but he didn't need Light to focus on that. He placed on hand on Light's womb. "Are you sure you're both gonna be alright?" Light nodded to him as he looked to him for a moment. “Yeah, we’ll be alright, it's not the first time I’ve been in some crazy situation while expecting kits,“ he said as he relaxed for a moment as his medic n’ a guard returned to his quarters to check on him n’ Manic, since the guard reported he had a few minor wounds to look at.

Once sure they were alright, Light looked to the Mobian wolf. “I need you to take an order out to the scouts n’ track the tentail that was sighted before n’ bring the m in for questioning. Hopefully, they will explain the reason for this chaos that has ensued.” The guard was off with a nod and salute. Manic helped Light stand from the bed, help he didn't really need this early in his pregnancy, but still a kind gesture. His eyes kept darting for the window, looking over the destroyed buildings visible from the castle. "It feels kind of surreal, right? Like it was made up, doesn't it?" Light was more accustomed to these things than Manic. Of course, neither was fine with it, but Light had lived through these things before. "I'll just try and do as much stuff as I can before if actually hits me," he said, hiding his honest admission as some kind of a joke. "Well, if you're ready to get this show on the road..." Manic opened the bedroom door, motioning for Light to leave in front of him. "...let's get this fox hunt started."

[dpalkuino-blog]

Being A Single Mom..how difficult can it be?

Twenty nine years ago, I found myself so in awe as I saw my baby girl being placed in my bosom. It is only then that I believed that she’s a real bundle of joy! I can’t explain the joy of having her, a truly magnificent God’s creation. No words can aptly describe my feelings, in fact, I just had a big smile and tears just slowly flowed from my eyes.

I kept her by my side during her growing up years. I shared with her logical explanations of things, talk to her directly as if she’s not a kid because I want her to grow up with logical minds, smart and most importantly to have an independent mind that is not easily corrupted by outside influence. It is only then that I’ll be sure that she grew up to be decisive and be on her own at an early age.

I’m not sure if I did the right thing at that time, all I know is that she is a gift that should be nurtured with great care, knowledge can easily be imparted, but attitude and emotional IQ is something to be developed. There’s no school of thought how to become a good parent, nor there’s a school of thought that teaches you how to be a good mother.

Of course reference books simply showed an explicitly lifelong experiences of motherhood, but it’s not a pattern that you can depend on to follow in your existing preoccupation. It’s either go and swim later type of upbringing.

Three years of marriage, I find myself in quandary, is this the kind of life I’m going to continue living with a child? My better half is a philandering husband, irresponsible provider and more often than not, loves the company of his young friends without thought of his responsibility as a father and husband to the family.

I kept everything to myself and observed him and my silence is oftentimes the source of our conflict. However, if I told him about why I am angry with him, he easily says sorry and repeat everything as if nothing was learned in the process. This has been going on for eight years, so on the ninth year, I told my parents in law about my plan to leave my husband should he not change his attitude towards us.

I also asked my 5-year old daughter if she can live with me without a father. I know I should not have asked my daughter then, but I’d like to know if in her kid’s mind she would be able to fathom the depth of my question. She said yes to me and I find it a positive reaction.

I told my husband about my plan and if I can’t see any change of him, I told him that when I leave our house, there’s no going back then. 

After a year of observation, I finally decided to leave my husband and brought with me my daughter without saying goodbye. I plan our escape just like thieves of the night so as to ensure that nothing can stop me from leaving him.

Looking back, I didn’t mentioned what prompted me to really leave my husband. My husband’s routine everyday is to be with his friends all day and went home whenever he feels like it all drunk and even sleep anywhere in our house because of drunkenness.

In addition to being drunk, I’ve also observed that he is taking sometimes illegal drugs to probably stimulate their enjoyment.  It is at this situation that I feared for my little daughter’s future.  I maybe so pessimistic, but I can’t help thinking if my husband might actually do harm to my daughter because he is an addict or a user.

This thoughts has given me sleepless nights and one thing lead to another. It was really a difficult situation when I first thought about it, because I left home without a job and finding a space to live requires money. So, I think it was considered idiocy at first and I was glad I have friends who have readily helped me find a job and find a suitable place for me and my daughter.

As a single mom, it was difficult to focus to be a good mom and a good employee at the same time. I was in a rat race environment, it was either I have to prove that I’m capable of handling the job or just be a mom to my daughter. So, I choose the former.

My daughter at a very young age involve in petty thief case in school and it was an eye opener to me. I didn’t expect her to be involved doing such kind of behavior. I talk to her and asked her about it, but it was a simple prank according to her, so I let her get away with it, but that doesn’t stop me from moving her to another school, lest she may encounter the same rich kids again and be influenced somehow.

I took the normal route of being a busy mom and providing for our family needs of two until she reached high school. I was retrenched from my job then and have to leave her in the care of my mother for sometimes because I accepted a job in Manila.

I really didn’t know what transpired during my daughter’s growing up years with me, all I know is that there seems to be no problem about her. I have a short glimpse though of her being bullied in high school and I’ve always been with her whenever she’s in trouble at school and act as her parent and lawyer at the same time.

I never thought for a second that this type of behavior may have significant effect on her personality as a whole. Frankly all those years, I have also been fighting my own demons to conquer.  It was not easy to show the world that you’re okay even if you’re not.  The minute you showed them your weaknesses, you’ll sure be eaten alive.

My only consolation during those period was my faith in God, I have never prayed so hard in my entire life, but it was when me and my daughter was together again after I left her.  It was a real struggle both our subsistence, my work and her college course.

It’s not easy to pursue a dream if you’re living in Manila. Everything was so costly. It isn’t enough that I have work, but my work doesn’t pay that much. My daughter doesn’t know the problem I’ve encountered in my work. Every problem I had, I kept it to her so as not to bother her, more so, the reason of every resignation that I did.

Being an adolescent she has her own opinion of me probably and despite that we live together, the financial struggle that we both have is shared since she had shown so much maturity at a young age. She never used to be open to me anymore so I just let it pass for the time being.

Major event in her life happened when she decided to continue her college course while she is working. She was in her 3rd year in Medical Technology course, when I decided to resign. I didn’t really know that she took my decision very negatively because she is not capable of providing the financial needs of our family and at the same time her school tuition fees.

She stop her schooling, and in the end lost also her relationship with her boyfriend.  She was totally lost during this process and even attempted to commit suicide. She blamed me for everything. Her experienced of having fatherlessness was raised unequivocally as a result of her failure in her recent relationships with the opposite sex.

My unreasonable resignations from my job that brought her so much struggle was also an issue. Because of this trail of failures she encountered, she developed a silent anger in her heart towards me.  This is triggered when there’s something that I raised and she immediately rant and like a walking time bomb, she explode.

Now she doesn’t want to live with me anymore and I really find it so hurtful. She is my one and only daughter yet because of my past decisions, she can’t find it in her heart to really forget and forgive.  I truly love my daughter and my whole world revolved around her for the last 28 years of her life.  

I can’t imagine a life without her since since she is the essence of the life I’ve created for myself. I thought I have shown her what real love is all about, because in all honesty, I haven’t cared other people but my daughter. I have forgotten about myself, my needs and my ambition.

I used to believed that love begets love, but in our current situation, I haven’t reap the kind of love that mother expect from her daughter. I only wish that one day when I leave this world, she can find it in her heart to realize that everything happened for a reason and I never did things on my own with the intention of hurting her.

I thought that leaving her father means taking action to protect her from being hurt. My decision to quit jobs was due to various factors, one of the most important reason is self-respect.  If I can’t respect my superior who have provided food for my table, why will I continue to work for them. God’s commandments is very clear, whoever, he choose to lead must be respected and followed.

Today, I suffered in silence for I know that this cross I have to bear in order that the sin I have committed will be forgiven. The job of living is now an elusive commodity for me, but I still thank God for the strength that has been bestowed on me.

If this is the kind of life I should bear to my grave, I only hope that one day, I may find my daughter being happy and reap the joy of success that she has painstakingly trying to achieve for herself.

[cover32-yahoopartner-blog]

Titans fans panic after a loss

Titans fans panic after a loss

Wow did the emails come pouring in. I love you guys, but at the same time….can I call ya crazy? It’s just a preseason loss. Please relax.

Why wasn’t Mularkey pulling players for struggling?

Coach Mike Mularkey has to coach roughly 100 players. He did pull some, as I wrote yesterday. It seems he saw this as an opportunity to overcome. The Titans scored a touchdown in the fourth quarter, so he wasn’t wrong. He believed in them and they did come through in that regard. NFL teams are so deep that some players will “get the hook” while other players get cheered on to overcome their issues. Mularkey and his staff have to figure out which way to motivate which players. I can’t say Mularkey should motivate this guy this way but that guy that way.

I am “old school.” I do believe coaches should pull players that are struggling. It worked. Legendary coaches have done this and it works for them. In the old school manner, yes I would have pulled Marcus Mariota and Tajae Sharpe. On a third down play where it was maybe 3rd and 20 or somesuch. He could have put Tyler Ferguson in to throw to David Fluellen. As Mariota and Sharpe came to the sideline, they would have gotten an earful from the coach. On the next series, they would have returned with a better mindset.

I think where most people have a disconnect is simply in the age of the players. Many sports fans only played sports til the high school level. They were kids when they played. The Titans are adults. As with anything in life, you treat adults and children differently. Your high school coach making you do laps for fighting isn’t the same as Mularkey dealing with Quinton Spain for fighting. Spain is a grown man that understands responsibility. High school athletes usually need to learn some accountability and responsibility. It’s far less common for an NFL player to run “punishment laps” than it is to be fined. This is where I circle back to where I started here. The Titans staff has to decide exactly how to motivate and correct their players.

The Titans staff wasn’t good yesterday. They weren’t. Mularkey said as such during the presser. They did not find a way to correct the players and overcome quick enough. There’s plenty of blame for everyone. Oh well. The game is over and it will mean nothing once they have reviewed the game tape. Don’t hold onto the bitterness. The Titans won’t.

Didn’t Mularkey cheat the depth players by playing the starters into the fourth quarter?

Possibly. I understand what you’re thinking. Maybe that some of the backups thought they’d play a quarter or a half and they only got in for a handful of snaps.

Week four of preseason is for the backups. The starters either don’t play or play sparingly. If we assume Mularkey had this on his mind, then I think he made the right call. Yes, it’s ideal to get everyone ample time to show what they can do, but this wasn’t an ideal situation. He will see the backups next week.

Based on three preseason games….

Try to remember that the staff has been with these players since the spring. For discussion, let’s suppose they’ve practiced 60 times. The games have significant weight, but so do the 60 practices. Fans attended some practices and Titans reporters convey an awful lot, but otherwise we don’t know what happened at the practices. We have to tread lightly here in giving the preseason games too much weight.

When to “jump on” a player then

Basics. Sylvester Williams getting pushed around and rarely ever getting leverage. (Yes I called him Dan Williams once yesterday. I apologize for the oops) In a previous game, Steven Moore getting beat consistently and not moving his feet. In prior years, the Titans have had wide receivers running wrong routes and not catching the ball. Kevin Dodd still not really covering and/or establishing himself against the run game. The NFL is made up of the best of the best. We (Really the Titans) should be evaluating receivers for how many balls they catch, not that they actually catch a ball. That’s too elementary.

Which player do you think the Titans will cut that will drive you nuts?

Denzel Johnson. I could write here how he could start AND how he could be cut. He is so fast and aware as an outfielder. With Michael Griffin growing old on us, it has been a long time since the Titans had a special outfielder. Since the day Griffin lost a step, teams have been throwing deep on the Titans. I don’t believe the Titans have addressed this issue well. I see a whole lot of very good strong safeties that can cover and put their shoulder down to make a tackle. The Titans haven’t had a guy that can fly since young Griffin. Why would this be the year they change? I hope they do, but one could certainly argue that it is not a primary quality they are looking for in a safety.

Which player do you think the Titans will keep that will drive you nuts?

Eric Weems. I don’t see the value. I do see him hustling down the field and being one of the first players to the ball. I do, but there are others there too. If others are doing the same thing, I wouldn’t call it special. When he returns kicks, he runs straight. He has no moves and it just lacks a certain pizazz. Adoree Jackson is exciting and it’s a completely different feel while watching Jackson back there receiving kicks. Tre McBride runs straight on kick returns. We’ve seen that in prior games. He is a receiver that can contribute. Weems is not. McBride has done fine as a gunner too. Let’s suppose it’s not McBride. The Titans can’t find someone to catch a ball and run straight? None of their youthful players are hungry enough to hustle as a gunner on special teams? I simply find Weems to be quite replaceable.

I will throw out some sort of caveat here. Ever since the days of Steve Tasker in Buffalo, I regularly undervalue these types.

(“drive you nuts” was maybe a bit much here, but I answered the Q anyway.)

How come every writer loves Woodyard and you’re always criticizing him?

It has always been that way my entire twenty-two years of writing. It “sounds” real arrogant to say that I see “old men” that have lost a step while others don’t, but it’s the only way I can explain it. My favorite experience in this regard was being able to trade and pickup Zach Thomas three times before he retired. He was an outstanding middle linebacker in his prime, so “no one” could accept that he lost a step. I would trade him and wait for my opponent to drop him and then do it again. There was always someone that would think good ol’ Zach would come through for their fantasy football team. An inside linebacker must have speed to get to the very fast and shifty running back. The running back is the hardest guy on the field to tackle and gets the ball more than anyone else. If the linebacker hits him three yards past the line of scrimmage, that is not as good as if he hits him at the line of scrimmage. Every yard matters. The lost step is quite significant. A zillion years ago, the Buccaneers moved Hardy Nickerson closer to the line of scrimmage. He was lined up a step more forward than the other two linebackers. Problem solved! I don’t know why teams don’t do this with the older players. Maybe their vision isn’t so well there? Maybe it puts them in a poor position to cover? The Bucs added a year or two to Nickerson’s career by doing that.

Barry Sanders Jr was never picked up. Do you still wish the Titans did?

Yes! Sign him to the practice squad “out of the blue.” His moves are so similar to his father’s moves that I absolutely believe he is worth the Titans investing a year of development into. Plus, everywhere ya look, people are saying that he is a “good guy” just like his father was. I can’t imagine any downside here at all. By the way, thanks for remembering that from the spring.

Does Mekhale McKay have any chance of making the practice squad now?

Sure he does. He has been out a while now and that does hurt his chances, but he was there since the spring. He’s gigantic. I don’t think people know much about him. He is six-foot-five-inches tall with an enormous wingspan and good “ups.” Jonathan Krause probably has the edge on him now. We saw Matt Cassel looking for Krause and targeting him a few times.

If the Titans were to cut Sylvester Williams, what’s his contract like?

SpoTrac is a wonderfully useful site for contract info.

I’m going to start working for (sitename) tracking in-game stats. Do you have any advice for me?

Drink enough coffee to make you hyper. I don’t really mean that, but it’s not far off. You’re going to become so alert and type so fast that you will rub your hands and eyes between quarters. It is not a difficult job, but it sure isn’t a job for everyone. Be ready and attack the game for a few hours. Don’t go correct mistakes. There are a number of guys doing the same thing as you. If four guys score a run as a five-yard run, that you scored it as seven yards doesn’t matter. Their program goes with the four yards. Stay focused, keep watching, and typing as fast as possible. Good luck with your new job.

As far as the Texans

As far as the Texans and the people of Houston. I wish everyone safety and the best possible circumstances here. I will be praying for you and…my heart goes out to all of you and all you’re going through.

My topic here is the Titans and I really am not allowed to stray from that. I just wanted to wish everyone well.

What will happen with their season?

As I remember it, during Hurricane Katrina no one wanted football scores or updates. How petty to be concerned with a game! But the flooding was there for some days and people wanted (even needed) the fun of watching a football game. They needed their minds to not stress, but to think of a game for a few hours. I expect Houston fans to go through a similar experience. The Saints played at LSU and there are plenty of other stadiums in Texas. It won’t be difficult to find a venue; maybe logistics like traffic, but they will work all of that out. I think Texans fans are still in “football is petty” mode now. Give it some time. They’re going to need that release.

I’m going to ask a favor of all of you: Regardless of whether you are a Titans/former Oilers fan or a Cowboys fan, this week please try and grab a Texans fan and cheer with them for a change. Whatever they are going through, they could possibly use a buddy to watch the game with. Maybe you’re not a nurse or a policeman or a fireman that can offer aid. Maybe you don’t have a boat with which to help. Help them this way. Show those Texans fans a good time. We can tease each other when the Texans come up as opponents, but right now is quite different. This week, show them a good time, please. Thank you