#The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy

[foreverpraying]

Source of picture: https://lawrenceop.tumblr.com

The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy:

1, Feed the hungry.

2, Give drink to the thirsty.

3, Clothe the naked.

4, Shelter the homeless.

5, Visit the sick.

6, Visit the imprisoned.

7, Bury the dead.

Compendium of the Cathecism of the Catholic Church

[rottenstrawberrymilk]

rhys strongfork x reader

9.1k words

        “God, you’re the best,” Rhys says with a sigh.         “Hey, you say the word and I’m here bossman. Anything you want or need, I’m on it. It’s the least I can do.”         Zer0 eyes you from across the office. Or at least, you think he is. You’re still adjusting to the faceless mysterious thing that hangs around Rhys all the time. He probably still suspects you. Were you being suspicious? You suppose you’d gone out of your way to be especially good for Rhys and earn his favor. After all, if you had betrayed Maliwan to defect over to Atlas, what was to stop you from betraying Atlas as well?         You didn’t exactly start here with a shiny clean record. But Rhys had been so kind and merciful, taking you in, giving you a decent position like this. You just want to express your gratitude anyway you can. Chances are his decision to let you into Atlas had saved your life. Thus, you figure you owe him every breath in your body. And a bagel. Anytime he wanted it. You don't think you'll ever repay your debt to him, and you don't think you want to either.

        You think you could be happy here, at Atlas. And that's not something you imagined thinking about any one of the soul sucking greedy corporations that had their eyes on the planets in this system. 

        As you turn to walk out the room, attending to some other business you'd been assigned, Rhys's eyes follow you. Zer0's head tilts ever so slightly towards Rhys. He heaves a bit of a sigh, regarding the bagel on his desk. And you remembered the cream cheese he likes. He wonders if he's about to make a mistake. I mean, how could someone as nice as you possibly stab him in the back? He looks back up at Zer0, and the assassin just gives a curt nod.

        Just do it. Gotta find out one way or another.

        Rhys nods as well, before sinking down low into his chair and burying his face in his hands. If this is the right, smart thing to do, why does he feel so goddamn guilty about it? He finds himself wishing he was more like the other CEOs. Ruthless, calculating, business first, success first, able to actually watch their ass. Willing to do whatever it takes to hold onto that seat of power. But then he finds himself wondering how those men live like that, on the edge, suspicious of everyone, so sure death was seeking them out at every turn. It had to be miserable, right? 

        Meanwhile, you were making your way down a hall. Rhys said he'd wanted you to go check on the new maintenance guys and see how they were adjusting, and then report back to him personally. You don't mind having to run around headquarters all day, it's good exercise and you feel productive. It doesn't feel like he's just giving you busy work either, he's just having you act socially in his stead. The guy can't be in seven places at once, although you bet he wishes he was. He's never been a micromanaging type, but he is a bit of a chatterbox. 

        Suddenly, a firm hand grabs your shoulder, shoving you up against a wall. Momentarily, you're winded, gasping out, as the razor sharp tip of a sword presses lightly to the center of your throat. Zer0 suddenly appears out of thing air. Confusion is obvious on your face, but it's not enough to fool him so easily. Anyone, traitor or not, would have been shocked getting caught off guard like that. 

        "Talk," Zer0 commands. If it's not elaborate haikus, it's equally cryptic one word sentences. 

        You shift a little under his grip and his fingers tighten, to the point where you know he'll leave bruises. You wonder what the fuck is going on. Best communicate that. 

        "I don't...what the hell are you doing?" you ask, sounding less outraged and more afraid. Good, Zer0 can use that. It should make this all easier. 

        "You are still very new./ Where do your loyalties lie?/ Tell me the real truth." 

        Your brows furrow. "My...my loyalties?" you repeat back, a bit dumbfounded.

         Are you being interrogated right now? Was Zer0 that suspicious of you this entire time? You couldn't get a read on the guy no matter what, even back when you'd first joined Atlas (at Rhys's own suggestion). You know it's his job to protect the CEO, and you figured he'd do it whether he was contracted or not, but what threat could you possibly pose to Rhys? You feel a bit stupid for not immediately jumping to your history--even if it had been months ago and the majority of the conflict and siege had settled, that didn't change how long you had worked for Maliwan before coming to Promothea. It didn't matter if it had been against your will to be sent here to fight, to die, for Maliwan's cause. All that mattered was that you had been initially taking orders from Katagawa Jr. 

        You take in a shaky breath, heart still racing in your chest. The sword point remains steady. It pricks at your skin, already warning you for taking such a long, rather suspicious silence. The visor hiding his face is blank. No stupid little emoticons, no text, just black. You can see your own terrified reflection in it. You don't know what to do other than to tell the truth, just like Zer0 had demanded. But what if he still didn't believe you? Doesn't matter. You come to realize you don't have a choice. You force your voice to be steady. 

        “I’m loyal to Rhys,” you say, jaw set. “I owe that man my life.”         Rhys, not Atlas, Zer0 notes. He’s not sure how to feel about that yet. Slowly, he leans a little ways back. He steps away, giving you some personal space back. And the sword withdraws from your throat. Silently, Zer0 sheathes the sword over his shoulder, and the blade fades away into nothing. You know it will only be a few moments before he does the same. He lifts a gloved hand, holding up a stern finger.          “Please do not forget/ I am always watching you/ do not fuck this up.”         You know you could have not replied at all. You could have just looked away and let this nightmare of an interaction be over. But heart pounding in your chest, you can't help but give a response. “I won’t. Second chances don’t come around often.”

        Zer0 regards you for a moment longer. Then, he vanishes. Creepy...you'll never get used to that. You take a moment to stand there, unsure if he's gone or if he's going to continue tailing you for longer, just to double check. All he'd be affirming is that you were telling the truth if he did that. You think about going straight back to Rhys's office and telling him what had just happened. But you remember he'd given you an assignment to do. As shitty as all this was...the least you can do is get that done before returning. Rhys should know Zer0 is suspicious of you. But he'd also asked about the new maintenance staff's adjustment, and that's important too when it comes to rebuilding and cleaning up some of the HQ.

        A sigh leaves you before you resume the direction you'd initially been headed in. Lucky for you, the new maintenance guys seem pretty capable. It's not that you didn't trust Rhys's judgement in hiring (after all, he'd brought you on as some extra help), it's just...things had been hectic and desperate, and his priority had been to replace the former staff which had mysteriously vanished. Rhys said he knew nothing about it, and then mentioned there were no bodies, before promptly cutting off his ECHO device and never speaking of it again. None of your business, and frankly you're not nearly nosy enough to care. 

        You tried not to seem like your mind was elsewhere, still shaken from the encounter with Zer0. Instead, you politely smile and nod along to whatever the new guys are saying.         

        "Uh huh...well, good to see you guys are so eager to get started. The CEO decided to have some of the Crimson Lance join you guys as bodyguards. They'll make sure you're safe while you sweep headquarters, uh, no pun intended. Not all of Maliwan has been booted out yet." 

        They nod, murmuring their thanks. 

        "Great, the boys should be up here any minute. Feel free to mingle. Rhys wants the overall sweep done by about six. You can come back here and report the damages and body count to me and I'll pass it up to the big guy upstairs." 

        Rhys had always instructed you not to be too formal. He said it "ruined the vibe" he was going for. It was odd, you've never worked for a company that was purposefully attempt to maintain such a lax attitude. Especially right after an attempted invasion, takeover, and then additional total destruction attempt by Katagawa Jr. But if he said he wanted it done a certain way, you were going to make sure you adhered to his preference. The little voice in your head once again reminds you with a guilty twinge that it was the least you could do. It still felt weird to drop all the "sir"'s and formalities after years of having to do it at Maliwan. 

        You wonder if a company with that kind of hierarchy could last long against the other ruthless giants. With Hyperion gone, Dahl still getting back up on their feet from when Hyperion had initially come to power, there's once again a central power void waiting to be filled. Could Atlas actually do it? If Rhys could genuinely return Atlas to it's former glory, that would be incredible. You don't know if it's possible for mega corporations that primarily compete in the gun market to ever reach peaceful agreements, but you certainly believe Rhys might be able to pave the way to that new frontier. 

        Then again...he has his own shortcomings. 

        You hadn't known him long, at least, not before he became a CEO. But you're aware of his weaknesses. One of them, maybe being that his pet assassin slash bodyguard seemed to be allowed to free roam and terrorize whoever he wanted on a whim of suspicion...okay that one might have been a little personal. But, you've got the report and gave your little speech to the new maintenance team, so now you have time to go and talk to Rhys. You can communicate those feelings and hurt instead of letting it rot you inside, like you would have done at Maliwan. You still can't help but feel bitter, almost automatically in a bad mood whenever you're reminded of working for them...

        Goddamn Zer0.

        Of course it's not fair for you to be allowed to forget. Not with all the destruction and innocent lives Maliwan had cost Promethea. And you'd been on the payroll. You try not to fall too far into your own head as you turn away and head back to the elevator that ascended to Rhys's office. It's an uncomfortable wait, and an even worse silence. Usually, you stop to gaze a little at the massive aquariums lining the way to the CEO's office. But this is urgent. 

        Rhys looks up from his desk at you and smiles, although you feel like there's something...wrong. 

        You practice some restraint, and decide to give him that report on maintenance first. 

        "So yeah..."

        Rhys pushes his chin into his hand. "I hope they don't find too much damage. I gotta be even more on top of it with the finances around here, what with how I'm gonna have to rebuild the city too. Or bodies," he gives a nervous laugh, "hope they find even less of those. Identifying, funerals, cremations, burials, finding the families, it gets pricey y'know?" 

        Right...that was the other thing about him. While he's not nearly as bad as the other CEO's you've heard about in your lifetime (you heard Handsome Jack was a total monster), Rhys can be a little callous at times. CEOs generally seem to have a disconnect between themselves and everyone else lower in the company. A special kind of corporate breed of lacking empathy that can be a bit disturbing. His isn't especially awful but...you worry. You hope he can keep himself on the right path. 

        At your lack of response, he shifts a little in his chair. "You...uh...are you alright, (Y/N)?" he suddenly asks. 

        Your eyes won't meet his. "Can we talk? Privately."

        Rhys wonders if it's the smartest idea to grant that request. He knows Zer0 is in the office right now, being weird and invisible as usual. They're a great bodyguard, but Rhys sometimes feels a little nutty talking to thin air whenever Zer0 doesn't feel like uncloaking. The presence is usually comforting but...

        You won't even look at him now? Uh oh...

        Fix this, Rhys, fix this, come on... he tells himself.

        "Yeah, totally, of course." He turns in his chair, to a corner he hopes Zer0 is in.

        Sometimes they like to hang out near the bookshelves or the couch. He clears his throat. Zer0 promptly reappears on the opposite side of the room, prompting Rhys to embarrassedly swivel his chair the other way. Had the bodyguard been trying to make him look stupid in front of you on purpose? Anxiously, he goes to check your face for a reaction, to see you judging him, or amused, or...or still staring at a wall, away from him. His heart sinks a little. 

        "Just for a minute or two, Zer0," Rhys calls after him, having a feeling he won't be too far away.

        "Later, bro," Zer0 replies, walking out the office, still keeping himself visible. 

         If the assassin wanted to he could easily cloak and sneak back in. Which Rhys sincerely hopes they don't. Even though Zer0 had reported back that you'd only reaffirmed your loyalties to him, Rhys knew they still didn't trust you completely. Which is...fair. Anyone can say anything if they're under enough pressure. And he's seen Zer0 work enough to know how terrifying the guy can be. As well as unpredictable. As much as Rhys trusts them, it always seems like they're thinking eight steps ahead...freaky. 

        Rhys returns his attention on you.

        You give a soft exhale, like you're preparing to say something you don't want to. "Look, while I was going to get that update on maintenance, uhm..." Zer0 had attacked you, basically, was the truth. But you decide to play things safe. Maybe it's just a misunderstanding. God knows, Zer0 does his job incredibly well, and this is probably just part of it--you don't want Rhys suddenly not trusting his own bodyguard.         

        "I...ran into Zer0. Well, they ran into me, more like it, but, whatever. And he-"

        Rhys interrupts you. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I asked Zer0 to do that. I just had to be sure-“         Your eyes finally meet his. The crestfallen look descending on your face is heart wrenching. Like he'd just kicked a puppy in front of you or something. Rhys wonders if it wasn’t the right choice after all to ask Zer0 to check your loyalties, to make absolutely sure you could be trusted. But lord knows he wasn’t brave enough to do it, not scary enough to get the truth out of you like the assassin could. He also couldn’t bare the thought of pointing a weapon at you, whether you were a traitor or not. Ironic, considering he's in control of one of many powerful gun manufacturers.          He just…he knows he has to be careful from now and into the future. The bigger Atlas gets, the more enemies he makes. The Maliwan invasion had been a very quick, brutal lesson in that.          You try to hide the disappointment on your face. Your voice comes shaky. 

        He knew. 

        You suddenly feel very stupid for coming in here in the first place. You shouldn't have said anything at all. You should have just kept it to yourself and moved on with your life, with your job, with your career at Atlas. It would have ensured this awkward, sad, stupid conversation never had to take place.          “Oh that’s…that’s okay I guess. I just thought…I mean you always told me the past is the past and it’s all behind me. That you didn’t care and that it was all behind me.” The hurt in your voice makes this so much harder for him.         “I know, I know what I said,” Rhys said, looking stressed. He runs a hand through his hair. There's some gray streaks already beginning to form. Embarrassing considering he's only in his thirties. “But…I needed to be sure.”

        Even though he knows this was all for his own safety, and this whole test was initially Zer0’s idea to begin with, Rhys feels bad. Like, really bad. He still gave his bodyguard the go ahead. He scratches at his mustache momentarily, trying to think of how he could…         “I understand, Rhys” you say a bit softly. He notices that there's tears beginning to form in your eyes. He starts to talk again, but you cut him off. “No, I really get it. I mean…only a few months ago I was basically under Katagawa Jr.'s thumb. You don’t have any reason to really trust me. Not yet, anyways.”         Bitter but true. And an insecurity that’d always clouded your mind at night before you fell asleep. Sometimes you still had nightmares of bullets flying past your head and people screaming and dying around you. But you’d always wake up, knowing things were different now. That instead of racing to the training field, you just had to race downtown to grab some coffee or froyo or a bagel or whatever the hell Rhys wanted that day before work. That Rhys was different, that Atlas was different from Maliwan. He’d promised you that you’d never have to hold a gun again— once again, ironic as Atlas is still another soulless weapons manufacturer. But Rhys had promised and that’d been good enough for you.

        Rhys looked even more uncomfortable now. He wears his emotions on his face. Something your former, much more homicidal boss never did. You don't consider that one of his weaknesses at all.          “But I do trust you,” he insists, “I mean— I sent Zer0, but it’s -it’s, God, it’s complicated. I trust you so much I had to just see if that trust was for real, does that make sense?”         It really doesn’t. If he trusted you there’d be no reason to suspect you in the first place, in your opinion. It hurts. He sees that little heartbroken look on your face still isn’t gone, even after his super smooth save. The tears are still gathering in your eyes and you still won't look at him. If he can't fix this, it's gonna drive him up the wall for the rest of the day.          “Y’know what? Dinner.” He claps his hands together, grabbing your attention with another awkward laugh and you swear you see a flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, let’s do dinner. On me. Food fixes everything, right? Best way to say 'sorry' ever.”

        Could food fix a complete lapse in trust caused by his paranoia? He looks so earnestly at you, fingers still clasped together, almost like he’s begging you to say yes. Begging you to move past this with him and forgive this slight. Why not say yes? It couldn’t hurt. And it seems like it’s gonna make him feel way better than you would.         Under any other circumstance you’d shoot this down. It's unprofessional to go out with your boss. It's wrong. It's not right to let him pay for your food. It's not rational to...to...         The look on his face…he really does seem apologetic. You remind yourself that a boss like him is a rare thing during these times. You remind yourself that if there’s no Atlas, you’d be forced back to Maliwan or forced to try and make it on your own. Neither of those are options. You must have been thinking for a long time, because Rhys clears his throat and stands up from his desk. He approaches you, like he wants you to believe he trusts you not to snap and murder him. Because, hey, you used to be Maliwan, and that's all that you'd ever be to him-

        “It’ll be super cas, no pressure at all,” he says, with another nervous breath of air, interrupting your rather horrible train of thought. “Uh, like a ‘yayy you’re not here to kill me’ thing.”         “Alright. That sounds nice.” You smile at him but he feels like it’s not one of your real ones. It doesn't match the look in your glassy eyes. Was he shoving this onto you too fast?

        “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just wanna make it up to you-“         “Rhys,” you say, and he stops. “It’s okay. We’re cool.”         You hold out a hand for him to take, in spite of your racing thoughts. He does, giving you a firm squeeze. His hands are always so warm. He lets go after a brief moment. He takes a moment to fix his tie, which only skews it worse. You have to sometimes wonder how a guy like him holds a position like this one, much less built the formerly dead company up all on his own.         “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” He says, and you nod.

        “But the maintenance team," you start and Rhys puts his head in his hand.

        "Right...right. Uh...seveenn?" he tries again.

        To his relief, you give another validating nod that didn't make him feel as stupid and dumb as he felt initially. "Can I ask where we’re going?”         “Nuh uh. Ruins my surprise. You gotta tr-“ He pauses. “Uh you’ll like it, okay?”         You give a light, exasperated shake of your head. Rhys breathes a sigh of relief at the bit of playfulness and the tiniest smile on your face. Seven gives you enough time to get that report to Rhys and go home for a few minutes. But until then, you have a slew of other shit to busy yourself with that Zer0's approach had totally distracted you from. The least you could do was throw yourself into your work for the rest of the day. There are some times where you spend most of your day at Rhys's side, waiting for a command or for him to need something. There are other days where you're out and about, in the halls of headquarters, or the streets of the city. Regrettably, you're relieved that it's the ladder today. 

        “Don’t worry, I do trust you,” you call out half heartedly as you leave.         Rhys wants to take one of the monitors off a nearby desk and smash it against his head. That couldn’t have gone any worse. ‘You gotta trust me’ seriously? After what he just did to you?         A bit of a groan escapes him and he goes back to his desk to sit down. Hopefully he can wrestle a reservation out of the place he had in mind. He figures you’re just telling him what he wants to hear— you’re a good employee like that. But before this all, you probably would have told him the truth. That dinner won’t fix him betraying you like this. That it’s not gonna magically put down the metaphorical middle finger he’d just put up to the months of time his relationship with you was built around. To the hours you spent basically at his beck and call. Doing whatever he told you to without a question or second thought. You'd always given off the impression you thought he was brilliant. And that made Rhys feel good. He's worried you won't ever look at him again like that. 

        He drums his fingers on the desk, resting his chin and mouth in his hand again as he shuts his eyes. 

        On the bright side…he’d finally had the balls to ask you out. Part of the reason he’d wanted Zer0 to interrogate you was because he’d really wanted to try going out with you. Obviously, he hadn't exactly jumped to let Zer0 know that. He still had a personal life! He was allowed to do that! CEO or not! He opens his eyes and reaches to the photo of Sasha on his desk, suddenly feeling guilty, and goes to place it face down. But he hesitates.         It’s…kinda lonely at the top. He feels it tenfold lately. And… well your smile had started kinda being the highlight of his day. Now he fears he's never gonna see the real thing ever again.          She’d want him happy right? He pulls his hand away from the picture. There’s nothing wrong with this. There’s nothing wrong with a guy like him wanting a girl like you. Of course there’s that pesky power imbalance, the fact that he’s your boss could make this messy… But other CEOs just do whatever they want, right? They don’t think about any of this shit. Although he doesn’t like thinking back to his time at Hyperion, even he remembers Handsome Jack’s reputation for fucking just about anything that moved. Whatever he wanted, he got. That was why Rhys had begun to admire him in the first place.

        Rhys rubs at his eyes. He doesn’t want to be like Jack though. Or Katagawa with that stupid ‘pleasure yacht’, or any other nutcase CEO. He doesn't want to just...just bend you over the desk and fuck you, like you're just something to use, he swears to himself it's not like that at all! It's more than lust that tortures him.          He wants you to like him. So desperately bad. He knows you like having him as a boss, that you like his stupid little jokes, that you like his mustache (he'd asked you once to be sure), that you enjoyed his company. At least once you did. But he wants you to like like him. The same way he feels about you. But it’d have been dangerous to let you in so fast without knowing for sure that you weren’t Maliwan’s last hurrah in an attempt to end his life. That you weren’t some super secret cute seductress spy attempting to exact revenge for Katagawa Jr. He wondered if it’d be rude to ask what your relationship with the other CEO had been. After how well everything else had gone? Yeah, probably.

        You'd been pretty low ranked in Maliwan, from what little you'd told him of it. He doubts that you'd ever received the high honor of boarding that stupid fucking pleasure yacht. He felt himself get a little angry still, at the notion of something he'd likely made up in his head and had no ground to stand on whatsoever. 

        “Should I follow you?/ She could still try to kill you./I know I would try.”         Rhys jumps a little as Zer0’s voice comes out of thin air. He’d forgotten that he'd sent the bodyguard out. And he certainly hadn't noticed him sneaking back in. Well not, sneaking, more like just sauntered right back in, plain as day and Rhys had been so lost in his incredibly frustrating thoughts he hadn't noticed. It'd been...a smart choice to have Zer0 leave the room. He’d have felt worse having him skulk around all invisible. Chances were the assassin had already listened in. And Rhys was none the wiser. What a powerful ally…He finds himself grateful Zer0 is on his side, even if he doesn't quite know what the answer is.

        “Ah, no,” Rhys says. “It’ll be alright. She’s not a Maliwan spy or anything— you heard it yourself.”         Zer0 gives him a look that needs no verbal explanation.         “I mean, you did interrogate her yourself. I don’t think she’d lie to you. Or me, as a matter of fact.”         Zer0 just shrugs. “I will still come with./ I will be outside the place./ Your foes still draw breath.”         Cool, a bodyguard outside the restaurant. And Rhys promises he’ll tell you too. Nothing but transparency from here on out! He can be better for you. Rhys wonders if it’s bordering on delusional to think he still has a chance with you after today. He’s reminded that you don’t have anywhere to go but Atlas. Anyone else would have breathed a sigh of relief at that security. But it only makes Rhys feel worse.

        What if you’d only said yes because you couldn’t say anything else? He’d never wanted you to feel as if turning him down wasn’t an option. You had seemed pretty genuine in accepting the offer. But if he brought up the idea of dating…should he just hold off on that? But he thinks about what Zer0 said, that poetic stuff about his enemies still breathing. He does have people out there who want him dead.         So if he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die like a man, dammit! And he’s gonna tell you how he feels because that’s the manly thing to do! Emotions are manly! Sharing them is manly!         So why does he feel like he’s gonna throw up on his desk?         Focus, Rhys, focus. The reservation hasn’t even been made yet.

        He hopes you'll like the place he picked. That is if you don't find an excuse by the end of the workday to flake out on him. He knows he might do something like that if he was in your position. Several hundred feet down, in the heart of the building, you do your best to stay busy and keep your mind off...everything. Every time you feel dread begin to rise, you beat the feeling back down.

        Free food. Free food. Free food. Free food.

        The repetition doesn't seem to help. 

        When the end of the day comes, time forever marching forwards no matter how badly you wish it wouldn't, you find yourselves at another crossroads. Maintenance had come back with their report. You knew you could take it to Rhys in person, as you usually do. It wasn't a formal policy or anything, it's just something the two of you had always done. In a company so absorbed in technology, it was important to have a little human contact. However you feel your stomach drop at the idea of jumping back on the elevator and going to his office...seeing him again. It's such a ridiculous turmoil--you have to see him again anyways later on in the night. But you just don't feel ready yet.

        You need some time to yourself. You need fifteen minutes to go home and cry on your bed, to get all the nasty horrible feelings chewing away at your insides out. Let yourself fall apart so you can string yourself back together, good as new. Then maybe, just maybe, you could handle dinner with Rhys. The last think you want to do is break down crying in public. It had been so hard to bite back the tears in his office, harder with every word out of his mouth. 

        You make the difficult choice just to forward the report to him via ECHO. If he asks any questions you'll just tell him you needed a little time to get home and get ready. Luckily, as you begin to head out the door alongside other Atlas employees, you don't receive any incoming calls from him. You wonder if he's up there, with that guilty dog-caught-eating-trash look, probably kicking himself for all this. It takes a lot of restraint not to turn around and go back into the building to check on him, like you've gotten so used to doing. 

        Maybe that's the worst part of today--is that you want to go crawling back. You want to sweep this under the rug, pretend like none of it happened, pretend like it's normal for someone you trust and maybe even love to do this to you. But you just can't. It'll take time. Or a way bigger gesture than dinner, you guess. 

        Dinner itself started off as awkward as you had imagined it to be. It's Rhys, so you figured there'd be a level of awkwardness whether what happened today had gone down or not. He still hadn't called you, to your relief, and had simply forwarded the address to the restaurant and the reservation time to your ECHO. You'd told yourself before leaving the house that if you really wanted to, you probably could have faked sick to get out of this or come up with some other brilliant excuse. 

        But you don't. You don't have the heart to stand him up like that.

        Oh also he's the CEO of Atlas and probably the man with the most power on all of Promethea. You'd weighed the possibility of him doing something drastic if you didn't show. You...you don't think he's that kind of man. But after the little loyalty test with Zer0, you're no longer sure. You're uneasy. So if sitting down for a little dinner with him takes that horrible feeling away, you'd do it. 

        He gives a bit of a weak, quiet whistle, hands in his pockets, somehow confident and nervous all at the same time. "Wow," he'd said to you, looking you up and down in your different outfit. "You look, uh, you look great."

        He gives you his signature 'ok' hand signal, a habit he'd formed lately. You'd just responded with a curt nod, still not sure what to say to him. You hate this. He hates this too. It feels like the two of you are strangers all over again. He's briefly reminded of your first week at Atlas, at his side. You'd rarely spoken to him, you couldn't look him in the eye, you flinched when he did speak, and everything you did, you did absolutely terrified. It'd taken half a month to get you to stop calling him sir, and even longer to convince you to address him as 'Rhys' rather than Mr. Strongfork. Was it gonna be like that again?

        What the hell was he thinking...

        He visibly seems to deflate, the smile flickering on his face. You feel bad for your coldness--it hadn't been purposeful.

        You clear your throat. "Y-You look good too, Rhys. Beautiful, as always." 

        That seems to perk him up a little. That dumb smile of his slips back onto his face. "Y'think? Parted my hair different, see?"

        You honestly can't tell the difference or if he's joking. But either way, you just nod again. Whatever, as long as that horrible ice is broken. It shouldn't be there in the first place. You painstakingly remind yourself that it's his fault it's there to begin with. He lead you over to a table, near the back of the restaurant, towards a large window that gave a rather nice view of the city. Well, what was left of it anyways. He has a lot to rebuild. 

        "This spot used to be the best in the house," he explains a bit awkwardly. "It's been a...a little bit since I've taken anyone here so I totally forgot that the city's, uh, destroyed--you ever been here before?" 

        He has this way of talking where every thought just goes straight to his mouth. Like you can follow his train of thought alongside him. That's why you'd trusted him so fast and warmed up to him so easily before. Now it makes you wonder how he'd been able to keep his plan a secret from you. Had he planned to do that to you for long? Or was it a spur of the moment Rhys thing? 

        Stop thinking about it.

        He was waiting on a response.

        You shake your head. "No. I haven't had the chance to check everything out here."

        Rhys wants to kick himself. Right. You'd practically spent most of your adult life working under Maliwan. You'd only come to Promethea to begin with because that's where you'd been ordered to go. Hopefully a waiter comes soon and saves him from this. Or...he could just be honest with you and say sorry. He'd been pacing the office, already planning out an apology in his head. He'd even written it down on a piece of paper, of all things, and then had promptly crumpled it up and threw it out. There's...there's a lot he wants to say to you and he doesn't have a clue where to start. 

        You watch Rhys call over a waiter with a rather brisk gesture that suggests the conversation is just as uncomfortable for him. Quietly, you put your order in. He orders wine-- a nice bottle from what little you know about fineries. You hadn't really imagined him to be a big drinker. He must be nervous. 

        "You can have some too. Obviously. As much as you want. My treat." 

        "Thanks," you say a bit blankly, finding your gaze wandering somewhere out the window. 

        He can wait for the alcohol to loosen him up a bit. To give him the courage to say what he need to. But he wonders if that might come across as inauthentic. If you'll think it's just the wine talking for him. 

        Fuck it.

        "Look," he says with a heavy sigh, regaining your attention.

        With your eyes on him, he's suddenly ten times more reluctant to continue. But he sets his jaw, he sits up straighter. His hand, the organic one, reaches across the table, in an attempt to mimic your forgiving gesture in his office earlier. You stare at it for a moment and Rhys heart stops in his chest. But then, gingerly, your arm lifts, and your place your hand in his. His fingers come to tighten around yours. 

        "I'm gonna be honest. No more lying, or hiding things from you. So I'll start by telling you that Zer0 is outside the building."

        He waits for you to snatch your hand away, to stand up outraged and storm away from the table, right back out the door. He feel him almost brace himself. But you don't move. 

        "I'll hear you out, Rhys," you say, voice still low. "But I'm not going to make any promises that I can just magically forgive you, or we can go back to how things were, no matter what you say. To be honest, I'm not even sure how I feel right now."

        "Of course, of course," he says, just sounding happy you haven't stomped off yet. "But you deserve an apology. So here it is. I'm sorry, (Y/N). I really am. It was a mistake to ask Zer0 to interrogate you like that. It was a mistake to ever doubt your faith in Atlas, in me. I know you haven't been with me long, but I honestly don't know how I would have stayed sane lately without you around. You're..."

        Your work at Atlas is important to me. Say that.

        "You're important to me," Rhys says finally. "Which is why I couldn't risk losing you if Maliwan was still...well, y'know, in the picture."

        You're quiet for a moment. His hand's warm around yours. You've made no motion to pull away. 

        "I have a question for you," you say.

        "Yes, anything," Rhys says, practically halfway across the table, he's leaning in so intently. 

        "If I had been a traitor, er, a Maliwan spy...what would you have done?" The question had been burning in the back of your mind. 

        Rhys hadn't even stopped to think about that. Maybe it's because even when he gave Zer0 the order, he hadn't imagine Zer0 would come back with anything suggesting you actually were a traitor. That made him feel bad again. He should have trusted his gut...he shouldn't have questioned you. 

        "I...I'm not sure. I wouldn't have had Zer0 hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. I think..." What would he have done? "I think I would have tried to figure out why. Why you were still working with Maliwan. Wh-which you aren't! I know that! But I would have figured that maybe they were blackmailing you, or-or threatening to hurt you, or something."

        Your head tilts. "Why?" For the first time that night your gaze meets his again and he feels relief thrum through him.

        "Because I still wouldn't want to lose you," Rhys said firmly. He gives a bit of a laugh. "No, I wouldn't give you back to Maliwan that easily, c'mon now. Who'd bring me all my bagels with the extra cream cheese and coffee and whatever stupid thing I'm craving if you weren't around?"

        Your shoulders also move in a bit of a laugh. You know that you do more for him than that. He knows it too. But he doesn't have to mention all that. 

        Rhy's thumb strokes over the back of your hand. "And...y'know when I first found you, hiding under my desk--which is where I was going, by the way--I figured...something tells me you were just as afraid as I was. Even if you'd been sent there to definitely kill me on sight. I don't think you'd secretly work for a corporation that scares you that much when there's a better option. Atlas is wayyy too nice to betray, right?"

        You give him a half smile. 

        "Okay, Rhys, you don't have to keep going. That...hearing that makes me feel a little better," you admit. 

        Your chosen drink and Rhys's wine arrives at the table. When he offers you a glass as well, you accept almost immediately. His apology, although initially hard to start, seemed to set your mind more at peace. You seemed to relax more, especially after a few more glasses of wine. Before long, the two of you are laughing and talking like you used to, over various plates of food that he's pretty sure neither of you will finish. Leftovers...nice. His suite's pretty barebones when it comes to fridge content because of how busy he'd been lately. 

        He had not known before offering you as much wine as you wanted that you were a bit of a lightweight. He realizes when he signals for a check from the waiter that the night may get a little more interesting. Especially when you were hanging on his cybernetic arm, finally outside the restaurant. It's difficult to keep an eye on you, the to go bag, and trying to pin down a ride all at once. 

        He manages and makes sure you gets into the car safe first. As he settles down next to you with a sigh, he glances over at you. You already look half asleep. He'd hate to wake you up, you look so peaceful...He turns his head to give the driver instructions but finds his words stuck in his throat. 

        He realizes he has zero idea where you actually live. “Uh…..”         Guess you could just come home with him? You’re practically asleep on his shoulder already, head leaned into the crook of his neck.

        He tries to stay as quiet as he can for the ride over, not wanting to wake you until he absolutely has to. You naturally come out of it when the car rolls to a stop outside the building. You don't really ask any questions as he guides you in with him. Either you're too tired, or you don't care enough to ask what's going on. Rhys feels a glow in his chest. Which means maybe you trust him again...? For real? Not in the fake, amicable way from before?

        Rhys shoulders open the door to his suite for you. He momentarily abandons the food from the restaurant on the marble countertop. He brings you to the first place he can think of, or at least the safest, the bedroom. Like you think it's your own room, you collapse onto the bed yourself, without any further prompting from him. 

        "Man, remind me not to go drinking with you," he mumbled, throwing some of the covers over you. "You get sleepy wayyyy too fast." 

        His response is just an unintelligible mumble. For a moment, he sits on the edge of the bed as you nuzzle into the pillow--his pillow. Somewhere in your mind, you wonder faintly why your bed smells like Rhys for some reason. His weight shifts, an attempt to leave. The couch in the living room is plenty comfortable. And so is his chair and his desk back in his office if he doesn't sleep well tonight. 

        He hears the covers shift. He feels your fingers suddenly wrap around his wrist, gently tugging him back to the bed.

         “(Y/N),” he starts, but he sees the way your eyebrows furrow, like you’re in pain. Much different from the peaceful mini-nap you had been taking on his shoulder in the backseat of the car.          “Please... don’t leave me here alone,” you say softly, eyes still shut. “I don’t... I don't wanna be alone.”         He barely catches the last bit your slurring is so bad, but his mind quickly catches up and connects the dots. Slowly, Rhys settles back down onto the bed. You keep pulling at him and with a sigh, he gives in fully, laying down next to you. A bit clumsily, your arms wrap around him completely. He lays, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as your hand rests on his shoulder, arm splayed put over his chest. You’ve turned on your side, face pressed to his arm.

        Rhys is careful not to move the entire night, although he can't help dozing off a few times. He doesn't even know how it's possible to do that with the way his heart is racing in his chest. This...this isn't usually what he has in mind during his weaker moments where he can't help but picture you here, on his bed, with him. He finds his hand reaching up to grasp yours on his shoulder, holding gently overtop. Not wanting to move and wake you up, he manages to turn off the lights, from the bed. The perks of keeping his cybernetics and ECHO eye in such a high tech city, he supposes. The curtains pull, as if compelled, completely shut, to block out any further intrusive light. 

        Was this professional by any means?

        No.

        But then again, he thinks, gazing down at you, ECHO eye allowing him to see slightly in the darkness... when has he ever really cared about professionalism?

        When you eventually wake, you feel like you just had the best sleep of your entire life. No screaming no nightmares, no clench of fear in your chest, no waking in a cold sweat. Could have been the alcohol, but it also could have been that you're not alone in the bed-...Wait a minute, where the fuck are you? Your fingers are resting on something, someone else’s shoulder. Your heart seizes in your chest. The last thing you remember was drinking with Rhys…his apology…wait.         Slowly and tentatively, in the pitch black room, your other hand, the one that had been placed on his chest slowly drifts up to touch over a cheek.

        You bite the inside of your own cheek, letting your hand travel slightly down until you feel thick hair under your fingertips, and a soft upper lip—it’s definitely Rhys.         What the fuck is wrong with you? You both get drunk and the first thing you do is fuck him?! Completely unprofessional. Would you even be able to look him in the eyes ever again after this?! This was the exact thing you'd always been trying to avoid in Maliwan. It was all too easy to sleep with a boss open enough to the idea and get an easy promotion through that--you'd always sworn you'd never be one of those girls, as lucky as they were. And you'd especially sworn to yourself that you wouldn't do that with Rhys, even if he was cute and funny in that weird way and-

        Jesus Christ.         You suddenly feel a warm hand grasp over yours, the non-mechanical one. Rhys moves your hand down, hesitating over his lips briefly, before he decides it’s safer to just hold it at his chest again. He’s still wearing his shirt from the night before. His tie isn't even undone. Which means…you think about all the various ways you could have had sex…which means absolutely nothing. But…your underwear is still in place and your dress is only askew because you had likely shifted in your sleep.         It’s like he can read your mind.         “We didn’t do anything,” Rhys says, voice a bit rough from just having woken up. “You just…I was gonna go sleep on the couch, but you said you didn’t wanna be alone.”         Your face heats with embarrassment. You said that to him?         “Oh…sorry. I just…” You trail off. Just because he'd been honest with you last night doesn't mean you owe him the same thing. You don’t want to tell him that every night when you go to sleep you have to relive Maliwan. You don’t want to let him know that there’s a personal hell waiting for you every time you close your eyes outside the workplace. You don't want-         “Why don’t you wanna be alone?” Rhys finds himself asking, interrupting your quickly spiralling train of thought. “Maybe it was just a drunk thing but-“         “Every time I go to sleep I’m back, working for Maliwan, people dying all around me,” you find yourself confessing anyways, like you can't help it. Like you're possessed by some obligance. “It’s awful. I kinda thought it would stop after awhile but it…I dunno.”         Rhys shifts a little. You think he might be looking at you. You see his pale blue ECHO eye glow a little in the darkness, fixed on you.         “Did it help last night? I mean, me staying?” he asks.         You nod. “Yeah. It did.” There’s really nothing else you can say to him.

        You can't see it in the dark, but Rhys frowns. Every time you close your fucking eyes you’re back, in the middle of a battle, being shot at? Being miserable because of your former corporation? And it follow you even today? It still haunts you? And here he was making an assassin go interrogate you, thinking you were going to betray him and go back to Maliwan?         He could not possibly feel sorry enough. He heaves a sigh, one that moves your hand on his chest with it.         “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I feel like even more of an idiot now. I had no idea-“         You shrug. “How could you? It’s not like I was sharing my dream journal with you over lunch.”         You have a…? He realizes you’re just making a little joke. Awkwardly, he stays quiet for a few more moments. You feel him squeeze your hand a little tighter to his chest.         “I…I wouldn’t mind if you did. I want that. Uh…”         The mental health of my employees is very important to me!         He could save himself now. He could bail on this whole stupid crush. He could keep this professional and just find someone else. But he just... can’t.         “I really really like you, (Y/N). And you don’t have to say it back or pretend to like me to so you can keep your job. You’ll always have a home at Atlast, with me, no matter what your answer is.”         You’re quiet for a few agonizing moments that feel like hours to Rhys with the way his heart is pumping. It's too early in the morning for this shit. At least he thinks it is. He actually has no idea what time it is. He feels you shift in bed, sitting up. Are you leaving? Already his heart begins to sink. He’s glad it’s dark in here so you can’t see how red he is. He breathes out a soft sigh, shutting his eyes momentarily. You see his ECHO eye’s light disappear. At least he’d finally said something. At least-         He suddenly feels your lips at the corner of his mouth.         “Sorry, I missed,” you murmur, a bit embarrassed. “It’s dark in here.”         Rhys can’t help but take your chin in his hand, adjusting your position so he can kiss you fully on the lips. The first is light, experimental at most. The kind of thing you can wave off as a mistake and walk away from. The second kiss… not so much. It's passionate, deep, your lips moving against his, like you want him in his entirety. Such a desperate, lonesome kind of need...the nature of your feelings towards him becomes just a little clearer to Rhys right then. 

        He’s breathless when you pull away, chest rising and falling somewhat quickly.         “So…I’m guessing that means you like me too?” He asks, a hopeful twinge in his voice.

        You fall back into the mattress, at his side, hand still grasped in his. You have no intention of pulling it away. With a sigh, you respond.         “You have no idea.”

[sehtoast]

A Good Punishment is its Own Reward (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+

Word count: 2k

Fic Directory

Summary: Homelander doesn't take too kindly to being smacked on the ass- in public, at least.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, semi-public sex, getting weird with the web holes again, spit

Reader is written as a trans man but is kept gender neutral save for two or so gendered terms. Reader is written in the spirit of my spidersona oc

You knew not to tease.

After all, it was like dangling meat in front of a tiger that’d been starved. But, in the end, could you really complain? Once the aches had faded and he settled against you, could you really complain?

Not at all.

That’s why, as the meeting of The Seven adjourned and Homelander walked past, you took a quick swat at his ass.

The look he gave you sent a chill down your spine, tingling in your core. It wasn’t like you did it when the team would see.

“Hehe,” you chuckle. “Sorry babe, it’s just looking extra smackable today.”

He approaches you in a slow gait, hands behind his back, leather gloves creaking with the restraint he was so carefully exercising. Despite your own superpowered strength, he has you at his mercy in a fraction of a moment. A gloved hand gripping your neck, tilting your gaze up to meet his.

Those beautiful blue eyes that took you back to the clear, summer skies of your youth– that warmed you all the same.

“What, exactly, made you so bold today, hm?” John purrs, teeth bared as though he meant to threaten his prey.

You’ve nothing to say as his free hand snakes down the length of your spandex covered body, moving to press his palm against your heat.

“I could smell how fucking wet you were during the entire meeting…” Homelander murmurs in your ear, breath hot against your flesh as he blows on it. His hand remains at your neck, squeezing to punctuate his words. “Do I really work you up so much? You want me so badly that even corporate bullshit gets you soaked? So long as it’s coming out of my mouth?”

He relishes the way the emotive lenses of your mask mimic the way your eyes widen, though he finds it infinitely more delightful to utilize his x-ray vision to peer through to your reddened cheeks, the way you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You nod breathlessly, and he’s upon you immediately, tearing the mask from your head, tongue parting your lips, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through your suit.

You moan into his mouth, hips bucking toward him for more.

“John…” you whine, and you feel his lips curl into a devilish grin.

He nibbles at your lip, and suddenly you’re being manhandled onto the conference table, his hands splaying across your upper body, thumbing at the spider emblem on your chest.

“I think you owe me, now…” He growls. “For taking without asking.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You bite your lip, cunt clenching around nothing as his words settle deep in your core.

He stands expectantly, hands on his hips as he waits for you to pay what you owe.

Your hands are at his belt immediately, dropping the metallic article to the floor without care– for you’re far more invested in stripping his pants away. You slip your hand between the band of his red briefs, simply taking him in a hold for a moment as you wrap your arm around his neck to tug him in for a kiss.

Your tongues dance as you begin to stroke, his cock twitching in tandem with his little moans. It’s enough to drive you insane, but you’ll find your sanity once more when he’s had you in every way he wants– every way you want.

"You like that, don't you baby?" You whisper in his ear teasingly.

His hand is at your neck again, and your breath catches.

“Maybe we should put your mouth to good use,” he rasps, tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear. “On your knees, little spider…”

You obey, hopping off the table to kneel before him as he shimmies his pants and underwear to his ankles.

“That’s it…” he groans as you grasp him, tongue darting out to swirl the bead of moisture from the head of his cock.

Your free hand strokes at his thigh, the softness of your touch mixing with the heat of your mouth as you take him in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you swallow every inch of him. He hisses, and your pride swells.

As does your audacity.

You trail your hand along the curve of his ass, then swat it down in a sharp smack, gripping a handful of the soft flesh to knead.

Your hands are trapped in his grip in seconds, and a leather glove has you snatched by the hair, pulling your head impossibly closer until your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock and you’re gagging around him.

“Thought you’d be fucking cute with that, huh?” He snarls, hips snapping forward to fuck your throat. The hand in your hair jerks your head back and forth, using you to his heart’s content, groaning with each deep stroke.

“Gonna make you regret it,” he promises with a sly smile, ripping you off his cock to stare at him with your lidded eyes, drool dripping off your chin. “Look how fucking messy you are for me. Can’t get enough, can you?”

He grips his cock with the hand that previously held yours captive, and he smacks the length of it on your cheek, dragging it across your lips to paint your face with your own spit.

Your tongue darts out, desperate for his taste once more, but he pulls your head back, cock just out of reach of your wet muscle.

“Bad boys don’t get what they want. Only I get what I want.”

Suddenly, he’s dragging you up from where you knelt, hands seeking out the zippers to your suit– somehow patient enough to strip you properly. He took you in another kiss, strings of your saliva connecting you as you parted.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands.

So you do, and he’s using his grip in your hair to tilt your head back to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You obey, gulping loudly, and the devious look on his face only becomes more wicked.

“Such a fucking slut,” he praises as he works your suit down your body. “Look how fucking wet you are.”

He’s right, too. As he pulls your underwear down, your arousal clings to your clothes.

You want to say something quippy, to tease him, but your thoughts melt away as his leather clad fingers swipe through your folds, dragging your wetness up to your engorged clit. Your head falls back, and he’s nibbling at your neck, licking and sucking marks onto you– claiming you.

“All for me,” he lilts, tongue dragging up the column of your neck. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, hands gripping in his hair, tongue painting your flesh like a brush on canvas. “Yours…”

As the word leaves your mouth, his fingers sink into you, curving right away to find that spot that drives you fucking wild. His fingers squelch each time he drags them out and slams them back in, fingerfucking you with delight as he watches how your face contorts in bliss.

“Johnny!” You cry out as the pressure builds, hips bucking to chase the sensation, almost there, almost–

“N-No!” You whimper as his fingers leave you, and he’s chuckling.

“Didn’t I tell you? Bad boys don’t get what they want.” He shoves you back to lay on the table, hands gripping your wrists to thumb at your spinnerets.

You yelp at the sensation, still infinitely grateful for his fascination with your previously undiscovered erogenous zone.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Homelander asks, leaning over you with predatory eyes and mussed hair. You swear you see a flash of red in his pupils as he licks the tip of one of his sharp teeth. “Do you deserve to have me fuck you?”

You nod furiously, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in against his own strength.

“Please…”

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, dipping the tip of his tongue into your widened spinneret, making you howl, your back arching as the sensation shot straight down to your cunt.

“I could take you apart so fucking easily,” he proclaims proudly. “I could have you any way I want.”

Homelander rocks his hips, sliding the length of his cock up and down your slit. You can see the way his control falters for a moment, pleasure clouding his focus. His brow furrows and his expression softens, and you seize your chance.

“C'mere…” You coo.

As he leans down, you nudge your forehead against his.

“I love you so much, y’know…” Your eyes shut, and you plead through your needy haze. “I need you, baby. I need to feel you in me."

Always so brittle when it comes to affirmations of love, Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead and grips himself, the head of his cock nudging at your sopping entrance.

"Mm," you hum, leaning up to kiss him properly. "Please, Johnny. Please take care of me…"

You can practically see the nickname push him over the edge, and he sinks inside in one push. You swear you can feel him throbbing between your walls, his little moans quivering in the air.

"Damnit," he groans as he bottoms out, gritting his teeth to stave off his release. As he takes a moment, you reach for his hands, slipping the gloves off, exposing him to the world.

To you.

He moves to lean over you, peering down with something utterly carnal in his eyes as he starts to move.

His thrusts start slow, mind still addled from your declaration of love. It always was the most perfect way to pull him back to earth.

You grip at his forearms, his hands grabbing you firmly by the waist as he lets loose, pace increasing by the second until he's driving into you like a madman.

"Fuck!" you hiss, your body jostling with every thrust. Your mind hazes, and you submit to however he wants to use you– pleased that you got what you wanted.

His grip leaves your waist, slender fingers wrapping around your throat, a palm over your mouth to quiet you.

He doesn’t quite know why he stifled your noises, only that the sick sense of control he got from it brought him to the brink. To know he could control you, down to even the sounds you made, was nothing short of fucking ecstacy.

“The only thing,” he pants, “I want to hear out of that fucking mouth is my name. Do you hear me?”

You nod, eager to please him. As he lets go, you make sure the first thing you do is moan his name into the air like a prayer.

“Mmm, fuck!” He pounds into you, fingers traveling down to toy with your clit. He spits on it, using his saliva as lube to glide across that tender bud, relief coming to him as you throw your head back.

“John, oh f– I’m gonna–”

You clench around him, vision tunneling as he keeps the pace with both his hips and fingers. You cry out, each breath spent on his name as you crest higher and higher, bliss overtaking every molecule of your body.

You feel him coming deep inside of you before anything else. Before the whimpers of your own name meet your ears, before his head falls down to rest in the crook of your neck as he ruts through the waves of his orgasm. He’s warm, his breath is hot, and the cock twitching and spurting inside you is delicious.

You come down from your haze first, and you take the time to press a kiss to the side of his head.

“Heh,” you breathe a laugh. “Maybe I should smack your ass more often…”

Despite his groan, you feel him smile against your neck. “Keep it up, and you’ll get much worse.”

You pull him impossibly closer, limbs wrapped around him as his body lays limp against you. Above, Homelander finally cracks, and a lighthearted laugh leaves him. His fingers card through your hair, and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Babe, if that’s your threat, I’m gonna do it as soon as we stand up!”

He can hardly wait until you get the bright idea to spank him again.

[inklings-challenge]

Inklings Archive Dive: 2023 Time Travel

Welcome to the Inklings Archive Dive! Today, we’re exploring the time travel stories written by the members of Team Tolkien during last year’s Inklings Challenge. In 2023, writers included at least one of the seven traditional corporal works of mercy as a theme in their stories: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, clothe the naked, visit the sick, visit the imprisoned, bury the dead. If you’d like to read some of the stories you might have missed, or revisit any favorites, you can check them out with the links below.

2023 Team Tolkien Time Travel Stories

Welcome to the Inklings Archive Dive! Today, we’re exploring the portal fantasy stories written by the members of Team Lewis during last year’s Inklings Challenge. In 2023, writers included at least one of the seven traditional corporal works of mercy as a theme in their stories: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, clothe the naked, visit the sick, visit the imprisoned, bury the dead. If you’d like to read some of the stories you might have missed, or revisit any favorites, you can check them out with the links below.

An Acceptable Sacrifice by @afairmaiden (unfinished): Part 1, Part 2

The Burial of Ward Thornton by @maltheniel

Clad in Justice and Worth by @queenlucythevaliant

Day in A Life by @clarythericebot (unfinished)

The Lasting Memory by @rachellesedai: Part 1, Part 2

The Night Shepherd by @angedemystere (unfinished)

The Time Sea by @thegreenleavesofspring

Time to Heal by @plainshobbit (unfinished)

To All Generations by @shakespearean-fish (unfinished)

Untitled by @on-noon

Untitled by @rowenabean

If you read and enjoy, let the author know with a reblog or a comment! Now go forth and read!

[drabbles-mc]

Second Time Around

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Jake "Hangman" Seresin Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC Roman

Summary: With the way that everything ended, Jake knew that he had no right to start getting jealous now. The whole mess was on him in a way, anyway. That logic, however, didn't stop the jealousy from creeping into the back of his mind when he heard about Bradley moving onwards and upwards.And, just like everything else with the two of them, trying to figure out where to go from here wasn't nearly as easy as either of them wanted to be. They just had to hope that it was all going to work out in the end.

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, jealousy, angst (with a happy ending), breakups & makeups

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: I wrote this for Fic in a Box 2023 and I absolutely became obsessed with the ride this fic took me on while writing it. I also fell in love with my OC so idk maybe I'll keep him around and put him in other fics lmao. Hope y'all enjoy!

Top Gun Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion

Everyone was finally at a point where they could hang out together on a regular basis again. There was a hot minute there when everyone was being sent off in different directions. And if that wasn’t the problem, there was also the issue of the fallout between Bradley and Jake. It was the risk anyone ran when they decided to get involved with someone they worked with. Only thing was, it wasn’t as though they were all just stuck in some corporate office together. They were on-base, in the barracks, flying out on missions together. There was no time or space for hard feelings, but somehow the two of them still managed.

So it was hard fought and well earned time together at the end of the week, everyone at The Hard Deck together without it being an issue. It was easier now than it had been a few weeks prior, things getting incrementally less tense as the days ticked by. Some of that was because everyone was too busy training for the next mission, but also the farther the two of them got away from the less than amicable ending of their relationship, the easier it got to at least be civil with each other.

They hardly ever talked directly to each other if they weren’t on base and under explicit instruction to be working together in some capacity. When they were all together and out the way that they were, they always kept a little bit of distance. Everyone else was also merciful enough to run interference, even if they didn’t realize that they were doing it.

“Alright, alright,” Bradley threw his hands up in surrender as he stepped back from their crew who were all sitting gathered around the pool table, “I know, next round on me.”

“Don’t forget to get yourself one, too,” Natasha joked as Bradley pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

Before Bradley could get too far, Jake stepped in. “I got it.”

Bradley hated the way that he instantly felt his jaw clench, but he couldn’t stop himself. “It’s fine. I can—”

“You get the next one.” There was the same smug look on his face that he always had, like he wasn’t thinking about or worried about everything that had happened—like it didn’t faze him at all anymore. “Back up on your perch, Rooster,” he said as he clapped Bradley on the shoulder and passed by him.

Natasha saw the look on Bradley’s face, the tightness in his jaw and shoulders. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking about doing. Don’t take the bait.” She paused. “You know how he is.”

Bradley scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

When Jake got up to the bar, Penny was already there waiting. “How many this time, Hangman?” Penny asked, leaning against her side of the bar.

He flashed her the same charming grin that he always did. The same one that she never bought into but still accepted without comment. “Another seven, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded as she grabbed the bottle opener and started plucking bottles to open for everyone, “You playing nice over there?”

He chuckled, holding his hands out like he couldn’t believe that she would suspect otherwise of him. “I’m always playing nice.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, smiling but letting him know that she wasn’t buying what he was trying to sell. “If you say so.” She set the bottles down on the bar-top. “Let’s keep it that way, alright?”

He nodded, flashing her a wink as he gathered the bottles in his hands. “Yes ma’am.”

Hangman made his way back to where the billiard table was. Bob was just starting to rack up for the next game when Jake started to pass out everyone’s beers. Bradley was second to last in the unofficial line. Jake held the bottle out to him.

“Little liquid courage before you lose another game to Bobby over here,” he said, nodding back over his shoulder at the man in question.

Bradley shook his head as he tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m good. I gotta go, actually.”

Confusion went over Jake’s face, but before he could say anything Natasha beat him to the punch. “Really? That much of a sore loser?” she joked.

“No, no,” he shook his head with a laugh, “not this time.”

When Natasha saw the small grin starting to pull at the ends of Bradley’s mouth, she knew exactly why he was ditching the rest of them. “Oh,” she said with fake exaggeration, “I see. Ditching the rest of us for date night. Got it.”

Bradley was laughing and for a split second he forgot about the fact that Hangman was still standing right beside him. “Don’t—”

“Tell Rome we all said hello,” she remarked with a slick grin.

“Yeah,” Bradley carefully maneuvered himself so that there was a little more space between him and Jake while also putting himself slightly closer to the door, “because I know he’s dying to hear from you.” He turned and looked at Jake. “Keep the beer—guess I’ll just owe you one.”

Jake fought to keep his expression from faltering but he managed it. “Guess you will.” He paused, and everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Much to everyone’s, including Jake’s, surprise, he wrapped it up with a sarcastic but simple, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Bradley scoffed quietly. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate all of them as Rooster finally started to make his departure for real. It was going to be a make or break moment for the rest of them that were staying. If no one said anything, there was going to be a long stretch of silence until someone tried to awkwardly break through it. So Fanboy took it upon himself to stop it before it go that bad.

“Better be home before midnight, Rooster!” He motioned to Natasha, more for everyone else’s benefit than Rooster’s, “Or we’ll sic Mom on you!”

Everyone was laughing, and Bradley was shaking his head as he continued his way out. They couldn’t see the look on his face, but they all knew each other well enough by that point to know what he looked like anyway.

Once Rooster was out the door and they were all settling back down into what they had been doing before, Hangman found himself standing beside Natasha. She had an idea of where all of this was about to go, and she was desperately wishing that she had tagged in to play the game with Bob before Fanboy stole the opportunity.

“Rome?” he finally asked as the two of them watched Bob break for the start of the game.

Natasha shook her head, not even bothering to look Hangman in the eyes. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“You announced it to the class,” he said as he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant as he took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. “I’m just following up.”

She wanted to make a comment about the fact that the rest of the class didn’t have any extra vested interest in Bradley’s love life, but she stopped herself from being that intentionally mean. “Follow up with Rooster. I’m sure he has more to say about it than I do.”

“How long—”

“Hangman. Stop.” They were both expecting her to sound angrier than she did. More than anything it almost sounded like she felt bad for him. Which was shocking for Natasha, and annoying for Jake. “You knew this was going to have to happen eventually. If you wanna talk about it,” she started to shift away from him, putting space to end the conversation as politely as she could manage, “you have his number.”

Rooster found himself practically bouncing on the balls of his feet outside the door of Roman’s apartment. He had the bag with their takeout in one hand as he reached forward and knocked with the other. It felt different, not bad, not strange, just different, to be starting the night off in the position instead of ending it there.

The first couple times it was just Rooster dropping him off. A kiss in the doorway, lingering and stretching out the goodbye to be longer than it necessary so that he wouldn’t turn and go back to his car, back to his own apartment. After a few more dates Bradley would go inside. They’d both use the guise of “Just one more drink before you go” but they both knew that Bradley wasn’t going to be going anywhere once he stepped in and toed off his shoes. He’d wake up early in the morning, jostle Roman’s shoulder just enough to be able to say goodbye so it didn’t seem like he was just taking off.

But now he was here at the start of it all. He didn’t know why he had the jitters—it wasn’t like it was their first date, it wasn’t even his first time inside the apartment. But it felt good. Exciting in a way that was refreshing after everything else that had happened. He shook his head to dispel the thoughts before they could carry him too far away. This was a good thing. He was going to let it be a good thing.

He heard the chain, the flip of the deadbolt, and then the door was being pulled open from the inside. Roman stood there, leaning against the door he’d just opened with the same beaming smile he always greeted Bradley with.

“Hey,” Roman greeted him sounding like he was already out of breath, like he was still a little surprised by it all.

Bradley gave him an easy smile. “Hey.” He held up the bag of takeout, laughing as he said, “Your Doordash order has been delivered.”

“Wow,” Roman laughed as he opened the door a little wider and motioned for Bradley to come inside, “Don’t remember when the drivers got so hot.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, trying and failing not to laugh as he pushed the bag of takeout lightly into Roman’s chest. “Alright. Easy.” He was shaking his head as he toed off his shoes. “Also, definitely hoping that you’re not just letting anyone delivering food here come inside your apartment.”

“Not anyone,” he said as he passed by Bradley, bringing the food to the kitchen. “Just the cute ones.”

The evening was easy in a way that Bradley needed, a way that things had been consistently with the two of them. They sat at the small counter in Roman’s kitchen and ate their takeout while they each caught each other up on the day they’d been having. Bradley left a few key details out about what had transpired right before he showed up—there was no need to drag those skeletons out of the closet in that moment.

“You’d like Natasha, though,” he said with a nod as he reached over and stole a forkful of noodles from the takeout box in front of Roman.

All he could do was laugh and let him. “That’s Phoenix, right?”

He couldn’t hide the impressed look on his face. “Yeah.”

Roman gestured with his chopsticks as he spoke. “And she flies with Bob.” He chuckled. “Who is just Bob.”

“You got a corkboard with red string here that I should know about?” he asked jokingly.

Roman laughed and shook his head. “No. But, you know, you talk about them a lot—I try to remember.”

There was something so innocent about the admission that gave Bradley pause. He lightly tapped his fork against the flimsy cardboard that held his rice. Roman was already moving along to the next thing, unaware of the fact that the man sitting at the counter with him was trying his best to store that statement into his memory bank, the look on his face, the way he said it. It’d been a long time since someone had been so genuine, almost soft in a way—Bradley had sort of forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of that after so many months of highs and lows.

“Bradley?” Roman’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

“Hm?”

He chuckled. “I said next time we go out, you should invite them.”

Bradley laughed. “Natasha would lose her mind. She’s been about this close to tracking my phone and kicking down your door.”

The laugh that Roman let out made it seem like he was completely unfazed. “Should I get another lock, then?”

He shook his head. “Won’t matter.” He paused, finally getting himself to respond to what Roman’s initial suggestion had been. “But yeah, that’d be good—you meeting them, I mean.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have been letting himself get swept up in all of it. This was just supposed to be casual, fun. And while meeting Rooster’s friends didn’t inherently change that, it certainly could shift the trajectory just enough. It was too soon for something serious. Bradley knew that about himself at least. But Roman seemed so earnest, it seemed like more of a crime to not let it play out. Besides, in the back of Bradley’s mind he knew that the only way to really start moving on, was to let himself start moving on.

“My brother called today,” Roman said, forever just plugging right along to the next thing.

“Oh, yeah?” Bradley tucked back into his dinner now that it was his turn to listen instead of talk. “How’d that go?”

Bradley was more than content to sit there and listen to Roman ramble on about his brother. It was a nice change of pace, listening to someone talk about people and things that had nothing to do with the Navy, nothing to do with Top Gun. Roman talked about his work, about his brother and the girl that his brother was dating, who apparently neither of them liked very much. Bradley couldn’t help but to laugh at some of the things that he was saying, the way that he’d point and click his chopsticks together when he got really into a story. Roman was funny, his humor less harsh than the people Bradley spent most of his time around. Another nice change of pace.

Dinner was long since done and over with. Their silverware was discarded into Roman’s sink, the takeout containers all tossed into the garbage. Roman had made a joking comment about he was a fan of the whole, “No dishes,” thing even when they were staying in.

They were halfway through a movie, comfortably tangled up together on Roman’s couch. Bradley had one arm around his shoulders, Roman’s head resting against his chest, their legs layered up in a way that would probably take actual effort to unravel. Bradley’s other hand was tucked behind his head as he leaned comfortably back into the couch cushions. It was an easy night, a mid-budget movie, both he and Roman spending just as much time trying to figure out where they knew all the actors from as they spent actually paying attention to the plot of the film.

Another ten minutes went by and they gave up on focusing completely, Roman’s lips pressing against Bradley’s jaw putting the final nail in the coffin. Neither of them would have even known the movie wrapped up if it hadn’t been for the drastic change in volume as Netflix started playing the trailers of other movies that they could watch next. All they could manage to do was laugh quietly about it.

“I gotta head out,” Bradley mumbled, not sounding overly committed to it even though it was the truth.

Roman heard the lack of commitment in his voice and didn’t waste a second capitalizing on it. “Doesn’t really sound like you do.”

Bradley chuckled. “I know, I know. But I do. I told you,” he let Roman steal a kiss in an attempt to distract him since it had worked so well before, but he continued on anyway, “We got that training exercise tomorrow.”

“It’s not that far from here,” he tried to rationalize.

With the way that his fingers were creeping up underneath the fabric of Bradley’s shirt, he almost found himself giving into it. Shaking his head, Bradley forced himself to take a hold of Roman’s wrist before he got too carried away. “Soon,” he tried to compromise, albeit vaguely. He could see it on Roman’s face that he wasn’t convinced. “Next time,” he haggled.

It was enough, getting Roman to drop his feigned questioning expression as he smiled and nodded. “Yeah, alright. That’s fair.”

“Just, you know,” Bradley gave him a brief kiss before starting the work of untangling himself, “place another Doordash order.”

Roman laughed as he finally let him up from the couch. “That won’t take long then.”

It wasn’t until Bradley finally got home and flopped into bed at the end of the night that he checked his phone. Most of the notifications he just swiped away. Some he knew he would ignore for now and get to in the morning, others he knew he would still be ignoring in the morning as well. He was hardly paying attention to what any of them said until he saw the text from Hangman come in. Why Jake was texting him at nearly one in the morning, Bradley didn’t know. But he knew that it probably wasn’t anything good. Still, he opened it.

“Hope the date went well”

Bradley didn’t even realize he was letting out a sigh until he was out of breath to exhale. He stared at the phone as he propped it up against his chest. It was the first text either of them had sent in a long time. It’d been an even longer time since one of them had said something to the other that didn’t have to do with work. If Bradley knew that he wasn’t going to have to see Jake in a few hours, he would block his number like he did with every other ex and be done with him. But it wasn’t that simple with the two of them. It never had been, and apparently never would be.

He was tempted to reply. He could reply and be honest, rub salt in the wound and say how great the date had gone. He wondered if Jake would have anything to say to that. Maybe he’d come back with something cutting and sarcastic. Maybe something sincere enough to try and get Bradley to feel bad. The thought also crossed his mind to reply with something cruel. They were past that for the most part but if someone had asked Bradley on any given day, he’d say that he still deserved a few more good jabs as emotional compensation about it all.

He could have said any number of things and he would’ve been well within his rights on all of them. Instead, though, he said nothing. He reread the message a few more times, scrolled back and reread some of their older texts because apparently he was still a glutton for emotional punishment, and then he locked his phone screen for the night. As he forced his eyes to shut, he couldn’t help but to wonder why Hangman texted him, or why he waited so long to text him. Was he thinking about it ever since Bradley left The Hard Deck? If he was trying to ruin the date he could’ve called in the middle of it, thrown a wrench into the plan. But he didn’t. Instead he just sent a short text in the middle of the night, leaving Bradley to spin out about it until he fell asleep. Which, he thought to himself as he was finally about to pass out, might’ve been Jake’s goal all along.

When he woke to the sound of his absurdly early alarm that morning, all he could do was groan and blindly reach around for his phone to try and turn it off. He held it in his hand, draping his arm over his face to cover his eyes, like that would block out the light coming in from the cracks in his blinds, block out all of his responsibilities for the day that he was already thinking about. He was still laying in the exact same position when his second alarm went off and earned yet another groan from him. But this time he at least got out of bed.

Bradley was in the middle of putting his things into his locker when he heard someone else walk into the room. He kept a look out in his peripheral. From the lack of a greeting alone he had a fairly good idea of who it was. He was fully planning on not saying anything to him about any of it—it wasn’t anyone else’s business anyway. But when he swung the door of his locker shut, Hangman was posted up right on the other side.

The smirk that Jake had on his face had Bradley wondering if he even remembered sending the text. Then again, shame hadn’t ever really been in Hangman’s repertoire. “Bradshaw,” he said and nodded in greeting.

He didn’t even want to entertain the conversation. “Later, Hangman.”

Bradley was halfway out the door when Jake spoke up again. “Didn’t hear back from you last night—was starting to think you didn’t wanna cop to bad news.”

He stopped in his tracks, resting one hand on the doorframe. His head dropped, chin tucking towards his chest as he let out a sigh of defeat. He knew that he wasn’t going to get out of this without having to say something.

Forcing himself to turn back around and face Jake, he said, “Not bad news. Just not news I want to talk to you about.” He shook his head. “Don’t know why you’d want to hear it anyway. Why you’d even care.”

“Just wondering who was dragging you out of the little slump you found yourself in for a few weeks there.”

“Slump?” he repeated the word back, anger already shining through his tone.

“Something else you want me to call it?”

Bradley shook his head, trying to figure out where he even wanted to try and start with everything that had happened within the last twelve hours with the two of them. He was originally just upset about the text. But within the span of twenty seconds Jake had given him a whole slew of new things to also be angry about. He didn’t have it in him to get into what the immediate fallout of their relationship had been like for him.

“You,” he shook his head, “you don’t get to text me about my dates. You don’t get to tell me that you hope it went well, you don’t get to ask me how it went. All of that stuff? Officially none of your fucking business.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up, surprised that Bradley was so quick to anger even though it shouldn’t have been surprising at all. “Whoa, whoa,” he held his hands up in fake surrender, “I was just—”

“I don’t get why you care at all about how I’m doing. Or why you care about who I’m going on dates with or not. That’s not your business, not your problem anymore. You,” he scoffed, “made real sure of that.”

For a split second Jake’s façade faltered. He recovered quickly, and he couldn’t tell if Bradley didn’t pounce on the opportunity because he simply didn’t notice, or if it was because he really was just that desperate to be done with and out of the conversation. Either way, it took Jake longer than he wanted to admit to come up with something to say in response to that.

That hesitation was something that Bradley didn’t have any issue preying on. He continued on. “If I remember right, Jake, half the reason you ended things was because you didn’t want to care that much about dating me. You wanted to care so little, actually, that you didn’t even want to bother doing it at all anymore. So you left.”

“That’s not—”

“You walked out. Don’t get mad at me because the door got locked behind you.” There was a pause, both waiting for the other to speak. Finally Bradley did. “Don’t text me.”

It was the first time that Jake had looked anything close to defeated. He wanted to have a pithy remark, something to grant him the upper hand at the end of it all, but he came up dry. Instead he just nodded and let Bradley finally walk out of the room to go and join everyone else.

It was impossible to miss the anger that was written all over Rooster’s face. No one wanted to ask him about it, though—no one was feeling quite brave enough for that. All of the things they had to do were typically stressful enough without anything else adding to it, and yet someone was always finding a way to make it even more stressful. That someone was usually Hangman, and everyone could tell by the look on Rooster’s face that that was probably the case this time around too.

By the time that Hangman walked back into the mock classroom area where everyone else was sitting, he looked as unbothered as he ever had. The cocky smirk was right back on his face, which served multiple purposes but most importantly it made Bradley seem like he was being the dramatic one. It always seemed to end up going that way.

“Was it something I said?” he asked the room with a chuckle as he took his seat on the opposite half of the classroom from Rooster.

Once the day got underway, everyone’s personal feelings about each other fell to the wayside for the most part. They were all being pressed too hard about things that had much higher stakes than exes and dates gone wrong. It served its purpose for getting everyone to tolerate each other for the day. But then, when the lessons were done and the exercises all wrapped up, all the same old tensions came back. To make matters worse, the same tensions came back and now on top of that everyone was exhausted and frustrated about training on top of being frustrated about everything else that was going on.

And, all things being equal, it wasn’t really everyone this time around. It was just Rooster and Hangman. It almost always was.

“What happened?” Natasha asked when it was just the two of them walking inside from the tarmac, bringing up the back of the pack.

Bradley shrugged and shook his head, the expression on his face showing that he was trying to be unbothered about it all but the tension in his jaw was working against him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, fighting the urge to cuff him on the back of the head. “What the hell happened last night? You were practically skipping out of The Hard Deck.”

He scoffed. The image she painted was an amusing one but it wasn’t enough to undo his frustration. “Hangman say anything to you after I left?”

“Hangman is always saying things to me. Haven’t figured out how to get him to stop.”

“Trace.”

“He asked about Roman.”

Rooster shook his head. “Of course he did.” He paused, looking over at her as they walked. “What’d you say?”

She stopped a few steps from the doorway, not wanting to bring this conversation inside the echo chamber that all the buildings on base seemed to be. “I didn’t say anything. Told him that if he had questions, he should be asking you instead of me.” She waited for him to tell her what happened, and when he didn’t, she pressed him one more time. “Bradshaw, what did he say to you?”

He nodded towards the building. “Texted me at like one in the morning saying that he hoped the date went well.”

Natasha shook her head, knowing that even though it sounded perfectly harmless, it was the exact kind of thing Hangman would do to get inside Rooster’s head. “Bagman.”

“And then this morning—" Bradley started, but the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to replay the entire thing. Sighing, he asked, “What the fuck am I supposed to be doing about that?”

“Same thing the rest of us do when he’s being a dick—ignore him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“He does it because he knows that it gets to you. Don’t…don’t let it get to you.” She started walking towards the building again. “Did the date go well, though?” she shifted gears, a small smile starting to appear on her face as she attempted to lighten the mood.

It worked. Bradley fell back into stride with her again as they reached the door. He pulled it open for her as he responded, “It did, yeah.”

“When do I get to—”

“He asked the same thing,” he cut her off, chuckling because he already knew where the question was going.

“He did, huh? Wants to meet your friends?”

Bradley rolled his eyes despite the warmth rising in his face. “Don’t say it like that. Besides, I think he just wants to put faces to all the weird texts he’s seen pop up in the group chat.”

Natasha laughed. “Guess that means he’s gotta meet Fanboy too.” They shared a laugh about it as they got closer to the hall where their glorified locker rooms were. “When this starts to settle,” she said as they both paused in between the doors, “it’d be nice. We can go, you know, somewhere that’s not The Hard Deck.”

Bradley couldn’t help but to laugh as he shook his head at her. The suggestion was as genuine as it was sarcastic. “Probably smart, yeah.”

He was walking out to his car, toying with the keys in his hands. The last twenty-four hours playing on repeat in his head. He’d had a few precious weeks of status quo, and then suddenly all of this. He hoped that there wasn’t going to be anything that he had to do to get it all to quiet down again. Maybe Natasha was right, the way that she usually was, and all he had to do was ignore Hangman and he’d give up. Hangman wasn’t known for being a quitter, but Bradley also remembered the look on Jake’s face when they spoke in the morning. He hadn’t looked that hurt since the night they ended things and Bradley kicked him out of his apartment, and even then, Hangman had been the one causing most of the pain.

The shower Bradley had taken when he got back to his place was much longer than what was really necessary, but he felt a little better afterwards. It didn’t fix anything, but it didn’t hurt, either. He had his shorts on, was dragging the towel over his head to wick some of the water off his hair when he grabbed his phone off the charger on his nightstand.

He saw that he had one missed call from Jake. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that calling him back would be a bad idea, but his impulsiveness won out before he could try to rationalize himself out of it.

It rang twice before he picked up. “Was starting to think you blocked my number.”

“I might if you don’t stop—”

“Don’t lie to me like that, Bradshaw,” he replied, smug as ever. “You’re not good at it.”

He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “What do you want?”

“About earlier—”

“Don’t lie and say you’re sorry,” Bradley tried to save them both the breath of that argument. “We both know you’re not.”

“Wasn’t gonna apologize,” he replied honestly.

“Then, what?”

There was a beat of a pause. “You like him?”

Bradley let out a sigh that turned into an exasperated laugh. “You called to ask me if—”

“Yeah, I did.” It was the most earnest he’d sounded in a long time.

He carefully considered his answer. “I do, yeah.”

It was a small-scale blessing for both of them that they couldn’t see each other’s faces. Jake couldn’t hide the way Bradley’s admission gave him pause, and he didn’t think that he would’ve been able to play it off even if they’d actually been face to face.

“Okay,” he finally said.

Bradley dropped his face into the hand that wasn’t holding onto his phone. “Were you thinking I was going to say no? That this was all just some big show I’m putting on for you?”

Jake chuckled but even he couldn’t hide the sadness in the sound. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

“This wasn’t what I wanted, you know,” Bradley said. His voice grew heavier the more he spoke. “I didn’t want it to be like this. You did. You left. I don’t,” he huffed, “I don’t even think you really miss me.”

“Hey—”

“I think you’re just upset I’m not sitting around for you while you get your shit together. You expected me to just wait.”

“You always do.”

“Not always.” There was a long pause before Bradley spoke up again. “You lost this one. You always leave everyone behind.”

“I know,” he admitted, as much to his own surprise as it was to Bradley’s.

Bradley wanted to end the call. He wanted to hang up, block Jake’s number, and then put his phone through the garbage disposal regardless of how ridiculous of a notion it was. He shouldn’t have called back. He shouldn’t be listening to anything that Hangman had to say. He definitely shouldn’t have been letting the apparent sincerity in Jake’s voice put a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat. But there he was anyway, doing all of those things.

He cleared his throat hoping that it would make him sound more in-control of his emotions than he really was. “Why’d you even bother, then?” Bradley finally asked.

“With what?”

He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This felt like it was a conversation that they should’ve had months ago. Neither of them were all that great with time management. “Any of it. If you didn’t want to—” he cut himself off, trying to find the right way to say what he wanted to say, “If that wasn’t what you wanted I don’t get why you even bothered with me.” He heard Jake take a breath as he got ready to answer so he said one more thing before he lost the chance, “And I don’t get why you’re bothering with calling me now if nothing’s changed.”

“I didn’t want it to be like this either.” He could picture the indignant and hurt look on Bradley’s face even though there were miles and countless walls separating them in the moment. “I know this is on me but it doesn’t mean that I wanted it to go like that.”

Bradley had the gnawing feeling that he was just setting himself up for more heartache, but he still asked, “How did you want it to go?”

“I wanted to give you what you wanted!” Jake said, the most desperate and honest he’d ever sounded. He took a breath, getting control back over himself again. “But…I couldn’t.”

Bradley felt the tears stinging in his eyes and he tried to ignore them. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to that, what he should say to that. “Why are you digging all of this up, Jake?”

“This guy—”

“Roman,” Bradley cut him off.

“Roman.” Jake corrected himself. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Does he…does he give you what you want?”

Bradley didn’t even have to think about the answer. “He could.”

Jake paused, not expecting the answer to be so quick and easy. Maybe he waited too long. Maybe the second he let Bradley oust him from his apartment all that time ago he’d lost him for good. It crossed his mind that he should probably quit before he landed himself even farther behind than he already was. But then again, he also reasoned with himself, Bradley called him back. Bradley hadn’t hung up the phone, even as the silence between them stretched on far longer than what was comfortable for either of them.

“Do you want it from him?” Jake finally asked.

Bradley scoffed, trying to cover up the fact that he felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. “Jake.”

“I’m serious.”

The problem was that Bradley knew Jake was serious. This conversation would’ve been so much easier to get through, or to end abruptly, if he thought that Jake was still just trying to get a rise out of him like he had been before. They were both past that now. Honesty was so much harder—this was why they hadn’t had any real conversations in weeks.

“You made it clear,” Bradley chose each word carefully and it showed, “that I wasn’t going to get it from you. And just, just because you’re jealous now, just because you don’t want me to want someone else, doesn’t mean that you’d…” he trailed off, brain suddenly swinging on the pendulum between what had happened between them before, what might happen if they tried it all again.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“He’s good,” Bradley said as he shut his eyes tight. “He’s, fuck, he’s nice. And it’s easy and we don’t always end up fucking arguing every time something—”

“But?” Jake cut him off, knowing that the discussion was hurtling towards that point anyway.

“But he’s not you!” he snapped before he could stop himself. He sucked in a short, unsteady breath. “And that’s,” he let out a sad laugh, “that’s why he’s so nice and why we don’t argue. It’s why…it’s why he isn’t trying to make me give him less.”

“I didn’t want less from you.”

“You didn’t want more.”

“That’s not the same,” Jake argued. “I’m not used to being the one who’s trying to keep up.”

“And I’m not used to you being the one who quits.”

It hung heavily on the phoneline between them. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t make any move to hang up either. All the things that they’d said and yet they still felt like they were stuck in the same spot they had been. It felt like all of that should’ve changed something. Bradley wiped at the corners of his eyes, glad that he was the only one who knew about the tears.

“I’m sorry that—”

Bradley cut him off. “You don’t get to keep doing this to me. You don’t get to walk out on me and then try to claw your way back in because you’re jealous that I’m trying to move on. Putting me through this again. Especially if…”

“I know.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because...I wish it was different.”

“Well,” Bradley said, “it’s not. I don’t know if it ever could be.”

“Ever?”

He laughed but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Ball’s in your court on that one.”

It was Jake’s turn to laugh. The sound was a little less sad than Bradley’s. There was no good rebuttal. He could keep dragging the two of them around and around but it was still going to come back to the same conclusion. It was always going to be Hangman’s doing that they were in the scenario that they were, and it was always going to be on him to deal with however the cards fell because of that. He wished that he could tell Bradley that he was wrong, that he wasn’t jealous, that that wasn’t what sparked all of this. And maybe it wasn’t the only reason he was doing all of this, but it was definitely the final reason, the one that pushed him over the edge.

“Can I ask you something?” Jake asked.

Bradley chuckled, sounding a little more like his old self. “Would it matter if I said no?”

Jake gave a short hum of amusement before moving right into asking, “You think we could ever go a second round?”

He found himself letting slip a small smile at the casual way Jake phrased the question, like they hadn’t just dragged each other through the emotional wringer for the last stint of it all. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m seeing—”

“If you weren’t.” He could spot the deflection coming from a mile away.

Bradley sighed. “Maybe. If things could be different, then yeah, maybe a second round wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” A beat passed. “But things would have to be different.”

“Right.”

He waited to see if Jake had more to say than that. When he didn’t, Bradley finally said, “I’m going to bed.”

“And tomorrow?”

He fought the urge to sigh again—his lungs could only take so much. “Next training exercise.”

“Bradley—”

“Night, Hangman.”

He didn’t give Jake the chance to return the courtesy before hanging up the phone. Once he hung up, he stared down at the now-blank screen staring back at him. Pulling the towel off from around his shoulders, he tossed it aside and finally finished getting ready for bed.

When Bradley woke up the next morning, he expected to be exhausted, angry even, but he wasn’t. He felt a little rattled after his conversation with Jake the night before, but he wasn’t as spun-out as he thought he was going to be. As he got ready in the morning, he started to think to himself that perhaps he was dealing with everything better than he thought he was—not just their conversation, but everything else about the two of them as well. There wasn’t a knot in his gut the way there had been before. For a second, he thought that maybe even after all the heartbreak and the second-guessing there was the possibility that things were playing out how they were supposed to. There was the possibility that he was moving through things, or past them, in a way that he hadn’t been able to before.

Then, as he was walking out to his car, his phone buzzed with a text from Roman. That was all it took for the pit in his stomach to start growing again. Guilt started clawing at the back of his mind as he tried to think about what to say in response. It was a simple text—that wasn’t the issue. Up until now, Bradley had played coy about everything that had happened with Hangman. There hadn’t been much of a need to get into the details of the breakup, or who his ex was, not when it was just a casual thing. Now, though, they were slowly wandering out of casual territory. Not only that, but up until now it wasn’t as though he’d had any heart-to-hearts with Jake since he and Roman had started to see each other. It was easy to avoid talking about things when they were things that happened in the past. This was brutally, disgustingly present. He avoided it for now while he could, opting to slide his phone into his pocket and get into his car.

Despite the intensity of their conversation the night before, both Bradley and Jake were able to keep it civil, almost friendly throughout the day. It was the most normal that things had been in a long time. Everyone around noticed, caught between wanting to be thankful for a break from the antagonism and bickering, but also wanting to know what happened and how long this ceasefire was going to last.

“You did something stupid, didn’t you?” Natasha called after Bradley at the end of the day when he was walking to his car.

He stopped, head tilting back so he was looking up at the sky. He could dodge and avoid a lot of people, but never Natasha. She wouldn’t allow it. “What?” he asked, even though he’d heard her perfectly fine the first time.

“No, I know you did something stupid. I just don’t know the specifics.” She strode so that she was standing in front of him. “What stupid thing did you do?”

“I didn’t—”

“Tell me.”

He huffed, like a teenager on the brink of throwing a tantrum. “Hangman called.”

“And you definitely didn’t pick up, right?”

“I missed the call.” He saw the way that Natasha refused to let herself be relieved by that piece of information. “So I called him back.”

“Bradley.”

“Natasha,” he mocked. She didn’t say anything, just giving a wordless nod to prompt him to explain himself, so he tried. “Something told me to call him back.”

“Yeah, the under-developed part of your brain.”

He rolled his eyes and forged onward. “It wasn’t…bad.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Was it good?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Last time we talked, we decided that you needed to not speak to him anymore. How did it go from that to having late-night—”

“I miss him,” he said plainly.

She sighed, not completely unsympathetic to his plight. “I get it.” She pulled a face, remembering who it was that they were talking about. “Kind of, I guess.”

It got them both to laugh as Bradley said, “Shut up.”

“But it ended. Then it was hell for you and just about everyone else. And now you,” she gestured broadly at nothing, “you have Roman. And he wants to meet your friends. And twenty-four hours ago you wanted him to meet everyone. That’s good, Bradshaw. Why…just, why?”

“You think he could be different?” he asked.

She scoffed. “It clearly doesn’t matter to you what I think.”

He smiled. “Humor me.”

“People can change,” she finally said. “But it’s not usually that easy. Plus this is Hangman that we’re talking about. He is…exactly who he is.”

“You think he’s just dicking me around?”

“Not necessarily. He probably does miss you. Probably wants a second chance and wants to be better. Doesn’t mean he can pull it off.”

She wasn’t saying anything that he didn’t already know, hadn’t already thought about even long before his phone call the night before. It was different hearing it from someone other than himself—it sunk in a little more.

“Was hoping for something a little more positive,” he said, half-joking.

She shrugged. “Wanna hear something positive about Hangman? I’ll give you Machado’s number.” There was a beat before she asked, “What are you gonna do, Bradley?”

“I don’t know.”

She fought the urge to groan. As much as she didn’t want to say what she was about to, she couldn’t stand there and lie. “The fact that you’re even weighing the pros and cons of this…” She shook her head. “You gotta talk to Roman.”

“And tell him what?”

“That’s on you. But he likes you. And I know you like him. But if you’re really thinking about going back into all of that with Hangman…there is definitely a conversation that needs to be had there.”

“You think it’s a dumb idea?”

She offered a smile. “I think that something being a dumb idea hasn’t ever stopped you before.”

“Real nice way of saying yes.”

She laughed. “Look, you know who you’re dealing with here. If you think that it’s gonna be different, that it could actually work out and not drive you completely insane in the process, then okay. If it’ll make you happy, then okay. I would just think about it first. Don’t do this just because one conversation threw you off—even you aren’t that stupid.”

Bradley was smiling as he shook his head. “Right. Thanks.”

“Either way, though, you gotta talk to—”

“I know,” he said with a nod. “I will.”

Bradley said that he would, and he did. He sat with himself for another day, weighing over his options and the likeliness of different outcomes. He tried to be logical enough to weigh what he wanted to happen against what was most likely going to happen. He thought about Roman, and how fun and easy it all was. Then he thought about how new it all still was, too, comparatively. It was always fun and easy at the beginning, or at least it should be. And if he was at the point where things were still that new and enjoyable with Roman, but he was still finding himself contemplating if he could make things work with Jake, it felt like that was all the answer that he needed. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, really, for Bradley to try and drag it all out for the sake of hoping the feelings would go away. It would’ve been a much easier conclusion to come to if Roman hadn’t been so kind, and funny, and accepting. It would have been so much easier to follow through on what Bradley had to do next if he hadn’t enjoyed the company so much.

When Bradley turned up to his apartment a couple days later to have the conversation and deliver the verdict, he didn’t know what he expected to happen. He wasn’t expecting a fight, a screaming match—that didn’t seem like Roman’s style. He was hoping that things were still new enough, and that they were both mature enough, that it would be a disappointing but not a spiteful conversation. And it wasn’t—Bradley was fairly certain that Roman didn’t have a single ounce of spite in his body.

“I’m really sorry,” Bradley said as he sat back at Roman’s counter once more, forcing himself to look him in the eye even though he just wanted to stare at the floor instead.

The smile on Roman’s face was weak, but there was a genuine air about it too. “It’s okay—I get it.”

Bradley wasn’t used to things going so well with situations like that. Roman being so understanding about it all ironically made him feel worse about the entire fallout of it. He knew it was too soon to say that he wanted to stay in touch, to even try to be friends if it could all play out like that, but he also didn’t want to get up and leave without at least trying to get that point across. It wasn’t something that was going to happen immediately, but it’d been nice if it could happen eventually.

“I’m sorry. And I know you probably don’t—I just—I really do like you and if at some point—”

“Thank you,” Roman put him out of his misery as gently as he could.

Bradley sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Right. O-okay.”

It took a little bit for the weight to drop off his shoulders after that conversation. But he knew it was the right thing, which was why he was able to keep moving on from it without beating himself up too much over it. As the days went by it crossed his mind once or twice to reach out, but he knew that it wasn’t his place to do that, and that was okay. Maybe it would happen and maybe it wouldn’t. As it stood, he had plenty of other things to keep himself busy and occupied with.

He told Hangman what had happened a few days after the fact, once he’d had some time to sit with everything on his own. There was a moment when he wondered if he was going to say something about it directly, or if he was just going to let it come about naturally in conversation at some point. He knew that whenever, however, it came up, Jake was going to have some follow-up questions about it—that was what made him hesitate on breaking the news. Bradley didn’t know if he wanted to get into the reasons behind it all, if he was ready to open that door again.

But he ended up telling him. Of course he ended up telling him. In the back of Bradley’s mind, whatever Jake’s knee-jerk reaction to the news was, was going to give him an idea of where he was really at. It was easy to say and promise all sorts of things over the phone late at night when he was under no obligation to actually follow through on any of it. But now Jake was going to have to put his money where his mouth is, and Bradley was hoping that it would all work out, that Jake wouldn’t instantly fire back with something crass or sarcastic.

“Why’d that happen?” was all Jake said, face pensive, when Bradley told him that he decided to break things off with Roman.

The surprise on Bradley’s face was momentary before his expression grew serious again. He leaned against the closed door of his locker, also wondering for a split second why so many of their conversations had to happen there. “Because I think that, maybe, things could be different.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to look surprised. He even looked hopeful, which was a new look for someone who was so known for just looking cocky. “Yeah?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t just as simple as that, and neither of them thought that it would be. They took things slow, much slower than they had the first time around. Bradley thought that Hangman was just going to try and dive right back into things and hope for the best, but he didn’t. They were both still a little gun-shy about the entire thing, and rightfully so.

It was a lot of talking, having conversations that probably would have saved them the first time through if Jake had been ready to have them then. But he hadn’t. Then again, he was ready to have them now, or he was at least trying to be ready. It wasn’t all perfect, because it was still the two of them after all, but there was more effort being put in than there had been, and realistically that was all Bradley had been wanting the entire time.

Even with all of the late-night phone calls, the drop-in visits as they tried to navigate and rebuild a foundation that had been so shaken before, they still kept a small shred of distance. For once neither one of them had been brave enough, cocky enough, to try and cross that final threshold. There were opportunities, too, like when they were standing in the doorway of Bradley’s apartment and Jake was saying goodbye, or when they were the last two of their group still lingering at The Hard Deck even though they’d stopped drinking a while before.

They both knew they’d let it be a substitute, a band-aid, before, and they didn’t want to let it happen again. Once or twice Jake had been so tempted to make a snarky remark when he would see Bradley’s eyes drift to his lips, but he always stopped himself. It wasn’t like he had to say anything anyway for Bradley to know—he could tell by the cocky little smirk on Hangman’s face after the fact that he’d been caught. He didn’t say anything about that either.

Everyone was getting ready to leave The Hard Deck. It wasn’t exceptionally late, but they all knew that they were in for an early morning so they decided to quit while they were ahead. They all started saying their various goodbye’s and see you tomorrow’s as they split off in the parking lot. Natasha went to say goodbye to Rooster, noticing immediately that if she was going to do that, she was going to have to say goodbye to Hangman too considering how close they were standing to each other while they were talking by Rooster’s car. Part of her wanted to shake her head and roll her eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of the two of them, but even she couldn’t deny how different things had seemed between them, how much better. They seemed happier, even in the moments when they bickered during training. There was no real malice the way that there used to be.

“Bradshaw,” she said with a smile and a nod before turning to Jake and letting her expression get a little more serious, “Bagman.” They all chuckled for a moment before she stepped in and gave Bradley a brief hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Bradley replied with a nod.

Jake let her get a few steps away before calling after her, “Sweet dreams, Phoenix!” He and Bradley both fell back into laughter when she responded to that with a middle finger as she continued walking away.

When the two of them quieted back down again, Jake turned and looked at Bradley, who was so casually leaning back against his car and toying with his keys. “You still gotta be home before midnight, Bradshaw?”

He laughed as he shrugged. “Only if you don’t want Phoenix hunting you down.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Right.”

There was a pause, both of them trying and failing to ignore the tension that had been thickening between them. It was a wonder either of them could breathe at this point. Clearing his throat, Bradley tried to sound as normal as possible as he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there.”

Bradley nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Jake watched as Bradley went to unlock the front door of his car. After a quick second of contemplation, he decided, fuck it, now was as good of a time as any. Reaching forward, he rested his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Bradley turned around, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for Hangman to ask him a question. What he was met with instead, however, was the feeling of Jake’s lips crashing into his. The shock of it all only lasted a moment before Bradley was giving right into him, keys clattering to the ground as he opted to grab onto Jake instead. He had one hand still on Bradley’s shoulder, the other cupping the side of his face.

It felt new and familiar all at once. Bradley was fairly certain that if Jake’s body wasn’t pinning him so effectively to the car, that he would’ve melted into a puddle in the middle of the parking lot. He wouldn’t have been upset about that either.

When they finally pulled apart, each of them catching their breath, Jake let his forehead drop to rest against Bradley’s. They each had a grin on their face, chests rising and falling from not just the kiss but the excitement, the relief of it all that there were some things that were still the same as they ever were and that it was a good thing.

“Now I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jake said with a smile, quieter than he usually was.

Bradley chuckled, wanting to part ways for the night even less now than he had before. “You could come over still.”

Jake chuckled and stepped away, stealing another quick kiss as he went. “I gotta be home before midnight too.”

“Liar,” Bradley said with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, grin growing wider by the second. “It’s just good to leave you wanting more.”

[fictionadventurer]

Now that I have some feedback on this year's Inklings Challenge themes, a few suggestions seemed the most popular.

Several voices expressed interest in Gifts/Fruits of the Spirit, which continues to intrigue me, but I shy away from it for the same reason that I have other years, which is that Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Gentleness, and Self-Control mostly fit fairly closely in with one another, which would make it difficult to single out one as a focus, and could make for stories that fit within a very narrow band.

One possibility that occurs is to make a list of lists: seven themes that are all groupings of their own, though this makes it even more complicated.

However, now that I’m thinking of those lists, I suddenly have a bunch of other ideas.

If this was a strictly Catholic challenge, we would totally be doing sacraments for the theme list.

The Corporal Works of Mercy are also probably mostly a Catholic concept, but they offer very specific yet wide-ranging prompts for stories.

Feed the hungry

Give drink to the thirsty

Shelter the homeless

Clothe the naked

Visit the sick

Visit the imprisoned

Bury the dead

If I’m willing to expand the list just slightly, we could do the Eight Beatitudes, which also offer very specific story-related prompts.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for justice, for they shall have their fill.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.

Blessed are they that suffer persecution for the sake of Christ, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

There was also a lot of interest in letting people pick books of the Bible as inspiration, leaving it up to the author to choose whether to be inspired by plot points, themes, characters, etc.

If I did go with this option, I’d probably do a combination of specific books + categories to cover a wider range. Something like

Genesis

Judges

Kings

Prophets

Psalms

Gospels

Revelation

I do like this idea, but this does leave a burden on the author to dive into the Bible, and with only a three-week writing window, people could get too tangled up in possibilities or the time commitment of rereading to actually write anything in time (and it could suggest we’re expecting retellings, which would not be the case.)

Other Bible-related options that intrigue me included the suggestion to list seven Bible characters to use as inspiration—which could have the same effect of making people think we’re expected retellings instead of just “use this as a spark of inspiration”. One way to avoid that could be to list several categories of characters and let people pick: Fathers, Judges, Kings, Prophets, Apostles, etc. But then we get back to the “requires too much research on the author’s part” problem.

I also loved the idea of using seven of Christ’s parables as prompts. This has a similar benefit to the “books of the Bible” option in that it would allow people to choose plot points, characters, themes, imagery, etc., but it narrows the focus so there’s not so much reading to dive into. It also has a similar drawback—people might think we expect retellings. But in our Christian storytelling challenge, it seems very fitting to tie our work to the idea of Christ as storyteller.

List of possible parables include the well-known story parables:

The Good Samartian

The Prodigal Son

The Ten Virgins

The Unforgiving Servant

The Rich Man and Lazarus

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

The Laborers in the Vineyard

The Ten Talents

As well as some with more abstract imagery:

The Parable of the Sower

The Parable of the Wheat Among Weeds

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

The Parable of the Pearl

The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree

The Parable of the Mustard Seed

The Parable of the Friend at Midnight

I understand I have not made my problem easier. I’m just trying to list some options and get more specific feedback.

[udaberriwrites]

Mercy Drabbles? 👀

Thanks for the ask!

Actually, this would be the third part of Into the Dollhouse, which started as a prompt for the Winter round of Season of Drabbles 2024 and got a second part during Candy Hearts 2024 🙈. Those two works focused on Astarion's fall from grace before the BG3 game starts, starting with him catching Cazador's eye in a moment of foolish pride. The theme was, respectively, the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Heavenly Virtues.

Parts three and four, then, would keep this theme by following the Seven Works of Mercy (corporal in part 3, spiritual in part 4) and explore his recovery after the game is completed :D

This is the first drabble:

His name is Sebastian. He’s never been kissed.

He’s hunched over a tankard, eyes wild with anxiety. A little lamb, all alone. An easy mark.

Astarion intercepts him before any of his siblings can. His back is still on fire, he feels faint, but he can't afford to return empty-handed. Honeyed words spill like poison from his tongue.

But Sebastian is clever and quick-witted. His smile is sweet and his hands are warm. When their lips meet, he makes his undead heart thrum with pleasure.

So Astarion doesn't realize he's surrendering part of his soul.

Until it’s gone with him.

(I'm a bit of an Astarion/Sebastian simp, if that isn't clear 😝)

[disgruntledexplainer]

something I have been realizing with dawning horror is that since the Reagan era The Church has spent so long harping on a few select moral issues (some justifiably, others not so much), that it plumb forgot to teach about the reality and efficacy of the Sacraments and the core message of the Faith, that of mercy and forgiveness, and concern for those less fortunate than us. Sacred Scripture. The Nicene Creed. The Seven Sacraments. The Beatitudes. The Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. This is what the Catholic Church is about, at it's core.

tunnel vision has been killing the Church.

[rosietrace]

Melodic Misconceptions 🎹

Track 21: They only want you when you're seventeen 2/2

Synopsis: Victoria Shard was a former member of the popular idol group [ Poisoner ] from NRC corporations. After discourse with her group leader, Victoria decided it was best for her to leave and pursue her solo career in a record label run by her parents.

It had been half a year since her separation from her old group, and Victoria had never been more successful. But now she has a new problem. She must return to NRC corporations in order to mentor the seven idol groups.

Ellis Clawthorne is a member of [ (Co)-connect ] the most recent group under NRC'S belt. With no experience as an idol, Ellis must persevere in order to succeed and pursue her dreams.

Will both girls be able to adapt to their current situations?

✐ ✎_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_✐ ✎

Author's note: Boom. Track 21 has arrived and.... It's just a short followup to track 17 ;-; Sorry-

But other than that, I found this to be a very wholesome track! Consider it mercy until I release Koral's introduction track >:) She isn't villainous, just an inconvenience

I always thought of this interpretation of the reader(Aguri/Y/N) to be a bit of a Disney kid, and probably got into acting after watching the Narnia movies and other Disney sitcoms such as Hannah Montana, Wizards of Waverly place, The suite life of Zack and Cody, etc.

So naturally I gave them a record player that played his favorite Disney songs ^^

I hope you guys enjoy this track!

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

When you woke up, you felt even more exhausted than when you were awake hours before.

As much as you wanted to hold Kaz close to your chest until the test of time, you knew he'd probably suffocate after staying in your arms for too long.

So when you woke up, it didn't surprise you that Kaz wasn't in your arms anymore.

Sitting up, you yawned and stretched your arms, relishing in the cold atmosphere that your air conditioning brought into the room.

"... Vil made a really stupid decision… And most of the time he has a bit of common sense." You murmured, pondering about Vil's decision to make Koral his group's manager.

Was it the right choice? As problematic as Koral already is, you would've expected Vil to be judgemental of her. But now he's planning to appoint her as his manager?

You groaned, covering your face with your ring-covered hands."He's been so delusional lately…" you groaned before you left your bed and went into the kitchen.

When you entered, you were already questioning what you should have for dinner. Weird as it may sound to others, you ended up choosing pancakes with sugar and syrup for dinner.

And you quickly went to work. Kaz happened to unintentionally activate your old record player and started playing your favorite Disney songs.

You hummed, a soft smile on your face as you mixed the pancake batter while 'Once upon a dream' was playing.

It didn't help that you put the bowl down to do an imaginary waltz with an imaginary figure. Weird as it may be, it felt like a fun pastime to do when you didn't have anything else to do.

After your little once-upon-a-dance number, you turned your attention back to your pancake batter and began pouring the mixture onto the pan and did what you could to make the pancakes look… Presentable.

You inhaled the scent and grinned."Everything's off to a good start…" you said to yourself, and Kaz meowed at you in response. Which you assumed to be his way of making a passing comment at you.

You squint your eyes at your cat."Don't give me that look, Kaz." Your adorable little feline only meowed and you could only shake your head in amusement and flip another one of your pancakes.

In total you managed to make at least five pancakes. And they looked even more delectable when you put the syrup and sugar on top.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

What the hell…. You thought, turning on your phone and seeing that it was Victoria who was texting you.

You smiled at her messages.

Maybe talking with her isn't that bad after all…

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

Tagging

@starry-night-rose @authoruio @windbornearchon @fumikomiyasaki @geminiiviolets @nem0-nee @sakuramidnight15 @twsted-princess @oseathepebble @knights-escort @crazyyanderefangirlfan

Note: Please reblog after liking, and I would like to hear your thoughts on this track, as short as it may be ^^

Another note: Can't wait to see y'all on Friday >:)

[catenaaurea]

The Baltimore Catechism

Part Two: The Commandments

Lesson Fifteen: The Two Great Commandments

188. Besides believing what God has revealed, what else must we do to be saved?

Besides believing what God has revealed, we must keep His law. (John 14:15)

189. Which are the two great commandments that contain the whole law of God?

The two great commandments that contain the whole law of God are:

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind, and with thy whole strength;

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

(Matthew 22:35-40)

190. What must we do to love God, our neighbor, and ourselves?

To love God, our neighbor, and ourselves we must keep the commandments of God and of the Church, and perform the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. (I John 3:18)

191. Which are the chief corporal works of mercy?

The chief corporal works of mercy are seven:

To feed the hungry.

To give drink to the thirsty.

To clothe the naked.

To visit the imprisoned.

To shelter the homeless.

To visit the sick.

To bury the dead.

192. Which are the chief spiritual works of mercy?

The chief spiritual works of mercy are seven:

To admonish the sinner.

To instruct the ignorant.

To counsel the doubtful.

To comfort the sorrowful.

To bear wrongs patiently.

To forgive all injuries.

To pray for the living and the dead.

193. Is everyone obliged to perform the works of mercy?

Everyone is obliged to perform the works of mercy, according to his own ability and the need of his neighbor. (Matthew 25:35-36)

194. Are all the ordinary deeds done every day to relieve the corporal or spiritual needs of others true works of mercy?

All the ordinary deeds done every day to relieve the corporal or spiritual needs of others are true works of mercy, if done in the name of Christ. (Mark 9:40)

195. Which are the commandments of God?

The commandments of God are these ten:

I am the Lord thy God; thou shalt not have strange gods before Me.

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.

Remember thou keep holy the Lord's day.

Honor thy father and thy mother.

Thou shalt not kill.

Thou shalt not commit adultery.

Thou shalt not steal.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods.

196. Should we be satisfied merely to keep the commandments God?

We should not be satisfied merely to keep the commandments of God, but should always be ready to do good deeds, even when they are not commanded. (Matthew 19:21)

197. What does Our Savior especially recommend that is not strictly commanded by the law of God?

Our Savior especially recommends the observance of the Evangelical Counsels – voluntary poverty, perpetual chastity, and perfect obedience. (Matthew 5:48)

[famousinuniverse]

The Seven Works of Mercy (Caravaggio)

The Seven Works of Mercy (Italian: Sette opere di Misericordia), also known as The Seven Acts of Mercy, is an oil painting by Italian painter Caravaggio, circa 1607. The painting depicts the seven corporal works of mercy in traditional Catholic belief, which are a set of compassionate acts concerning the material needs of others.

The painting was made for, and is still housed in, the church of Pio Monte della Misericordia in Naples. Originally, it was meant to be seven separate panels around the church; however, Caravaggio combined all seven works of mercy in one composition which became the church's altarpiece. The painting is better seen from "il coretto" (the little choir) in the first floor.

The titular seven works/acts of mercy are represented in the painting as follows:

Bury the dead, Visit the imprisoned, and feed the hungry, Shelter the homeless, Clothe the naked, Visit the sick

With regards to his choice of iconography, Caravaggio may have been inspired by his predecessor Perino del Vaga, whose fresco of Roman Charity he could have seen during his stay in Genoa in 1605

Roman Charity

Roman Charity or Cimon and Pero is an ancient Greek and Roman exemplary story (exemplum) of filial piety (pietas) in which a woman secretly breastfeeds her father or mother, incarcerated and supposedly sentenced to death by starvation.

Cimon and Pero, Rubens (c.1625)

Caritas Romana, Gaspar de Crayer (c. 1645)

Fresco from Pompeii

Drawing by Sebald Beham, 1540

Version by Artemisia Gentileschi (17th-century)

Mammelokker, Belfry of Ghent

Jan Janssens (1620–25)

Jean-Baptiste Greuze (c. 1767)

Rembrandt Peale (1811)

The 1973 surrealist film O Lucky Man! also contains a scene of Roman Charity when the protagonist is starving and a vicar's wife nurses him rather than let him plunder the food gathered for an offering.

The Seven Works of Mercy painted by Caravaggio (1571 - 1610)

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF BLESSED IMELDA LAMBERTINI The Patroness of First Communicants Feast Day: May 13

Does it seem strange, at a time when we are called to the weighty task of being 'intensely Eucharistic,' that Dominicans should look back almost seven centuries to consider the example of a nine year old little girl? Not so strange, really; in fact, not at all! For wasn't it Jesus Himself who loved to hold children up as the best example of what He was trying to teach us all to become?

And thus we are not embarrassed to consult a little girl in our Dominican family tree and seek from her the meaning of the call to be 'intensely Eucharistic.'

Little Imelda Lambertini would not have given us a theological treatise on devotion to the Holy Eucharist. She would simply have told us of Jesus' love in the Sacrament, and then suggest that we learn to know Him there, as she did.

Dominican tradition tells us that Imelda Lambertini was born of a noble family in Bologna, Italy in 1322. Her parents raised her to love her Catholic faith, and through their influence she developed a love for prayer, especially for the Mass. Often she would attend Mass and Compline (Night Prayer of the Divine Office) at a nearby Dominican Church. Her mother also taught Imelda to cook and sew for the poor and cultivated in her child an eagerness to perform the corporal works of mercy. Even so, her mother and father, both of whom were getting on in years, were surprised when Imelda asked permission at the tender age of nine to go to live with the Dominican nuns at a neighboring monastery. As difficult a decision as this was, her parents evidently sensed the depth of their child’s desire and entrusted her spiritual formation to the Dominicans at Val di Pietra.

At this distance of centuries and culture it is not easy to determine precisely what little Imelda's status was at the convent. It seems she was well loved by the sisters, who allowed her to wear the Dominican habit, to pray with them, and to follow their way of life to the extent that a little girl would be able to do while still remaining a child.

Imelda, we are told, longed (and intensely, it seems) to be allowed to receive Holy Communion with the nuns, but in that day such a thing would have been unheard of for a child her age. Her pleading was again and again gently refused, with the explanation that she would need to wait until she was older and more prepared.

For a time Imelda had to be content with this answer, meanwhile learning to chant Office from hearing the nuns in choir and developing her own interior prayer life in simple childlike ways.

The saints, whose stories she had learned from her parents and from the nuns, became her 'secret companions,' and probably had a hand in nurturing the longing she felt to receive Jesus intimately in the Sacrament of the Eucharist.

In her private conversations with Jesus, with whom she was developing a deep friendship, we can imagine that she made known often her desire to be allowed to go to Communion. There is no evidence that He put up any opposition to the proposal—but neither did the sisters relent.

And so Imelda continued, with the intensity of a child, to get to know Jesus more deeply, and to desire Him all the more.

As spring approached, the sisters, who perhaps thought that they had succeeded in diverting Imelda's 'childish fancy' to go to Communion with the grown-ups, were a bit startled when she asked again, shortly before the feast of the Ascension, to receive her First Holy Communion. ('Asked,' in fact, is not the word. She begged them insistently, it seems.)

When the chaplain was consulted, he agreed with the sisters and responded with no hesitation that Imelda was much too young. On the Vigil of the Ascension Imelda was in her place in the chapel, quietly praying as the sisters received Communion.

Then, Jesus did a little 'insisting' of His own.

After Mass, as one of the nuns was clearing the altar, she heard a noise and looked up to the choir to see Imelda, a glowing light shining above her head, with the Sacred Host suspended in the light.

The chaplain was called at once, and he understood that Jesus Himself was making his desire known: "Let the little children come to Me and do not stop them."

The priest gave Imelda her First Holy Communion.

We can well imagine that the nuns were amazed and thrilled both at the great blessing to their little one, and to their convent. The prioress allowed Imelda to remain for some time in thanksgiving, and then sent for her to come and have her breakfast. Imelda was still kneeling as they had left her, a smile on her face. Yet when called for, Imelda's body was still. She had died of pure joy. Her thanksgiving had been well completed, and she had nothing left to desire.

Bl. Imelda's story is so well entrenched in the collective memory of her Dominican brothers and sisters that it has remained firmly in the Order's history. She continues to offer the witness of a child with mature desires, and a faith unspoiled in its intensity.

Imelda understood instinctively what many of us have forgotten: that it is the single-hearted who are blessed and that unless we become like children we cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

Source: Nashville Dominicans

[bylagunabay]

Power of Almsgiving

8 COUNSELS ON THE NECESSITY OF ALMSGIVING

- T.S. Flanders

(5-minute read)

During Lent, the faithful are enjoined to do penance. The three great works of penance are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. St. Thomas Aquinas and the Catechism of the Catholic Church give several counsels to dispel your doubts on the necessity of almsgiving.

1 WHAT IS AN ACT OF MERCY?

St. Thomas explains:

“A person is said to be merciful [misericors], as being, so to speak, sorrowful at heart [miserum cor]; being affected with sorrow at the misery of another as though it were his own. Hence, it follows that he endeavors to dispel the misery of this other, as if it were his; and this is the effect of mercy,”

2 ARE CORPORAL WORKS GREATER THAN SPIRITUAL WORKS OF MERCY?

No. St. Thomas says spiritual works of mercy excel corporal works in almost every way, except in the case where some poor man has an urgent corporal need. In this case, the corporal are better than the spiritual works since “a man in hunger is to be fed rather than instructed”. Since acts of mercy serve the needy, the most urgent need comes first in an individual case.

The Seven Spiritual Works of Mercy are the following: to give counsel to the doubtful; to instruct the ignorant; to admonish sinners; to comfort the afflicted; to forgive offenses; to bear patiently the troublesome; and to pray for the living and the dead.

The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy are these: to feed the hungry; to give drink to the thirsty; to clothe the naked; to shelter the needy; to visit the sick; to visit the imprisoned; and to bury the dead.

3 ARE CATHOLICS BOUND TO GIVE ALMS TO THOSE IN NEED?

The Catechism makes reference to our Lord’s words in the Gospel and confirms that giving alms is a duty and a precept:

“On the last day God will condemn and consign to eternal fires those who have omitted and neglected the duty of almsgiving, while on the contrary He will praise and introduce into His heavenly country those who have exercised mercy towards the poor.”

A precept is a divine command that obligates the Catholic under pain of mortal sin. A counsel is given to the free choice of an individual soul — e.g., the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

Some are punished eternally for omitting to give alms, as is clear from mt. 25:41-43. Therefore, almsgiving is a matter of precept.

As love of our neighbor is a matter of precept, whatever is a necessary condition to the love of our neighbor is a matter of precept also. Now the love of our neighbor requires that not only should we be our neighbor’s well-wishers, but also his well-doers, according to 1 jn. 3:18: let us not love in word, nor in tongue, but in deed, and in truth. And in order to be a person’s well-wisher and well-doer, we ought to succor his needs: this is done by almsgiving. Therefore, almsgiving is a matter of precept.

4 ARE WE BOUND TO GIVE TO ALL WHO ARE IN NEED?

No. St. Thomas observes that we are bound to love all men equally with regard to wishing them well (benevolence), but we can love with our actions (beneficence) only those who are nearby since “we cannot do good to all”. Therefore, “we are not bound to relieve all who are in need, but only those who could not be succored if we did not succor them,”

5 SHOULD WE GIVE ALMS OUT OF WHAT IS NECESSARY FOR OURSELVES AND OUR FAMILIES?

No. St. Thomas:

[It] is altogether wrong to give alms out of what is necessary to us in this sense; for instance, if a man found himself in the presence of a case of urgency, and had merely sufficient to support himself and his children, or others under his charge, he would be throwing away his life and that of others if he were to give away in alms, what was then necessary to him.

6 WHAT ARE THE CIRCUMSTANCES WHEREIN THE NEGLECT OF ALMS BECOMES A MORTAL SIN?

St. Thomas:

There is a time when we sin mortally if we omit to give alms; on the part of the recipient when we see that his need is evident and urgent, and that he is not likely to be succored otherwise — on the part of the giver, when he has superfluous goods, which he does not need for the time being, as far as he can judge with probability.

This is because, as the Apostle says, he who does not have care for his own is worse than an unbeliever (I Tim. 5:8). Thus, “we are bound to give alms of our surplus, as also to give alms to one whose need is extreme: otherwise, almsgiving, like any other greater good, is a matter of counsel”. St. Alphonsus says it is sufficient to give 2% of all surplus income.

7 WHAT IS THE SPIRITUAL EFFECT OF ALMS?

The Roman Catechism says that almsgiving is a “medicine suited to heal the wounds of the soul” and quotes Scripture, which speaks of the spiritual reward of alms, such as Tob. 12:9: For alms deliver from death, and the same is that which purges away sins, and makes to find mercy and life everlasting.

Spirago discusses numerous benefits, such an remission of sins; eternal recompence; temporal blessings; bodily health; answers to prayer; and obtaining the prayers of the poor, whose “prayers have great power with God”. St. Thomas also says says the satisfaction made by alms is even greater than that which is obtained by prayer and fasting.

2 Corinthians 9:7-11

7 Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not regretfully or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8 And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. 9 As it is written, “He scatters abroad; he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.”

10 He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. 11 You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us.

8 WHY AM I BOUND TO GIVE AWAY MY SURPLUS IF IT BELONGS TO ME?

St. Thomas fields this objection and answers it as follows:

Objection: it is lawful for everyone to use and to keep what is his own. Therefore, it is lawful not to give alms: and consequently, almsgiving is not a matter of precept.

Reply: The temporal goods which God grants us, are ours as to the ownership, but as to the use of them, they belong not to us alone but also to such others as we are able to succor out of what we have over and above our needs. Hence St. Basil the Great says: “If you acknowledge them,” viz. your temporal goods, “as coming from God, is He unjust because He apportions them unequally? Why are you rich while another is poor, unless it be that you may have the merit of a good stewardship, and he the reward of patience? It is the hungry man’s bread that you withhold, the naked man’s cloak that you have stored away, the shoe of the barefoot that you have left to rot, the money of the needy that you have buried underground: and so you injure as many as you might help.” St. Ambrose of Milan expresses himself in the same way.

Thus, the saints confess the common principle that, as Cahill observes, “God has ordained material things to satisfy the needs of all”. Therefore, even private property can come under the obligation of almsgiving in the circumstances discussed above.

[coghive]

[Music] Mercy - The Rock Music

“Mercy,” the emotive new worship anthem from Salt Lake City-based collective The Rock Music, is now available. Produced by Sam Hart (Aaron Shust) and co-penned by Hart along with The Rock Music’s Steele Croswhite, Thomas Scribner and Caleb Yetton, “Mercy” proclaims the love, power, forgiveness and grace of “the Savior that sin never saw coming.” Featuring vocals from The Rock Music’s veteran worship leaders Steele Croswhite, Kim Croswhite and Caleb Yetton, the song has been readily embraced by The Rock Church’s Salt Lake City-area congregation. An intimate and yearning response of worship, coupled with an unwavering confidence in the greatness of God—signature themes throughout the collective’s extensive discography of corporate worship offerings—“Mercy” stands poised to resonate with listeners everywhere.

“Over the years we have shared dozens and dozens of new songs with our congregation, and though each is special in its own way, we have come to recognize when a song uniquely connects with the church,” shares Steele Croswhite. “‘Mercy’ is definitely one of those songs. Exactly why it has spoken to our church so powerfully is only known by Jesus, but I sense that people see themselves reflected in the lyrics as receivers of God’s mercy.” “At times we have all been burdened, broken or struggling in our faith,” he adds. “Each of us has been weary, felt condemned, or filled with worry. The church singing together that Jesus’ light ‘shatters the darkness,’ that His mercy ‘binds up the broken,’ and that our sin can’t compare to our Savior Jesus Christ, has been a wonderful encouragement for our entire congregational family.” For two decades The Rock Music has been dedicated to writing, recording and performing Christ-centered music without compromise. The collective—helmed by singer/songwriter, worship leader and pastor Steele Croswhite—has released 13 full-length recordings and seven EPs. In addition, selections from The Rock Music are showcased on the DREAM Records releases God’s Not Dead: A Light In Darkness and Samson, compilations featuring songs from and inspired by the motion pictures. Mercy - The Rock Music https://youtu.be/-C-CDWwc558 The Rock Music is a ministry of The Rock Church, a suburban Salt Lake City congregation on a mission to share the Hope and grace of Christ in Utah—a state with among the fewest Bible-believing Christians in the country. Through outreach efforts in the community, including to those from Mormon/LDS backgrounds, the church seeks to work together, in unity, to reach the world for Jesus Christ. Signing his first record deal at the age of 21, Steele Croswhite began his career as the lead vocalist, songwriter and guitarist for the acclaimed rock band Silvercrush. While the group earned Billboard chart success and toured with such artists as Sheryl Crow, Foo Fighters and Maroon 5, Croswhite’s life was falling apart. He drifted from his Christian upbringing, lured by the trappings of fame and reeling from his father’s untimely death. Encouraged by his sister to visit The Rock Church, it was there Croswhite experienced the true grace of Jesus Christ and rededicated his life to the Lord. Today, he serves as a pastor and worship leader at the church. Read the full article

[inklings-challenge]

Inklings Archive Dive: 2023 Portal Fantasy

Welcome to the Inklings Archive Dive! Today, we’re exploring the portal fantasy stories written by the members of Team Lewis during last year's Inklings Challenge. In 2023, writers included at least one of the seven traditional corporal works of mercy as a theme in their stories: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, clothe the naked, visit the sick, visit the imprisoned, bury the dead. If you’d like to read some of the stories you might have missed, or revisit any favorites, you can check them out with the links below.

2023 Team Lewis Portal Fantasy Stories

Bearial by @aparticularbandit (unfinished): Chapter One, Chapter Two

Blossom by @ashknife

The Children & The Trees by @mademoiseli: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

The Comforter by @secretariatess (unfinished)

The Legend of the Blackberry Sword by @rosesnvines (unfinished): Part 1

An Ounce of Prevention by @lydiahosek

Secret of the Witch House by @mels-library (unfinished): Chapter One

Stairs to Nowhere by @wildlyironicbee (unfinished)

Stranger in a Strange Land by @incomingalbatross

A Stranger In This Place by @saxifrage-wreath (unfinished)

Terrarium Lights by @larissa-the-scribe

Untitled by @ladyphlogiston (unfinished)

The Waystation by @kanerallels

The Wild by @mrgartist

If you read and enjoy, let the author know with a reblog or a comment! Now go forth and read!

[fictionadventurer]

For the Inklings Challenge themes, we're getting the most interest in Corporal Works of Mercy, the Beatitudes, and the abstract story parables. As story prompts, parables have an extra interpretive step that makes it a bit more difficult to apply to a story, and I feel that, much as I like the concept of Christ as storyteller, I'd personally struggle with that list more than the other two.

I'm wavering back-and-forth between the other two. The works of mercy are more direct, concrete prompts that are very easy to base stories around. The Beatitudes are more abstract, thematic and character-based prompts that are still specific enough for storytelling. I like them both very much for different reasons.

I'm leaning toward the works of mercy, because they're a bit more straightforward, and they fit into the seven-item list of previous years. These items all come with built-in problems. It suggests stories where the main character either has one of these problems or is helping someone who has them--perfect for storytelling, especially in such a short time frame.

The main thing holding me back is the fact that calling them the corporal works of mercy is a Catholic concept. I don't think this should be a problem, because they're all basic charitable acts, and most of the list comes straight from Matthew 25. But before I make the final call, I want to make sure the Protestant side would be comfortable with this as a focus for the challenge. Are people okay with this?