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ajaxkinnie · 4 years

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Lucifer Fluff A-Z

Words: 2701 (Huh?!)

Warnings: None

Notes: This is my first writing on Tumblr, and my very first piece for Obey Me! I’m just trying to understand these characters a little better, before I try anything more in-depth :)

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Naturally, Lucifer is a very busy demon, so he finds it difficult to get any free time - let alone free time that he could spend with his love. When he’s working, they’re more than welcome to sit in his office and study alongside him. They’ve been working through his entire collection of exotic teas, trying to figure out which ones suit each other’s personal tastes. He wouldn’t admit it to them, but he actually finds it a lot easier to concentrate when his love is with him.

When he is lucky enough to have time away from his RAD duties, expect to be showered in attention. He likes to take you to see the sights in the Devildom, regardless of how tasteful he finds them. One of his favourite memories is of the time you visited the nearby museum. He couldn’t believe how simply cute you looked while your brain was attempting to run at 100 miles a minute (“Wait, that story from the Bible was actually real?!”). He bought a pen from the souvenir shop, and he uses it to sign his most important documents.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires their mind, more than anything. Sometimes he falls deep into thought and finds himself wondering what the chances are he’d fall for a human so smart and fearless. He likes feeling like he has someone he can trust unconditionally, and someone decisive who can help him in puzzling situations. Before you, he would ask Mammon, but his answers tended to stress Lucifer out even more. He’s actually very grateful that you use common sense more often than not.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Patience is one of the virtues he didn’t abandon after the fall, so he’s a calming presence whenever you feel emotionally down. He would drop anything to help you if he felt like you needed him, and all he wants is for you to be happy. If you’re comfortable with physical affection, he’ll hold you for the entire night, making sure you feel safe in his arms. If not, he’ll fix you a hot drink and find an activity for you both to enjoy. Once the worst of it has passed, he’ll ask you to talk about your feelings, just so he knows how best to support you in the future.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He was shocked the first time he found himself fantasizing about your future together. He’s never been that kind of person. He imagines the two of you raising a family, in one of those Victorian-style houses he always sees in old films. Before you, he didn’t think he would ever want kids (especially with how Satan turned out), but he’d be lying if he said the thought of the two of you during tea on the front porch while your children play gleefully didn’t make him want to smile.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Seeing how he’s used to being in control in every one of his relationships, he’s come to realize that doesn’t want that from you. He struggles with it at first, and it takes him a lot of effort to overcome his commanding nature, but the two of you are absolutely equals. He just wants you to be happy. In fact, he finds it endearing when you tease him about his council member duties.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Get ready for week-long silences and dramatic gasps of exasperation, everyone! Usually he keeps his cool when you guys start fighting - a few sarcastic quips and eye rolls have never done any damage. The worst fights are the ones where he gets angry. He always feels awful, and will lock himself up in his office for at least 3 days before he even acknowledges anyone else in the House of Lamentation. He never apologizes first, either. You just learn to accept it, and understand that he says sorry in his own way (namely, the days off he always mysteriously procures afterwards to do whatever your heart desires).

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

His pride doesn't let him say it, so he expresses his gratitude in other ways. For Lucifer, gratitude is the heartfelt smile he offers when his love brings him a cup of coffee during a long night of work, or him lending you his coat on an evening walk. He never has to say the words “I’m grateful”, because his late night musings about how shocked he is that a human could make him feel this way says it for him.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

After The Incident with Belphie, as everyone refers to it, you two don't keep secrets. The only time he won’t tell you something is when it's related to his work for Diavolo. He really sucks at white lies, too, which none of you expected. Asmo was mad when Lucifer spoiled his surprise spa day.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

He’s a lot less stern these days. Sometimes he walks into council meetings with a smirk, knowing that he’s going to get to see you for the first time in his inhumanely busy schedule. Mammon’s made a few comments now, bragging about all the things he can get away with since you “broke” the eldest. (Lucifer heard. He was hanging upside down for a good few days until someone finally took pity on him.)

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Lucifer? Jealous? Of course not!

Yes. He gets very jealous. He’s good at hiding it though, signalling you through a arm squeeze or wrapping his arm around your waist just a tiny bit tighter. He does stand a little taller, and gets every so slightly curt with whoever is attempting to steal your attention. After all, he was once the jewel of the heavens. What could this lower demon possibly have on him?

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Kisses with Lucifer feel like free falling, and take your breath away without him even having to try. They’re soft and romantic and full of emotion (until they’re full of something Else if you catch my drift). He just wants you to know how much he loves and adores you. He likes when you blush afterwards. He thinks it's cute.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He asked Diavolo if he could have uninterrupted access to the royal rose garden, with the intent of teaching you about the different types of flowers in the Devildom - nothing more. When you arrived, he took you for a calming stroll under the moonlight. When you stood in the gazebo and put your head on his shoulder, he felt his heart start pounding. He reached out to grab your hand, and in the spur of the moment, told you how nobody in the three realms had ever made him feel this way before. He wishes he’d planned something in advance, since he was never a person to act on impulse. Despite how many times you reassured him that a moonlight stroll through a rose garden was one of the most romantic things to ever happen, he doesn’t believe you.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He’d never considered marriage before, since every other immortal being was insufferable by his standards, but you changed his mind. He thinks a lot about how beautiful you would look in traditional wedding attire (as much as he curses his father for, well, everything) and how he would love to spend the rest of his life with you by his side. Marriage with Lucifer would be hard, since he has a crazy schedule, but you work together to create a work-life balance. Surprisingly, he discovers that he enjoys painting. He displays some of his paintings above the piano, right next to your wedding photos.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

He calls you Love, and Dear. If Mammon or Asmo would use it, it goes on Lucifer’s distasteful list and he will not go NEAR it. He’s very particular about these kinds of things.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Nobody outside of the council could tell. He expresses his love through actions, so unless they could see him fussing over your school schedule, or worrying about what you’d packed for lunch, they wouldn’t have the tiniest clue. He just treats you like you’re the most precious thing in his life, with soft touches and an even gentler temperament. He wants you to be happy. After you two “go public” he’ll wrap his arm around your waist, or lend you his clothes to wear for the day. Even if you aren’t big on PDA, he’ll make sure everyone knows that you two are a forever couple.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Oh, as soon as one of his brothers walks into the room he locks hands with you just to see that little blush and nose scrunch you do. He doesn’t engage in public makeout sessions, he thinks it’s just gross, but he does like to quickly kiss your forehead when he gets pulled away. He just wants everyone to know that you’re happy with him, it fills him to the brim with pride. At Diavolo’s parties, don’t expect him to leave your side. It’s important everyone knows you’re with him, and he’s with you.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

This man is a PLANNER. He’s so used to managing everything that goes on in the Devildom that your dates are like child's play to him. He makes the most simple of dinner plans feel like a whirlwind romance you would see in a rom-com. He also loves taking you to the events that he helped plan, he loves the attention he gets from the ‘scandalous’ romance of the Prince of Hell and the human. He wants to show you off all the time!

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He lives and breathes compliments. You wear an outfit he picked out to dinner? Expect nonstop commentary of how gorgeous you look and how happy he is to be with you. Every word that leaves his mouth is like poetry, and it's always enough to make you melt in your seat. He loves how you turn the same shade as the strawberries you’re sharing for dessert. He just loves You.

“My love, I can’t believe you have conquered my heart like this. You look simply gorgeous in this light.”

“Luci, I really appreciate it, but can you not say those things while we’re trying to finish the grocery shopping?”

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

If he can pull strings behind the scenes to help you reach your goals, he will. He hates seeing you when you feel defeated. If you ask him not to interfere, then he shares meaningful words with you about how he believes in you, and he knows you can do anything you set your mind to. After all, if you can seduce the Prince of Hell, what can’t you do?

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He’s not a thrill seeker, but he doesn’t have a specific routine he prefers. He enjoys waking up and seeing you next to him, but as long as he gets to spend time with you it doesn’t matter what you do. He loves it when you surprise him with something you planned yourself, he always appreciates how much time and thought you put into everything you do for him.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He had to analyse you closely at the start of the exchange, so he’s known about your mannerisms and how you react to most situations for a while now. Your brick wall of a boyfriend, however, is a very difficult can of worms to deal with. He’s used to being emotionally shut out, so while he can recognise your feelings, he finds it difficult to emphasise with you for a long time. Once he starts to open up though, he starts to understand why you act the way you do in some situations, and it actually results in you two fighting a lot less. He respects you a lot for helping him get back in touch with his feelings.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It’s near the same level of priority as his work, surprisingly. He considers you as part of his family too, since all of his brothers adore you, so you’re definitely at the top of his list of priorities. While sometimes he struggles with work-life balance, he tries his hardest, and that means the world to you both.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He takes lots of photos of you whenever you’re not looking. He says that he's just trying to capture the moment with you, but he knows deep down that he's preserving your memory ready for the day you’re no longer with him. His lockscreen is a photo of you leaning on his balcony, gazing out at the moon, in one of your favourite flowing dresses. With the white light reflecting on you, he felt like he was looking at one of the most beautiful angels in the celestial realm. It makes him happy and bittersweet at the same time, and reminds him to enjoy every moment you spend together. (You made your lockscreen a photo of him sleeping. He made you swear to never get your phone out around his brothers, which you reluctantly agreed on. You’re sitting on a gold mine).

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

More affectionate than everyone expected him to be. Expect to fall asleep against his chest, and spend your free time after classes wrapped in his arms with a pint of ice-cream covered in forehead kisses. He just loves to feel you near him.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He sends you a simple text, just letting you know how much he loves and adores you, and lets you do whatever it is that has you separated. He uses the time to crack on with the mountains of paperwork, but he never gets much done with you on his mind.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Once he cares for you, he would do anything for you, just like he would for his brothers. He wants the best for you, and that means he would do anything for you. Once, he cancelled on Diavolo to spend the day with you, much to your delight. That was the boldest thing he’d ever done, and to this day you use it to tease him. He really would do anything for you. That's love!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me hcs #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #om! headcanons #obey me headcanons #obey me!#swd #i dont know how tumblr works help me

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fericita-s · 4 years

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The Bloom Is On The Rye

Her ring was still loose on her hand but it felt like hers now as she rested it on Henry’s shoulder and then gripped him tightly, urging him to kiss her again. She could feel his breath on her lips and his thumb just under her chin and the nearness of him was intoxicating, like she’d been drinking wine instead of eating berries all afternoon.

Emmry Forced Marriage Mercy Street/Oregon Trail crossover! Chapter 4 below, also on AO3

a continuation of In having new eyes by @jomiddlemarch and beta-ed into being better by @the-spaztic-fantastic. Thank you both for your contributions to this story!

They left Fort Kearney with ten yards of calico and ten yards of sheeting muslin, a dairy cow, new boots for Henry, and a dress that with only minor adjustments could be worn right away. Emma didn’t like to think about what might have befallen the woman it originally belonged to. She wasn’t the only one who had suffered hardship on the trail, but in many ways she was lucky. Henry was able to replenish what stores were waning and to add the supplies that feeding another person required. It became obvious at the trading outpost that others on the trail were selling off wares they had once treasured enough to take on a 2,000 mile trek, parlaying a cookstove or a piece of furniture into more flour or sugar or simply the promise of a lighter load and quicker travel.

As they drew closer to the North Platte River, Emma and Mary gathered serviceberry and gooseberry and chokeberry, staining their fingers purple and their lips and tongues too. Dr. Foster had heard of outbreaks of cholera around this heavily traveled area and warned them all to boil water before using it, an untested preventative measure he was nevertheless certain would help. That was a sweaty task, but the walks for berry gathering were a delight. They never ventured so far as to let the dust of the wagon train out of sight, but Emma could tell exactly when Henry spotted them returning from these excursions. Even from afar she knew the tight set of his shoulders, the way he stood at the front of the wagon, looking for them. The way his face broke into a grin at the sight of her and he jumped off the wagon in a fluid motion to coax the oxen with a “Come up, come up” as they plodded along.

They returned to camp with full stomachs and full baskets, enough that Dr. Foster declared them safe from scurvy and Mary spoke of making pies for everyone, even that horrible Silas Bullen who leered at everyone and hadn’t stopped complaining about leg cramps all day. When Silas began playing on his fiddle and Henry and Emma lingered over their fire with the Fosters nearby, Henry wiped a thumb across Emma’s lips and then leaned in to kiss her.

“Your lips are purple.” He spoke against her mouth, which made it feel less chaste than it started, the simple press of his lips against hers not unlike the one at their hurried wedding. Emma could hear Mrs. Brannon singing along to the mournful tune Silas was playing and it felt like a song just for them.

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning,

While the bloom is on the Rye.

But name the day, the wedding day,

And I will buy the ring.

The moon shines bright and clear;

Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,

Ah! never look so shy,

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning,

While the bloom is on the Rye.

Her mouth was open and she looked from his eyes to his mouth just as he formed the word “Emma.”

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” Silas shouted, his speech slurred by skullvarnish and the strings of his fiddle screeching to a halt. Mrs. Brannan shouted him down and he started playing again, mercifully, as Henry pulled Emma by the hand to their wagon. Once inside, he dropped her hand and took a step away from her.

“Why don't you?” She asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. She was angry with Silas for ruining a moment where it seemed Henry was finally looking at her in the way she wanted and now his eyes were on the floor, like he’d never look at her again. “If I'd have married him he would have done it.”

“That’s why,” Henry said, meeting her eyes and looking so solemn she thought of Jimmy’s name for him, Old Stone-Face. “If we did that, if I did that to you...I would be no better than him. And you deserve better than that.”

“You wouldn't be doing it to me. We would be doing it together.” If she was still in Alexandria she would have stamped her foot, but of course if she was there none of this would be happening. She was an expert in avoiding assignations not of interest and encouraging affection only when it wouldn’t ruin a reputation, but not how to convince her husband she wanted his touch. He swallowed and moved a bit closer, and she could see his face changing from stone to man once more.

“I didn’t want to eat the fruit too early. It would have made me sick. Both of us sick.” He cupped her cheek and she nestled into it eagerly, willing him to see her eagerness. “I thought we could fall in love. I could love you. I didn’t want you to be obligated or grateful, I wanted you to love me too. But if I took that - “ He trailed off, and Emma wasn’t surprised when the words he came back with were familiar ones from the Bible. He used it to speak for him so often, especially when he had no words of his own. “Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.”

She heard it for what it was, a promise to love her if she’d let him. “I desire it, Henry. I desire you. I love you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

And then his mouth was finally against hers and his hands on her waist, untying her skirts and then working at her back to undo the buttons she had carefully redone on the unlucky woman’s dress. When his hands touched her skin, it felt like fire burning, a bright spot of heat where his palms moved to cup her breasts and then graze her sides, embers flaring down into her belly and outwards. She had the wild thought that the flames he had put out on her ruined dress he was now putting back in, stoking a flame that she wasn’t sure how to quench.

She ran her hands under his shirt and then around to his back, pressing him closer against herself, delighting in the sharp exhale he made as their hips connected.

And then, the sound of a loud thud and Dr. Foster cursing, silence where there had been fiddle music, cries of alarm instead of the murmuring of weary travelers.

“Cholera!” Dr. Foster shouted as they adjusted their clothes and ducked back out of the wagon. “I’m sure of it. Damn fool didn’t boil his water, I’d wager.”

Henry kissed her forehead and then left to help Dr. Foster move Silas’s prone body to the edge of camp. Emma took several breaths before joining Mary to see what was to be done. She had never nursed, but then again she had never done a great many things.

Author’s Note: Boiling water was not known to be a preventative measure for cholera but in 1850s London Dr. John Snow (really) isolated the cause of a cholera outbreak to a water pump, so I figure it is not too outlandish for Jed to have formed his own ideas a little bit earlier about cholera and its spread.

Overlanders did more often walk than ride, gathering berries and fuel for fires as they went. Oxen were not driven by reins but rather voice commands and whips.

The Bloom is in the Rye was a popular song at the time wagon trains were moving west.

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” is the best line out of the musical 1776, spoken by delegate Stephen Hopkins from Rhode Island to Thomas Jefferson as he announces he is going home to Virginia to see his wife. I can’t imagine Stephen and Henry are related, since Henry would never say anything remotely like that, even if we want him to.

Skullvarnish was whiskey cut with molasses to make it last longer which sounds like just about the least appetizing thing I can imagine, and exactly what Bullen would drink.

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires” is a verse from Song of Solomon and I’m sure it made an impression on Henry because it’s in the book three times at least: 2:7; 3:5; 8:4.

#mercy street #mercy street advent #emmry #the oregon trail

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ssttitdramon · 5 years

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No Spiders There

Ramón Morales x Reader

Request: Can you do a fluffy lil Ramón x reader 👀

Word Count: 1,341 (definitely not lil, sorry!)

Note: You know the drill, our boys are back and Ramón did not leave :) Also, if you’d like send in a request, take a look at the rules.

Warning: Mentions of underage drinking (it’s none of these kids tho)

“Wait. Ramón stop, I’m serious.” you giggle, trying to get him to hold still as he dodges his head away from your fingers.

You were currently kneeling on the sofa over the grinning boy, his left leg between your knees. Ramón finally sat still, grabbing your hip when he noticed your leg wobble from his swift movements. You finally pulled at the last piece of white thread tangled on his hair, remnant of the “spooky spider prank” Chuck pulled when he answered his door to the two of you. You proudly show Ramón the strand as you tousle his hair, “Gotta also make sure there’s no more fake spiders in th-”

“Ahem. Can the two of you please stop making out in my living room? C'mon, before my mom sees you and starts waving the Bible around.” Chuck interrupted as he walked in, tugging at the sleeves of his peculiar Halloween costume.

You however, finally notice just how close you were to Ramón, not to mention his hand on your hip and his thumb on the waistband of your skirt, dangerously close to touching your skin. You quickly get up, ignoring the small smirk forming on his lips or the amused look on his eyes, which have definitely noticed the blush blossoming on your cheeks by now.

Turning his attention away from you- Ramón zeroed in on Chuck’s costume, “That’s a weird Superman costume.“

"Yeah, it doesn’t have the S. What’s up with that?” you hear Ruth ask from the restroom, fixing her shiny Glinda the Good Witch crown over her hair.

“I’ve been telling you guys I’m Doctor Strange this year!” Chuck whined, waving his orange gloves around and pointing to the round gold plastic clip that held his red cape around his shoulders.

You adjust your black headband cat ears, “Alright then Doctor Strange, do you think Auggie’s really going to be a vampire again this year?” you ask.

Right on time you hear knocking on the door, Stella’s blonde wig flashing by the front window. Chuck opens the door to Count Dracula and Melanie Daniels.

“Well, how do we look?” Auggie bares his pair of plastic pointy teeth. Stella brushes past the tall boy and poses in her green suit with two pinned mock birds secured on her jacket, you give her two thumbs up.

“That’s a vampire alright.” Ramón answers you from behind.

“I am Dracula, big significant difference. And why aren’t you dressed?” Auggie huffs, everyone turning to look at Ramón.

Ramón shrugs, “Guess I ran out of time to come up with something. But okay, if we find a cowboy hat and a red bandanna at this party… then I’m your cowboy.” he suggests, sending you a wink as you shake your head. Already wearing his leather jacket and a white shirt, everyone accepted his excuse- mumbling something about getting him an actual costume next year.

The party Ramón mentioned is the one big Halloween party being thrown at some cheerleader’s house this year, just about every teen in Mill Valley was invited and Ruth insisted on leading the five of you into it. The Good Witch glides out of the restroom, “Very well then children, off we go.” she announces, pointing her small wand to the door.

Everyone decided to walk to the party (with the exception of Ramón giving you a piggyback ride halfway there) since it was only three blocks away from the Steinberg household. Once you got to the two-story house guarded by jack-o-lanterns and several skeletons, you could hear the chatter and music from outside.

“This place is a freaking mansion. Should we knock?” Chuck held his hand over the front double doors. Before anyone could reply, the right door swung open and a tall, lanky Mickey Mouse pushed his way out. Behind him, a giggling Minnie Mouse hot on his trail.

“Well I’m gonna go find Chelsea, okay? I don’t want to see any of you drinking anything that’s been handed to you, especially you Chuck.” Ruth warned, making her point clear as she stood in front of the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Inside, you immediately recognized half of Mill Valley High seniors dancing in the spacious living room. Before you could take another step you felt an arm wrap around your waist, stopping you from running into the supporting pillar of the extensive staircase. Realizing the arm belonged to Ramón, you turned around, already losing yourself in his eyes and thanked him.

Before either of you could say anything else, you hear Chuck snicker to Auggie, “Guess he should be her boyfriend for Halloween, huh?” Auggie rolls his eyes and groans, didn’t seem like the first time Chuck made that joke so far. Auggie and Stella push Chuck into the crowd before he opened his mouth again. Ramón’s eyes move from Chuck to you as if he was checking for your reaction. After you give him a blank look -hoping to seem like you didn’t hear it, he suggests going to the kitchen.

In there, several band kids were cheering on Frankenstein to drink what remained of a Vodka bottle sneaked from the upstairs study. Others simply danced around the kitchen, while two girls were impressively dancing on the counter without knocking any drinks or snacks. The two of you push your way to the bowls of candy, you grab a cup and fill it to the brim with peanut M&Ms.

You turn to Ramón, getting close to his ear “Let’s go dance.” you say over the music and the kitchen crowd hoots, which were now on a mummy and a wolf competing on who could finish their drink first.

Ramón pulls you closer, “Sorry, but I can’t dance.” he shrugs. You scoff, noticing a tiny abandoned cowboy hat sitting on the counter, you place it on his head.

“I don’t believe you, cowboy.” happy with his smile from his new nickname, you grab his hand and lead him to the living room. Unable to spot your friends, you start dancing on the spot. Your only audience being Ramón, who took his place leaning against the wall to admire you.

After two songs you send Ramón a pout, “You can’t just stand there the whole night.” waving him closer.

“I can if it’s you, kitty.” he laughs, stepping closer to you, “C'mon, let’s go outside. It’s getting pretty stuffy in here."

Putting his hand on the small of your back, Ramón leads you through a hall and over to a small porch on the side of the house. He quickly turned off the porch light to avoid the interest of others joining the two of you there.

The sudden lack of light made you jump, taking your eyes time to adjust to the moonlight as the two of you sit on the porch swing. Ramón chuckles, apologizing for scaring you before unexpectedly pulling you closer to kiss your forehead.

You freeze, heart beating a 100 miles per hour. Did he just… kiss your forehead? You gaze into his dark eyes, "You’re absolutely adorable and gorgeous, you know that?” he asks before you could say anything else.

You roll your eyes, “Of course I am, cowboy. You’re lucky I spend my precious time with you almost all day, everyday.” you tease, drawing a sweet smile from him.

“I sure am.” he confides softly, still holding you close. You bite your bottom lip, trying your best from spilling your heart out on that porch. You were sure he could probably hear it hammering against your chest by now.

Ramón’s eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. Caressing your face, he presses two small kisses on your cheek before stopping at your lips, waiting for you to close the distance. You meet his soft lips, wrapping an arm around his neck. He lets out a low hum while you softly run your fingers through his hair, knocking off the small hat.

You smile into the kiss, briefly breaking away just a bit, “No spiders there.”

~Feedback is always appreciated!

#ramon morales #scary stories to tell in the dark #ramon morales x reader #august hilderbrandt #stella nicholls #chuck steinberg #ssttitd #mine #hello i wanna marry this yeehaw boi #spare hand in marriage sir?? hmm?#reader insert

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john1513kjv-blog · 5 years

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My Testimony: How Jesus saved my life (multiple times)

I was born and raised in a religious family (notably Catholic). Growing up I went to mass every Sunday, believing in God, Jesus, and the Virgin Mary (not really as much); or so I thought I did. In my middle school and high school years, I was like everyone else. I thought that everything was fine and that there was nothing wrong with the things I did (like lying, stealing things behind my parents’ back, cussing, saying rude things behind my parents’ back when they told me things I didn’t like.)

Though I didn’t realize somewhere down the line; things were about to change for me and my family. 2011 was the year that my grandma died and it affected everyone in my family, including my mom. Life hasn’t been the same for her. Once a happy soul eager to have people around, now is always suspicious of others, not wanting to go out or visit anyone, claiming people are out to get her. I didn’t understand much of what was happening. I just simply thought my mom was crazy. But at the same time, I wondered why God let this happen? Again, I didn’t thought much of it, I simply did more things things that were considering wrong in God’s eyes (like lying to my mom that my aunt called me and cursed my mom when I only called a local gamestop store to get a game I wanted, looking up porn due to a dare from a so-called “friend” and looking up fetish art)

In high school I dated this japanese-american guy who was an atheist, he was the one who proposed to me. At the time, I didn’t know much about what love was. It wasn’t until my parents found and got angry, not for the fact he was an atheist, but for the fact that I was texting him many times in class and it raised the price on the phone bill. My dad furiously told me to end the relationship immediately. I was really upset about it, yet I did as I was told. It hurt my now ex boyfriend and I was mad at what my parent’s said to me. So what I did was told him to just pretend to be friends but to keep the relationship a secret. It worked for only a month until my now ex told me that what I was doing was wrong to lie to my parent’s behind their backs. I didn’t understand at first until he wanted to end our relationship. Without question, I did what he told me and again I was upset. Little did I know that Jesus was doing me a favor. Had he not intervene, I would have ended up a homeless teen mom.

After breaking ties with the Catholic Church (due to my mom’s irrational, mental instability), my dad sought help elsewhere. We went to this Christian Church that supposedly teaches from the Bible but something about it was missing. My dad told me that he felt that there was something wrong in that church. Was it due to the fact it held church services on Sunday instead of the seventh day (Saturday) as the Bible said? Again, I didin’t think much of it. I went to this “revival”, not because I wanted to look for Christ, but for worldly pleasures.

Come 2014, and my dad was searching something on the TV (something to watch or perhaps something related to the Bible). That wasn’t until He found a channel called “El Evangelio Eterno” (in English: The Everlasting Gospel). Namely this Pastor (who’s the head pastor of this ministry) was preaching something that none of us has ever heard, the three angels’ message.

REVELATION 14:6-12

6 And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, 7 Saying with a loud voice, Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come: and worship him that made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters. 8 And there followed another angel, saying, Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city, because she made all nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her fornication. 9 And the third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, If any man worship the beast and his image, and receive his mark in his forehead, or in his hand, 10 The same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation; and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb: 11 And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: and they have no rest day nor night, who worship the beast and his image, and whosoever receiveth the mark of his name. 12 Here is the patience of the saints: here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus.

From then on, my dad wanted to know more of what they were preaching and that’s when they announced that they were opening a church a few miles away to where we live.The first one who went there was my dad. I didn’t pay that much attention to my dad when he watched the channel nor what they were saying or teaching. But one day (it was a Saturday), out of curiousity, I asked my dad if I wanted to come with him and he said yes. From there I always went with him to church, but at the same time, I was missing something. I learned about all the prophecies of the end times, that Jesus was coming real soon, about God’s real day of rest (Saturday), learned about the health reform that God can heal us, not just spiritually, but also from our physical illnesses too. I learned all these things, yet something was still missing. In September 2, 2017, our pastor preached to us (in a sermon of the end times) that Donald Trump signed the executive order to make Sunday, National Day of Prayer as a response to for the victims of hurricane Harvey.

At that moment, I was scared. I felt my heart racing. I thought to myself, “If I don’t get baptized soon, I might get left behind and receive the mark of the beast”. So I was one of the few people that got baptized that day, and that’s when I gave my life to Jesus. I studied more of God’s word, made a YouTube Channel to teach end-time prophecies, used my old social media accounts to spread the gospel (or so I thought I did) and I let go some of the things that I used to like (like stealing, secular music, looking up things that were not centered around God, video games [mostly because I was addicted to them and were the main reason I lied to my mom to get me a game]) and I thought I was saved. 2 years went by, I gave gospel tracts (but only at the front door because I was a little bit shy on what to say), and made posters that show the pagan origins of every holiday celebrated (except for thanksgiving).

Every Sabbath became dull, and everytime a sermon on end time prophecy is preached, I always listen yet feel the conviction of the Holy Spirit and I end up crying because I felt like I haven’t done much for the Lord. Everyday I always had a nagging feeling inside that something was wrong. It was until then I started developing a small legalistic mindset (meaning that if I didn’t do enough of what I was taught, I wasn’t gonna make it. Let me tell you, it affected my character greatly. I tried confronting people (including my old church friends) that what they were believing in was wrong and I used Scripture to convince them that they were wrong (instead of using it in a correct and humble manner) and they would fight back and I couldn’t be able to respond either because I didn’t know much of something or I didn’t want to risk embarassing myself. I became self righteous, but in the inside (I was good at masking my character) I started watching conspiracy videos and things involving the New World Order and the Illuminati and thought that God wanted me to tell people about it. I only told a few people about it, little by little, with a little bit of bible prophecy, yet I was still scared.

Overtime, I was interested in learning a little bit about the health reform that I signed up to be a medical missionary, so I can learn how God can heal people physically and spiritually (like how Jesus preached and healed people as well). I remember signing up and was super exciting about it. It was very interesting to learn at first, but just like church, it became very dull. Along with my legalistic mindset, I developed some minor depression, anxieties, which didn’t help that I suffer from a mild case of ADHD (a mental disorder I had since birth).

These things filled my soul with even more but I didn’t want to admit it. Come May 24, 2019, I went to this church retreat center in the mountain, where they were going to do seminars on the art of apologetics. The third day, I was there and I got up early to attend church service in the main audience hall. I didn’t remember much about what the pastor was preaching but I remember hearing something along the lines of the pastor saying, “God has given us all this light to share to the world” “What exactly are we doing with that light?” The sermon hit me hard that day and my anxieties rised up again and I felt extreme fear inside, that God didn’t want me anymore because I didn’t do enough. After the service ended, a sister from the service stopped me as I was leaving. She told me, “What is wrong? Why were you crying?” I told her my problems and I mentioned to her that I haven’t brought a soul to Christ for 2 years and felt like I wasn’t good enough. She responded kindly with: “Everyone in the church feels like that, including myself. That’s why we come to learn how to do these things. God knows your heart, and knows that you want to serve Him, but you just have to be patient and He will let you know when it’s the right time to do it. You don’t have to do everything at once because God didn’t call you to do any of that. The reason is that you’re not completely ready yet and He is still teaching you His word. He won’t let you carry more than you can handle. Just keep your eyes on Him and you’ll be fine.” I listened to her and thanked her.

The last thing I remember I ran to my cabin and I went down on my knees crying with all my heart, “Thank you God, Thank Jesus, Thank you for saving me, for sending me this sister to comfort me. If it wasn’t for you, I would have called it quits. Forgive me Lord, for losing sight of why I am here. Forgive me for having this legalistic mindset, for being decieved to think that works saved me when you did it all for me through the sacrifice of your only Begotten Son. If I have to wait 5, 10, or even 20 years for me to be where you want me to be Lord, I’ll wait. All I ask is to never let you go and to never lose sight of you.” After that, I felt like the weight of my chest was lifted off. I understood God’s grace and mercy on someone like me. A 23-year-old woman with ADHD, a quirky sense of humor, artistic talent, yet always tries her best to love others. Jesus saved my life many times in my past, even now. All because He loved me enough to die for not only for me but for you who’s reading this.

That’s right, He loves you also. He loves you enough that He died so that you and I could be free from your sins and reconnect with God. All it takes to turn away from your sinful lifestyle (whether it be drugs, prostitution, masturbation, homosexuality, theft, hatred, alcoholism, addiction of any kind), and learn to live for Jesus. <3

JOHN 3:16-20

16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17 For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.

18 He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. 19 And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.

20 For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither* cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. 21 But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God.

#my testimony #testimony #how jesus saved my life #christianity #god is real #god is love #god is good

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raisingsupergirl · 3 years

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A New Age Dawning

I once met a Freemason who said he changed his career ever seven years, a concept he based on the seventh sabbatical year of the Old Testament. And it wasn’t like he moved to a different position within the same career field. He made drastic changes: professor, salesman, laborer, etc. And in different parts of the country, too. At first, I thought he was lying. Then I thought he was running from something. But in the end, I envied him. We only get one life, so why spend it working toward a singular goal, no matter how grand? Why not reinvent yourself? Who wouldn’t jump on the chance to be reborn? And that idea stuck with me in a subtle way until I ran across it again in my Bible reading about a year ago. The year of Jubilee, it’s called. A year in which all debts are forgiven, all land is returned to its original owners, and everyone starts anew. Once every seven years. And do you know what’s a multiple of seven? Thirty five, which is exactly what I was going to be turning the next year. And not a moment too soon. You see, my life has been a series of seven-year “ages” in which I’ve grown and found new exciting experiences, but at the end of each age, I become anxious, bogged down with mundane frustration until I finally burst through into some new adventure. And like any good adventure, mine started with the First Age…

The First Age: Ignorance (0-7)

The first seven years of my life are my mobile home memories. A little trailer home on Dorlac Road. Avoiding cactuses in our dirt basketball court. Digging through overgrown lily pads and cattails to get to our fishing hole. Going to daycare with the lady who played the piano and the man who threw a fake duck to his Golden Retriever. And family. So much family. The four of us boys crammed onto the broke-down couch and drawing funny faces on TV Guide pictures. Mom cooking a four-pound meatloaf to feed us. Watching my older brothers play Zelda and Punch Out and Techmo Superbowl. Going fishing at the Mississippi river with Grandpa Winch. Watching baseball with Grandpa Collins. Playing Ninja Turtles and Dungeons & Dragons with my cousins. Being mad when everyone went to Grandma’s and had chicken pox, but I wasn’t allowed to go and have any for some reason. You see, Grandma was the BEST cook, and I was SURE Chicken Pox were delicious. Because at that time, I didn’t understand it. Any of it. All lights and colors and awe-inspiring mystery. But when I turned eight, my parents began taking us to this other place. A spot in the woods. And we started cutting down those woods, clearing a space big enough for a castle. And men came out and blew up the ground, making a big hole. Walls went up. So many walls. And then mom said I had to start going to school. Away from my family. Away from everything I knew. But there was one thing I knew then: Fear.

The Second Age: Innocence (7-14)

I remember my first night in the new house. How could anyone keep from getting lost in such a place. It was so dark, quiet, and cavernous. I got a cat soon after that, and he felt the same way. Skittish, hidden, afraid. I named him Kitty. Kitty was my first real pet, and he was one of my closest friends through that Second Age. But slowly, something started to happen within me. I started to realize that the new house wasn’t scary. The new house was warm, solid, enduring, safe. Even the woods around us were peaceful and inviting. Our pond didn’t have any lily pads or cattails. But it did have catfish. Huge ones. And they bit best at night on doughballs. The deepest parts of the woods had caves and bluffs and creeks. And I could wander as long as I wanted without a watch or a compass, and somehow I’d always end up back at home just before dark.

School wasn’t so bad, either. I was nice to the kids, and they were nice back. I even made some friends who lived within bike-riding distance. I think Greg and Zach were the first. They were older, but they lived on the same gravel road. And they liked cards. Not the boring ones that my brothers liked—the ones about sports. No, these new cards had superheroes on them. And some of them were games that let you BE a superhero and fight against your friends’ superheroes. They brought my Saturday morning cartoons to life, and my love for fantasy and imagination started to blossom. I met Brandon next. He was a new kid on the bus, and he had a cool toy. He became my best friend for many years. Together we explored the wilderness, conquered the FIRST Warcraft game, and discovered girls. And as I approached the end of the Second Age, a dark, hormonal shadow spread over my life of innocence.

The Third Age: Independence (14-25)

Middle school. I shouldn’t have to explain further, but I will. My friends grew armpit hair, and I didn’t. My friends made the basketball team, and I didn’t. My friends paired up with girlfriends, and I didn’t (except that one time when Elizabeth Stroble let me cut in the lunch line by her). I found purpose in football, and I found God at Bates Creek church camp. A girl said she liked me in high school, so I started dating her. Then she cheated on me with my previously-mentioned best friend. It was then, at the peak of puberty’s angst, that I first felt heartbreak. I forgave them both and remained friends with them. I then met some more lifelong friends of the most interesting kind—skaters. There was something about them that I identified with. Not the skating (I lived on a gravel road, remember?). But they were honest, raw, adventurous, unafraid. A little broken, but also honest and loyal. And they all had the best senses of humor. I was friendly toward everyone in high school (even nominated for “most congenial”), but it was with those skaters that I learned to really push the boundaries of my reality.

This epic Age, extending through college to a couple years beyond, was the most adventurous and transformative of my life. There’s so much to tell. My first drink of alcohol (a “hey, mister” bottle of Jack Daniels in the back of my friend’s van). Wild parties that ALWAYS ended with deep conversations. Cruising the strip in my red 1995 Camaro. A heart-wrenching breakup with my second girlfriend, which left both mental and physical scars. Finding true peace in my empty college bedroom with a cup of tea, a candle, and my first copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. And then finding my love of reading, writing, and LEARNING. Education was a concept that had been forced down my throat throughout school, so I never realized I actually LOVED learning new things until it became an option. But it wasn’t long into my college career when I started devouring philosophy, history, religion, and fantasy of all kinds. And then I met my future wife in a bowling alley, and everything changed. She wasn’t from my hometown. She didn’t know any of my family or my childhood friends. She had no interest in fantasy books or emo music. She was an enigma and an emotional mess. And she was perfect. From that point on, I plowed through the middle of the Third Age. My future wife graduated from college, I graduated the following year, and that summer, I passed my Boards, married the love of my life, went on my first vacation outside of the country (a blissful honeymoon to Cancun), and moved from Missouri to Virginia Beach to start my first “adult” job as a physical therapist. And just like that, I found myself sitting on a beach next to my wife, 1,000 miles from home.

It’s odd that it would take getting married to feel true independence. But college was just an evolution of high school. And in Virginia, the only person I knew was my wife, and I barely knew her. So as you can imagine, the next couple of years were hard. I had no big brothers or parents to show me how things were done. No friends to vent to. No familiar pets or woods to feel perfectly at home. No, this was an entirely new adventure for my new wife and me. We fought, we cried, we kissed, we fought some more, and we didn’t think we were going to make it. And then, one night after my shift at Busch Gardens Howl-o-Scream (yes, I moonlighted as a 6’5” axe-wielding zombie), I received a call. Well several calls, actually. And all of them said I needed to call home. Dad had been in a car accident. He was dead.

The next year was a blur. The darkest of my life. Gray. That’s all I remember. Grayness, confusion, doubt, hopelessness. I felt overworked and underqualified at a miserable job surrounded by immaturity, manipulation, and spite. I let the unresolved depression from losing my father destroy my relationship with my wife. And finally, at my wits end, I dragged said wife back home to Farmington (not my WIFE’s home, mind you. And that fact plagued our relationship for many years). Thus ended our time at Virginia Beach and the longest Age of my life.

The Fourth Age: Interlude (25-28?)

If the Third was the longest age, the Fourth was the shortest. From twenty-five to twenty-eight, in the wake of tragedy and what felt like betrayal, I slipped back into the comfort of things I knew. I found healing in writing—transforming memories and ideas into worlds and adventures that couldn’t harm me the way the real world had—and I was actually good at it! I also started work at my hometown clinic with my physical therapy mentor, which meant I was suddenly surrounded by people who knew everything about me. They UNDERSTOOD me. They comforted and uplifted me. For that I am forever grateful. But my dependance on the past also nearly broke the bond my wife and I had begun to forge in Virginia. She was jealous that I was home. I was jealous that she still had both parents. But slowly, after a lot of tears and a few broken pieces of furniture, we found each other again. There was no single epiphanous moment, but the defining word between us was commitment. Commitment to God and commitment to each other. Life started regaining some of its color, and I started trusting again. And then, after coming home from a hunting trip with my brothers one weekend, my wife told me she was pregnant.

The Fifth Age: Inquisition (28-35)

Gosh, what a whirlwind. My daughters’ stories are written in detail on this blog, so I won’t rehash them, but talk about nonstop adventure! In some ways, this has been the best Age of my life, but as I neared its end, the horizon again grew dark.

You see, through earlier tragedy and hardship, I had developed an, “If it is to be, it’s up to me,” mentality. Mostly because there were some unfortunate things that I couldn’t control but there were so many that I could. And it seemed like anything I really set my mind to was attainable. I’d landed my dream job. I’d also written novels, and those novels were getting closer and closer to publication. But slowly, my dream job became a monotonous chore, and my fledgling writing career started hitting one dead end after another. To the point where my literary agent finally broke ties, and after writing five novels, I didn’t have the strength to write another one. And tragically, I let those facts define me.

Of course, it’s such a tragedy because I was finally living a fruitful life with my wife and two super girls! On top of that, I’d become a freemason and met more lifelong friends, and toward the end of the Age, I’d embarked on a nearly year-long introspective journey with five other Christian men. But none of that mattered because I didn’t know who I was. I’d failed at writing, my “day job” became a drain on my spirit, and no matter how much I tried, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

And here we are. On the cusp of a new age. Last week, I finished my last meeting with those five amazing Christian men, and they have saved me. Truly. Well, they have helped me back to God’s purpose in my life: Achieving Adventure. Before that, I was dying inside, and I didn’t know why. I HAD to achieve something. ANYTHING (as if a wife, kids, and a successful career weren’t enough). But the ruts were so deep that finding a new path felt impossible. Too late in the game. Another has-been who had come so close but ultimately wasted all of his God-given potential. Talk about a classic mid-life crisis. And then came those 6 a.m. meetings. The conversations will likely fade into distant memory, but the effects will stay with me forever. Those men helped me realize what I’ve been chasing my whole life: adventure, exploration, the unknown. I LOVE learning, remember? I love growing. Not achieving, just growing. And the energy that burst from that realization has pushed me out of my ruts. It’s renewed my passion for physical therapy to the point where I’ve landed a promotion that promises new adventures. And my passion for writing, though still not quite renewed, is starting to flicker in my soul again. I have my strongest manuscript back in my hands, professionally edited and full of potential. Even if it’s never published, I will soon dive back into that adventure of my own creation. And that’s not all.

Next week I will attend my final meeting as Master of Farmington Masonic Lodge #132, and I will thank those Freemason brothers for an amazing five-year adventure that I will forever be grateful for. On that same day, I will celebrate the ribbon cutting of a new physical therapy clinic, and I will act as it’s clinic coordinator. Soon, my family and I will move to a new home—a place with explorable woods and a blank canvas of possibility.

The Sixth Age: Untitled

I have no clue what this Sixty Age will bring. I don’t know how many more Ages I’ll get to experience after that. But as I write this, I find myself smiling. The mystery fuels me, and my anxiety finally feels more like excitement again. I’m on a new adventure, and I get to take it with my three best friends: my wife is more of a trusted and true co-pilot than ever, my nearly four-year-old is in the midst of her blissful Age of Ignorance, and my seven-year-old is on the cusp of her own Second Age! What a time to be alive.

I’m about to enter the Sixth Age, friends. Another chapter of my life. And I can’t wait to share the adventure with you.

#phases of life #my life story #life stages #momblr #dadblr #mumblr #a new age #midlife crisis #crisis averted #achieving adventure #adventure

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dfroza · 4 years

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the One who fashioned Heaven and earth and created the seas and the springs

this is our Creator who is seen written of in the Scriptures, just as John wrote down the words of the Revelation given to him nearly 2,000 years ago.

Today’s chapter of the New Testament of the Bible is Revelation 14:

The scene changed. I looked and saw the Lamb standing on top of Mount Zion, and with Him were the 144,000 who had His name and His Father’s name inscribed on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven roaring like a waterfall and clapping like thunder. The voice I heard was like a symphony of harpists playing their instruments. As I watched, they began to sing a new song before the throne, the four living creatures, and the twenty-four elders. The only ones with the ability to learn this song were the 144,000 who had been rescued from the earth, virgins who had not given themselves to sexual relations. They follow the Lamb wherever He goes. They have been purchased from among humanity as the firstfruits, set apart for God and the Lamb. In their mouths, no lie was found; no blemish marred them.

I saw another messenger flying through midheaven. He carried an eternal gospel, bringing good news to all the citizens of the earth—every ethnicity, nation, language, and people.

Heavenly Messenger (with a loud voice): Fear God. Give Him glory, for the time of judgment has arrived. Worship the One who fashioned heaven and earth and created the seas and the springs.

Another messenger, a second, came along.

Second Messenger: Fallen, fallen is Babylon, the great city! She has intoxicated all the nations with the wine of the wrath of her sexual perversion.

Another messenger, a third, followed.

Third Messenger (with a loud voice): Those who worship the beast and its image, and all who receive its mark on their foreheads or on their hands, will be forced to drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured out undiluted into the cup of God’s anger. And they will face the torment of fire and the agony of sulfurous flames before the holy messengers and the Lamb. The smoke of their torment will rise throughout the ages for eternity. Day and night will come and go without pause or cessation. There will be no end to the torture experienced by those who worship the beast and its image and by those who receive the mark of its name.

Here is the patient endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and remain faithful to Jesus.

Then I heard a voice call out from heaven.

A Voice: Record this: “Blessed are the dead who have died in the Lord from now until the end.”

Spirit: Yes, they will rest from their labors because their deeds remain with them.

Then I saw a white cloud, and seated on the cloud was one like the Son of Man, a golden wreath atop His head and a sharp sickle in His hand. Another messenger proceeded from the temple and called with a loud voice to the One who sat on the cloud.

Heavenly Messenger: Take Your sickle and reap the harvest, because the harvest of the earth is full and ripe and because the time to harvest has come.

Then the One seated on the cloud swung His sickle over the earth, and the earth gave up its harvest.

Just then another messenger proceeded out of the heavenly temple. He also had a sharp sickle. Then another messenger (the one with authority over fire) came out from the altar, and he called with a loud voice to the one who had the sharp sickle.

Messenger of Fire: Take your sharp sickle and gather together the clusters of grapes from the vines of the earth, for the grapes are ripe and ready for harvest.

So the heavenly messenger swung his sickle over the earth, gathered the fruit of the vine from the earth, and threw it into the great winepress, which is the wrath of God. And the winepress was trampled outside of the city, and blood flowed from the winepress. The blood ran deep. It reached as high as the bridle on a horse and ran for the distance of about 185 miles.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 14 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter from the Old Testament is Numbers 15 that contains specific instructions given to Moses under the terms of the old covenant that culminated in the revelation of grace in the new covenant revealed by the True illumination of the Son:

[Numbers 15]

The Eternal One spoke to Moses about sacrifices.

Eternal One: Give the Israelites these instructions: “When you enter the land I determined would be yours, where you’ll settle and make your homes, and when you burn a food offering, burnt offering, or sacrifice of meat from the herd or flock to make a pleasing aroma for Me; you should always accompany it with a grain offering—about two quarts of really good flour mixed with about one quart of oil. Do this whether your offering is a sworn vow or something you’re freely offering during the appointed festival. Oh, and give a drink offering of some wine: about one quart for each lamb whenever you make a sacrifice or offering. For bigger animals like a ram offer about four quarts of flour and about one and one-quarter quarts of oil, and make about one and one-quarter quarts for the drink offering of wine. All of this will be a soothing aroma to Me. For a bull (whether burnt or simply as a sacrifice to satisfy a promise or as an offering of well-being), about six quarts of flour mixed with about two quarts of oil, and make the drink offering two quarts of wine. Offer it by fire to make a soothing smell to Me. This is how you should offer oxen or rams, male lambs, or young goats. The specified accompaniments are for a single animal, so increase it based on the number of offerings you make. Every Israelite should follow these instructions for an offering by fire to make a soothing smell for Me. Others who happen to be living among you temporarily or permanently should offer sacrifices in the same way. There should be no difference throughout the community in this matter—Israelite or not—forever. You and the foreigner dwelling with you are the same, as I see it, so you all should follow the same rules and regulations.”

(to Moses) Tell the Israelites this as well: “After you’ve entered the land that I’m taking you to, whenever you enjoy the land’s bread, give a contribution to Me by raising up your offering to Me. Just as you set aside a little grain on the threshing floor, so you and your descendants should set aside a little cake loaf from the first batch, as an offering to Me.

“If, somehow, someone overlooked or otherwise accidentally failed to do what I spelled out through Moses for the congregation (all those commandments from the first day I gave them to you and throughout coming generations), and it only came to the attention of the community after the fact, then the whole congregation should offer a bull together. Offer all of it by fire so that it smells good to Me along with the requisite grain and drink offerings, and sacrifice a male goat since it was a sin of sorts. In the process, the priest will cover all the Israelites, and they’ll be forgiven, for it was an unintentional offense. So, if they do all the right things to rectify the situation, then everyone (and not just native Israelites but even all the other people who happen to be living with them at the time) will be forgiven.

“If an individual sins by accident (and the congregation catches it in time), he should offer a female yearling goat as the sin offering. Thereby the priest shall cover that individual who sins accidentally in front of Me. Now that the mistake is covered, that person shall be forgiven. This is the way it should be for Israelites and outsiders alike—for anyone who accidentally errs. If it’s not an accident—the guilty person simply didn’t care about abiding by the instructions I gave to the Israelites through Moses and knowingly disregarded them—that’s different. Such a person, whether an Israelite or a stranger, has essentially rejected God. The community will ostracize him, and he’ll have to bear the burden of his guilt.”

One time, when the Israelites were wandering in the wilderness, it was discovered that somebody had broken the Sabbath rest commandment by gathering firewood. The people who saw the man brought him to Moses and Aaron and the gathered congregation. They weren’t sure what to do with him because nothing had been declared yet, so they kept him confined. The Eternal One told Moses the man should be killed, that the whole congregation should take him outside the camp and stone him to death. So they did just as the Eternal told them to do and executed him.

Once again the Eternal One spoke to Moses.

Eternal One: Tell the Israelites to make fringes on each corner of their clothes and include a blue thread in each fringe. They should do this forever, as it will bring to mind all My commandments and remind them not to wander off to do whatever their eyes see or hearts desire, and pursue them without restraint. Instead, they will remember and do all of My commandments and be holy to your God.

I, the Eternal One, am your True God, the One who brought you out of Egypt to be your God. I am the Eternal One, your True God.

The Book of Numbers, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, june 7 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

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lost-opium-artblog · 7 years

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The day Cendre got beaten up by Lazarus ( @skizoh‘s ghoul, check dat ghoul he is hot), they came back to Phyllis. Who cares about dignity when you are half dead, right? :’D And for your beautiful eyes, a little part of the fanfiction written by Phyllis’ owner, my lovely xxdhxx <3 You can also read the whole story HERE and I can tell it’s damn good! <3 Cendre tried again to sit up, but she pushed them back down with the barrel of her gun. “Not today, tadpole. You’ve been out like a light for two days now, and I am not about to get murdered after everything I’ve just been through.” She fingered at her sleeve, pulling out another cigarette and shoving it back up into its hold. Balancing her gun in her lap, she flicked open her lighter in a fluid motion, exhaling in a strong smelling cloud of smoke. Outside of the notion of a tar-preserved body, she had brought chain smoking to a fine art. She patted back at the tattered pant leg of Cendre. Reaching to a small shelf clinging to the wall, she unscrewed the cap of a thermos and handed it to them. “Best you try to get some fluid in your body, there. Even ol’ Lazarus was probably dry as a stick when he came back.” In attempting to hand the cup to Cendre, their hands froze at the mention of Lazarus. The thermos and its contents slid between their hands and began to empty on the matress. “FUCKING’—- REALLY?!” she said, grabbing at it and capping the lid back on it like she had caught a hornet. “I SWEAR, someone up there is testing me with you! Do you know how many times I passed this through the fucking filter?!” It seemed to go on deaf ears. The slightest film of tears could be seen welling up in their eyes. Phyllis sighed slightly and screwed the lid back up, putting the thermos on the stand and standing back up. With the gentleness of a ICU nurse she lifted up Cendre’s body, putting a pillow between them and the wall so they would at least be upright.

“Okay okay, I was in the wrong. Probably not best I assume you got all your cylinders firin’ after such a bad mess. Didn’t mean to come in like the Revolution.” she straightened herself. “Now. We’re going to try this again, and all you’re gonna do is swallow. You got that, kiddo?” The wet, blank look of Cendre slid to her for a few moments before twin tears fell down their face. They nodded, but if asked, couldn’t tell what they were nodding for. She unscrewed the cap and tilted it back. At first some of the water jumped down the front of them and into the fabric of their bandages, but at the memory of drinking their lips slowly took in the rest of it until it had been emptied. Phyllis put it back on the shelf and patted at Cendre’s hands. “Much better.” She smiled with matronly satisfaction. “Least part of your skinny ass has some self preservation left in it.” “Lazarus...” muttered Cendre. Their fingers began to knit together. Dirty nails sank into equally dirty flesh, the skin blanching in little mounds around the pressure.

“You betcha’, just like Lazarus rising,” she said again. Her response had the slight sing-song lilt of a mother responding to a young child. “Maybe all of Phyllis’ night-time bible stories are finally sinking in.” She looked at them again, realizing that they were still miles away in their own head. They dryly muttered the name again, fingers pulled so tight together it looked like they’d snap at the knuckles. “Yeah,” she responded, an awkwardness in her voice unusual for the situation. “Dead for four days and risin’ by the healin’ hands of the Good Lord. Well— I guess in your case Jesus had a mighty need for you, eh? He brought you back in just two.” Cendre looked her straight on. Tiredness had hung dark circles under already sunken eyes for both of them, but there still remained that edge of fear in hers. “Why? How?” Untangling thier fingers from one another, they rubbed slightly at their head. If it was the stimpak or her scant medical knowledge, they were just happy to be up and conscious. The pain was deep and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t felt before. Like open wounds and bad business, they all closed up in due time. “Honey, I think yer probably real tired. I don’t know how or why you didn't die. Probably cause’ yer’ so damned stubborn. Or maybe they got’ folks hafta’ reach a certain weight to get past the pearly gates.” The sound of a fight down the street acted as a buffer between her sentences, however unpleasant. What was normally ignorable now sent both of them on edge: Cendre tensed visibly while Phyllis kept her fingers firmly in the lock-and-pull position. A bit of ash fell onto her bosom. “What I wanna know is who the hell did this to ya’. Aint no right-thinking soul in Goodneighbor is capable of this, and if there a whole bunch of them then Mayor United-Air is gonna’ want to know what to expect.” She shifted her weight slightly, lowering the gun back towards the floor. “I mean, got enough folks here with guns and what have you to fight off all the dirtbags creeping around these parts. Whatever sick sunnuvah’ bitches did this to you, we’ll get em’—“ “NO,” said Cendre sternly. “You can’t. They can’t. It’s— you can’t get back at this person, trust me.” “Kiddo, Phyllis can get back at whoever she wants. I ain’t no spring chicken but you don’t live as long as I do by bein’ a dumb sack of bricks, either.” “No! I mean— you can’t. You just can’t.” Cendre motioned wildly with their hands. “You are always saying ‘just trust me’, but this is something you have to trust me on, ehn?” The following silence was palpable. It seemed like the distance between them grew a few centimeters. “Who did this to you, tadpole?” she asked, finger still sliding along the trigger of her gun. “No one. I mean— I don’t know, maybe someone. I didn’t see them.” Silence. Phyllis leaned slightly closer, plucking the cigarette from her mouth and giving him a steadying glare with her black eyes. “You’re telling me. As a mercenary. As in a devil hired ‘a go out there and hunt other devils. That someone came close enough to you to do this kinda blunt damage. And you didn’t. see. them.” She spaced the words out carefully, putting weight on them in place of curse words she’d rather say. Dumbstruck, Cendre looked at her again before breaking the staring contest. They wiped at their eyes again and shook their head. Pursing her thin lips, she leaned back into the cool wooden slats of the wall. Her gaze shifted from item to item on the floor. They sat in silence again, sharing the heavy space between them like a one-way mirror. “Listen. I think you and me are real tired,” she tilted her shotgun to the side, putting the lock back up and letting it lean up against the end of the mattress. “Why don’t you get some sleep, we’ll talk about this more when yer’ on yer’ toes and not still in shock. You can tell me who did this after some—“ Before she could finish her sentence, Cendre had nearly launched themselves from the wall into her lap, grasping at her hands solidly. She jumped in surprise, in part from the fast movement and in part because the young patient was a hair’s width from touching cheeks with her. “Please, Grandma. Mamie. Non, S’il vous plaît.” Another tear slid down their face and she was caught by the sheer sincerity of it. Neither of them were the kind of person to let the other see a weak spot, even at their most tender. But here?... Something new was here. Some new wound, some new lease on ‘life’. Something. Cendre grasped at her hands again, struggling weakly to make their point. “You let me live, yes? So that you took in two dogs from the street just to die?” Her eye twitched slightly. She pulled her hands out of theirs and brushed down her jeans. Redness colored her face as she took in a sharp breath. “Two things. One, don’t you ever call yourself a ‘dog’ in front of me unless you want to get slapped into next tuesday. An’ two,...” Her hands stalled, though the emotion could be heard in the whisper of her reply. “...I died a long, long time ago, honey.” She waited for tears to come, but between tear ducts that had probably scarred over by then & forced dehydration to save clean water, her body didn’t respond to the call. There was no use trying to barter with either side. If by anger or exhaustion, Cendre’s emotions over the ordeal could no longer hold them back. Crumpling into her lap, they covered their face and wept. Over their error of judgement. Over her impending murder. Over every little mistake and misfortune that had chased them across the dry corpse of New America, they wept. And while they did Phyllis calmly brushed their side, humming a familiar tune.

#fallout #ghoul #fallout oc #cendre #oc #phyllis #oc of friends #xxdhxx #mardi-gras #dog #fallout 4 #fanfiction #not written by me!#fanart #lazarus #skizoh

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a-good-life-love · 5 years

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Getting Used Is No longer for Sissies I just isn’t any longer going to admit to being venerable, but I am older than I changed into 10 years within the past. These 10 years were filled with all styles of issues serving to me to was older. I seen a piece of writing that talked about that 60 is the fresh 40. I haven’t any belief what meaning, but I catch out in our culture there could be an obsession about age. Of us cannot accept growing older. This year changed into the 50th anniversary of my excessive faculty graduation. Sadly, I did now not fetch to scramble, but I did peruse many of the photos from that occasion. Having a procure a look at these photos, I did now not know the device venerable my excessive faculty site visitors in actual fact had been. It potentially changed into a correct thing that I did now not scramble for a unfold of reasons. The Edifying Mistress of the Parsonage and I had been sitting around playing an evening cup of coffee. Nothing like a correct sizzling cup of coffee to resolve the nerves. It’s no longer that I in actual fact procure nerves, but it’s ultimate an excuse to drink coffee. I catch of what my venerable uncle Ed veteran to divulge, “I by no methodology had a foul cup of coffee, but I function confess I in actual fact procure had a cup that changed into better than others.” That appears to be my sentiment as properly. The older I fetch, the more I be pleased my coffee. 365 days I tried to substitute from coffee to sizzling tea. Sorta just like the Britons function. Let me relate I did now not closing the whole year with ingesting sizzling tea. No shock Britains focus on with an accent. I distinct to scramble aid to coffee and I am unanimous in that resolution. Getting aid to my wife and me ingesting coffee together, the conversation shifted within the direction of how venerable we in actual fact are. “Boy, we’ve advance a prolonged methodology, haven’t we?” I catch my wife is correct in that sing. We spent a few moments reminiscing about what other folk name the “correct venerable days.” I procure to relate we had loads of of them. Obviously, my wife remembers more of them and the information about them then I function. Nonetheless that’s k. Sharing a memory is one amongst the huge blessings of lifestyles. It is a ways frequently talked about by obvious other folk that we be mindful issues within the past better than we function issues that procure occurred this day. I affiliate with that. I cannot be mindful what I had for breakfast this day, but I function be mindful what I changed into doing 50 years within the past. Fifty years within the past, I started my Bible faculty days. Then, a year later I met what grew to was the Edifying Mistress of the Parsonage. These memories are forever etched in my mind. What is unparalleled about this is that I can be mindful more information each and every year than I did the year sooner than. Oh, isn’t memory a intellectual wanting thing. The thing that troubles me is that my wife remembers a memory loads of than I do now not put out of your mind that identical memory. She begins a conversation by announcing, “Operate you be mindful …” Then she’ll scramble off when some memory deep within the past. About a of the information of that memory look like familiar, but I affiliate with her. It is a ways highly ultimate to procure memories and every person has memories. The thing is, another folk procure correct memories and another folk up harmful memories. Any other folk put off to center of attention on their harmful memories and others put off to center of attention on their correct memories. The opposite day I forgot one thing I changed into searching to preserve in mind. For the lifestyles of me, I can also no longer commit it to memory. Why is it that chances are you’ll per chance well per chance no longer be mindful so0me issues which can per chance well be going on correct now? Then it hit me. My memory is like a computer disk, which has a obvious quantity of memory on it. As soon as you exercise the whole memory, chances are you’ll per chance well per chance no longer keep from now on memories on it. You must well per chance even procure to fetch a brand fresh disc. I shock if that is what’s going on with my memory? Maybe I in actual fact procure veteran up most of my memory apartment. I shared this with my wife and he or she checked out me and talked about, “I catch you procure one thing there.” My memory just isn’t any longer reasonably that harmful, but I can by no methodology be mindful her announcing the relaxation along that line especially to me. I ultimate went along with her. “Maybe,” my wife talked about reasonably thoughtfully, “we are in a position to also composed delete memories within the past that we no longer need. That will function room for stamp fresh memories.” Finest my wife can also advance up with one thing like that. Nonetheless as she talked on, it sounded like a correct thing to function. I checked out her and talked about, “Are you able to expose me the build the delete button is on our memory?” “Silly boy,” she talked about, “function I in actual fact procure to take into memoir all the pieces?” No topic the resolution, I catch it’s miles crucial to function room for stamp fresh memories. Devour these within the past, but function no longer let the past hinder the present. Pondering on these items it passed off to me that getting venerable just isn’t any longer for sissies. It takes a accurate man and a accurate lady to blossom into venerable age. As soon as chances are you’ll per chance well per chance also be no longer careful, getting venerable can wear you out each and every bodily and mentally. Racy about this I believed of what David talked about. “They shall abundantly relate the memory of thy huge goodness, and shall instruct of thy righteousness” (Psalm 145: 7). No memory is more healthy and more refreshing than my occasions with God. CHAMPION STORE NIKE STORE ADIDAS STORE CALVIN KLIEN STORE LACOSTE STORE WATCHES STORE LIFE STORE TOOLS STORE Related ProductsLoading products..

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carolap53 · 3 years

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A Horrible Destiny . . . Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come. (1 Thessalonians 1:10)

Do you remember the time you were lost as a child, or slipping over a precipice, or about to drown? Then suddenly you were rescued. You held on for “dear life.” You trembled for what you almost lost. You were happy. O, so happy, and thankful. And you trembled with joy.

That’s the way I feel at the end of the year about my rescue from God’s wrath. All day Christmas we had a fire in the fireplace. Sometimes the coals were so hot that when I stoked it my hand really hurt. I pulled back and shuddered at the horrendous thought of the wrath of God against sin in hell. O how unspeakably horrible that will be!

Christmas afternoon I visited a woman who had been burned over 87 percent of her body. She has been in the hospital since August. My heart broke for her. How wonderful it was to hold out hope to her from God’s word! But I came away not only thinking about her pain in this life, but also about the everlasting pain I have been saved from through Jesus.

Test my experience with me. Is this trembling joy a fitting way to end the year? Paul was glad that the Lord from heaven is “Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come” (1 Thessalonians 1:10). He warned that “for those who do not obey the truth there will be wrath and fury” (Romans 2:8). And “because of [fornication, impurity and covetousness] the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience” (Ephesians 5:6).

Here at the end of the year, I am finishing my trek through the Bible and reading the last book, Revelation. It is a glorious prophecy of the triumph of God, and the everlasting joy of all who “take the water of life without price” (22:17). No more tears, no more pain, no more depression, no more sorrow, no more death (21:4).

But O, the horror of not repenting and holding fast to the testimony of Jesus! The description of the wrath of God by the “apostle of love” (John) is terrifying. Those who spurn God’s love will “drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured unmixed into the cup of his anger, and [they] shall be tormented with fire and sulphur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment goes up for ever and ever; and they have no rest, day or night” (14:10–11). “And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire” (20:15). Jesus will “tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty” (19:15). And “blood will flow from the winepress, as high as a horse’s bridle for two hundred miles” (14:20).

I tremble with joy that I am saved! O, the holy wrath of God is a horrible destiny. Flee this, brothers and sisters. Flee this with all your might. And let us save as many as we can! No wonder there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous! (Luke 15:7).

John Piper

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pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

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Book of Abdias - From The Latin Vulgate Bible

Chapter 1

PREFACE.

Abdias, whose name is interpreted the servant of the Lord, is believed to have prophesied about the same time as Osee, Joel, and Amos: though some of the Hebrews, who believe him to be the same with Achab's steward, make him much more ancient. His prophecy is the shortest of any in number of words, but yields to none, says St. Jerome, in the sublimity of mysteries. It contains but one chapter. (Challoner) --- He foretells the destruction of Edom, for its pride and enmity against the Jews: whose return and the redemption of mankind are also announced. (Worthington) --- Abdias seems to have prophesied after the destruction of Jerusalem, and before Nabuchodonosor attacked Edom, &c., which took place within five years. (Calmet)

Chapter 1

The destruction of Edom, for their pride: and the wrongs they did to Jacob: the salvation and victory of Israel.

1 The vision of Abdias. Thus saith the Lord God to Edom: We have heard a rumour from the Lord, and he hath sent an ambassador to the nations: Arise, and let us rise up to battle against him.

Notes & Commentary:

Ver. 1. Edom. The Jews understand this of the Romans; others apply it to themselves; but it seems to speak of the Idumeans. --- Ambassador, prophet, or angel; or God has suffered the passions of men to act. All is here animated. God appears leading on the various nations. (Calmet) --- He directed their thoughts to unite against Edom. (Worthington) --- Yet he did not approve of their ambition. (Haydock)

2 Behold, I have made thee small among the nations: thou art exceedingly contemptible.

Ver. 2. Contemptible. The nations of Chaldea, &c., were far more potent. Yet Edom must be brought still lower.

3 The pride of thy heart hath lifted thee up, who dwellest in the clefts of the rocks, and settest up thy throne on high: who sayest in thy heart: Who shall bring me down to the ground?

Ver. 3. Rocks. Hebrew, "Selah," or Petra, the capital. (Calmet) --- People dwell in caverns from Eleutheropolis to Ailath. (St. Jerome)

4 Though thou be exalted as an eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars: thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord.

Ver. 4. Down. (Job xx. 6.) How vain is all human power!

5 If thieves had gone into thee, if robbers by night, how wouldst thou have held thy peace? would they not have stolen till they had enough? if the grape-gatherers had come into thee, would they not have left thee at the least a cluster?

Ver. 5. Cluster. (Jeremias xlix. 9.) The Chaldeans take all, and remove the people, ver. 7.

6 How have they searched Esau, how have they sought out his hidden things?

Ver. 6. No explanation given.

7 They have sent thee out even to the border: all the men of thy confederacy have deceived thee: the men of thy peace have prevailed against thee: they that eat with thee, shall lay snares under thee: there is no wisdom in him.

Ver. 7. Peace. The enemy had used their services against the Jews; but now they invade their confederates. (Calmet) --- Of this the Idumeans were not aware. (Haydock)

8 Shall not I in that day, saith the Lord, destroy the wise out of Edom, and understanding out of the mount of Esau?

Ver. 8. Esau. Job and Eliphaz were both from this country.

9 And thy valiant men of the south shall be afraid, that man may be cut off from the mount of Esau.

Ver. 9. South. Hebrew, "Theman," (Calmet) where the Romans kept a garrison, fifteen miles south of Petra. (St. Jerome)

10 For the slaughter, and for the iniquity against thy brother Jacob, confusion shall cover thee, and thou shalt perish for ever.

Ver. 10. Slaughter. They invaded the dominions of Achaz, and incited the enemy to destroy all, 2 Paralipomenon xxviii. 17., and Psalm cxxxvi. 7.

11 In the day when thou stoodest against him, when strangers carried away his army captive, and foreigners entered into his gates, and cast lots upon Jerusalem: thou also wast as one of them.

Ver. 11. Captive. He alludes to the taking of Sedecias. --- Lots, for the booty, or whether they should burn the city or not. All was regulated by lots. (Calmet)

12 But thou shalt not look on in the day of thy brother, in the day of his leaving his country: and thou shalt not rejoice over the children of Juda, in the day of their destruction: and thou shalt not magnify thy mouth in the day of distress.

Ver. 12. Thou shalt not look, &c., or thou shouldst not, &c. It is a reprehension for what they had done, and at the same time a declaration that these things should not pass unpunished. (Challoner) --- God admonishes, and at the same time insinuates that the Idumeans would act quite the reverse. (Worthington) --- Magnify. Literally, thou shalt not speak arrogantly against the children of Juda, as insulting them in their distress, (Challoner) like people mocking. When they shall be themselves afflicted, they shall cease to upbraid the Jews. (Calmet)

13 Neither shalt thou enter into the gate of my people, in the day of their ruin: neither shalt thou also look on in his evils, in the day of his calamity: and thou shalt not be sent out against his army, in the day of his desolation.

Ver. 13. Army. Hebrew also, "goods." Septuagint, "thou wilt not join their army in the day of ruin." (Haydock) --- Thou wilt have other things to think about.

14 Neither shalt thou stand in the cross-ways to kill them that flee: and thou shalt not shut up them that remain of him in the day of tribulation.

Ver. 14. Flee. The Idumeans might easily have concealed the fugitives. But they were so inhuman as to fall upon them, (Calmet) or drive them back.

15 For the day of the Lord is at hand upon all nations: as thou hast done, so shall it be done to thee: he will turn thy reward upon thy own head.

Ver. 15. Nations around. (Haydock) --- Josephus ([Antiquities?] x. 11.) does not specify Edom. But the prophets had announced their destruction, effected by Nabuchodonosor, while the main part of his army besieged Tyre. (Calmet)

16 For as you have drunk upon my holy mountain, so all nations shall drink continually: and they shall drink, and sup up, and they shall be as though they were not.

Ver. 16. Drink. They shall rejoice at your fall, as you did at that of Juda; (St. Jerome) or, as my people has not been spared, can you expect to escape? (Jeremias xlix. 12.) --- Not. These nations and the Chaldeans themselves were brought low, while the Jews regained the regal power. The cup denotes vengeance, Psalm lxxiv. 9. Plautus uses the same expression: ut senex hoc eodem poculo, quo ego bibi, biberet. (Casina.) (Calmet)

17 And in Mount Sion shall be salvation, and it shall be holy: and the house of Jacob shall possess those that possessed them.

Ver. 17. Sion. This prosperity, in the historical sense, was promised to the Jews, after their return; and they enjoyed as much of it as their sins did not hinder; the rest was fulfilled in Christ. (St. Jerome, ad Dard.) (Worthington) --- Holy. Providence watched over the Jews in a particular manner, while the neighbouring nations fell a prey to the Persians, to Alexander, &c. The persecution of Epiphanes was sharp, but of short duration; and it gave occasion to the Jews to regain their liberty, and to have kings (Calmet) little (Haydock) inferior to those of old. --- Them. Hebrew, "its goods." The Jews obtained all Palestine. (Calmet) --- Christ extends his dominion over the world. (Theodoret)

18 And the house of Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a flame, and the house of Esau stubble: and they shall be kindled in them, and shall devour them: and there shall be no remains of the house of Esau, for the Lord hath spoken it.

Ver. 18. Stubble. The Jews often attacked Edom, and at last forced them to submit to the law of circumcision. --- Remains. Septuagint copies vary; "corn fire, or carrier." (Haydock) --- Those who escaped alone from battle had the former title. (Hesyc. purphoros.) (Calmet) --- Priests went with fire before the armies engaged. If they were slain, it was a sign, that no quarter was given, as these were accounted sacred. (Grabe, Prol.) (Haydock)

19 And they that are toward the south, shall inherit the mount of Esau, and they that are in the plains, the Philistines: and they shall possess the country of Ephraim, and the country of Samaria: and Benjamin shall possess Galaad.

Ver. 19. Plains. Sephala, Josue x. 40. --- Samaria, which the Cutheans had occupied, till Alexander subjected them to the Jews, and Hircan asserted his authority. (Josephus, Antiquities xiii. 18.) --- Galaad, east of the Jordan. Benjamin alone did not occupy this country.

20 And the captivity of this host of the children of Israel, all the places of the Chanaanites, even to Sarepta: and the captivity of Jerusalem, that is in Bosphorus, shall possess the cities of the south.

Ver. 20. Sarepta. This was accomplished after the persecution of Epiphanes. --- Bosphorus. So St. Jerome's master interpreted Bispharad. But it seems rather to mean a part of Mesopotamia. Sippara stands above, where the Euphrates divides its streams.

21 And saviours shall come up into Mount Sion to judge the mount of Esau: and the kingdom shall be for the Lord.

Ver. 21. Saviours, the Machabees, as figures of Christ. The temporal power of the Jews ended thirty-seven years after his resurrection. (Calmet) -- The rest of this prophecy (ver. 19.) regards Christ's kingdom over all nations, which believe in him, and receive the remission of their sins, Acts x. 43. (St. Augustine, City of God xviii. 31.) (Worthington)

#book of abdias

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femmesfollesnebraska · 5 years

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What being a womxn means to me: Cynthia Rovero

Fiction writer Cynthia Rovero shares what being a womxn means to her:

I have found the many roles of being a versatile woman to be challenging, joyful, and confusing during my 62 years. Writing over many of these years has helped me to transition through the many changes family life offers. At this stage of life I still want some challenges, but try to be more selective as to which ones I will take on.

Enjoy her short story:

Seekers

Another chilly night at home, watching Dancing with the Stars, a vodka gimlet in hand, and a silent phone at 34 Market Lane, Arcata, California. The trailer park had been overrun with families years ago, but now many trailers were in unsightly disrepair, including Jamine’s. She reached for a Marlboro, inhaled deeply, and took out her thick gray braids one by one. No mail had come for a week of Sundays, and the internet had been down for months too. Her brother Lamar had become more distant since his art work took off in the elitist community. Now his rare out of the blue phone calls became non-existent, leaving her nobody to confide her comings and goings with. But, what really became a bitter blow, is when her open invitation for Lamar to visit never amounted to anything.

After, putting out her cigarette, Jamine leafed through her tattered phone book to retrieve the Pastor’s name she jotted down at church last Sunday. Hesitant to give him a call, she took a big swig of her drink, then slowly dialed the local number on her faded pink princess phone.

“Ring, ring, ring” “Hello, this is Pastor O’Gorman, may I ask who is calling?” his cheerful voice rang out loud and clear.

“Hello this is Jamine, sorry to call you at this late hour, but I am in need of some cheering up” sobbed Jamine, while trying to hold back the barrage of tears, which welled up in her eyes.

“I am sorry you are having difficulty with today’s heavy load. Is there something I can do? I want to offer you help” Pastor O’ Gorman easily replied.

“Well, it has been a long time since I reached out to any of my relatives, for fear of causing them grief. I seem to get long stretches of silence, which cause me to want to talk with just about anybody” she continued on, while trying to catch her breath between sobs. Jamine reached for another tissue to blow her petite nose, while holding onto the receiver as if it contained her last breath.

“I see, yes silence can be alarmingly daunting on a person’s life”. “It also confuses life to have to go it alone.” He gently answered

“Yes, and when there is nobody to reach out to regularly, well I become dead inside” she spewed out uncontrollably.

“Yes, most certainly that can be a heartache” said the young Pastor, as he began to jot down notes relating to Jamines’ distress in his daily parishioner’s journal.

As she began to come to her senses, slowly letting the Pastors voice, calm her deflated ego, Jamine questioned. “Well, can you recommend anyone, with a need to comfort an old woman way past her prime?”

“Yes, Mam, we do have a group of young ladies, willing to take on this kind of endeavor” “It may take a bit of time, for us to set up a meeting. Nevertheless, as Saint Mary’s communicator, I can attest to making the best match for you.”

“If you can get to our chapel tomorrow, I will be there from eleven to three, after I have given the morning sermon.” he assured.

“Sure, that would be nice, I will get a good night’s sleep, and see you tomorrow morning. I look forward, to meeting with you to talk over the young people available.”

After carefully hanging up the phone, Jamine finished watching her favorite show, gulped down the rest of her potent drink, brushed, and braided her long tresses, set her alarm for nine, and slowly got into her simple twin bed to rest.

In the morning, heavy equipment roared outside at eight, so she sleepily opened her eyes, to turn back the covers, and rose to make her morning cup, of strong black coffee. Getting dressed had become more of a chore, now that she was quickly approaching eighty-three. Still able to wear a size ten, she put on her tight jeans, a light flowery blouse, and the usual amount of pink lipstick, which had a way of cheering her up. Because her feet were incredibly worn out from weekly dance classes, Jamine decided to put on her Hoka work out shoes, to make the mile bike ride to Saint Mary’s Church easier.

Trying to block out the loud noises of the equipment, while daintily eating her daily poached egg, on an English muffin; she noticed a stray dog wandering around her roses. Not liking to encourage strays, she loudly clanged her pots and pans, to scare the mangy stray away. Then she put on some Chopin to ease into repeating her morning mantra “I am capable, loved, and worthy of God’s love every day” five times before heading out the door.

While unlocking her rusted blue, and white Schwinn bike, Delilah, a nosy neighbor popped her head out of the window to remark “Say Jamine, where you heading off to this early in the morning” “Dressed mighty nice too” “Think you can bring me back a pack of Marlboros?”

Annoyed, but still wanting to keep neighborly, Jamine answered “Sure thing, may not be back until this afternoon though, if you don’t mind” Jamine hurriedly answered.

“Thanks sweet pea, I will mow your lawn for you next time it

gets too high” Delilah cheerily bellowed.

“Okay, in that case I will pick up two packs for you” Jamine shouted as she began to ride off at an easy pace.

Traffic was much more congested, on this delightful spring day, where daisies, gladiolas, jasmine, and forget me-not flowers were popping up everywhere. Yet, when Jamine would often stop to admire a garden, or two, on her way to town, the thought of the Priest helping her, caused her to maintain the slow pace to Saint Mary’s.

She could finally see the golden steeple of the church in the distance, when a faint smile graced her weathered face.

Upon, entering the church, she saw that most of the parishioners, had left the morning mass. Blessing herself with holy water, before kneeling, to say a few prayers, she caught sight of the time. Luckily she got her there with enough time to light some candles, for her estranged family.

Pastor O’ Gorman’s’ office was sparsely furnished with dated seventies

Style furniture, and a large oak desk, that he was patiently sitting behind, while reading a bible. “Hello Jamine, I am glad you made it. I was just trying to get ahead with my sermon for tonight’s service. It seems my talk this morning was somewhat lacking in humor, as several of the parishioners in the front row, were rolling their eyes, and yawning a lot” chuckled the handsome young Irish Pastor. “Well Father I always find your sermons guide me to having a wonderful connection with our Lord and Savior” Jamine easily spoke, while settling into the rose colored cushioned velvet chair, directly in front of him.

“Thank you ever, so much” he blushed, and proceeded to take out and open up a medium brown binder. “Here are some nice young ladies, you can choose from, to meet during donut time, after mass Sunday, or out to lunch at a restaurant nearby. Surely one of the young ladies, will be happy to share stories, go to lunch, get exercise, and help you in other ways too ok?” Pastor O’Gorman explained, now showing an increasing amount of concern.

“Thank you ever so much, the loneliness that has overcome me has been way too much for my weak heart to bear lately” “Especially with family so far away, who rarely pick up the phone to acknowledge I exist. One of these darling ladies, could really give my health a quick pick me up” she exclaimed. “Is there a special young lady you recommend I call first?” Jamine curiously inquired.

“Well, come to think of it Molly is highly thought of by some of our elder parishioners” “We have never had one complaint about her sweet demeanor” he smiled broadly, his gleaming perfect white teeth shining nicely.

“Thank you ever, so much Father, I will give her a call tomorrow morning” “I look forward to having lunch and mulling over some interesting memories, of my travels to Paris with her” “I can go on, and on, about all the lovely people I met there”

“I am sure you can, and that is exactly the kind of lunch date Molly enjoys” he calmly spoke, while walking Jamine out the

door.

The rest of the day Jamine went over her travel logs, old photos, and postcards; putting together a folder to share with her new young friend Molly. Even though some were tattered and torn, photos had yellowed, and postcards were bent, these cherished memories were going to bring to life a well lived journey. She made sure to pack up her seventies French vacation memoir to offer Molly to read.” Jamine mumbled under her breath “Now my Parisian rendezvous can go down in history amongst the younger set.”

So, they met at The Big Blue Café for lunch, and sips of ice tea that was incredibly sweet. “Why Cheryl, I mean Allison or whatever your name is, Jamine stammered , paused and took a sip from her flask before continuing on. “Can you say that a Parisian rendezvous is the thing to do?”

“Well Mam if you ask me a rendezvous is always guaranteed

satisfaction” Molly cheerfully replied, as she looked at Jamine

quizzically and added “You can call me Molly anytime” while smiling from ear to ear.

“Here is my collection of treasured memories to share with you” “Look over a magnificent time of my life and please read as much of my detailed memoir as you can before we meet again.” Jamine proudly offered.

“Well, sweetie if there is another drop of vodka in this flask, will you join me in celebrating the Holy Spirit today?” Jamine jokingly slurred, while trying to put some of her faded photographs back into the tattered pink folder.

“Now Mam, I try to steer clear of communing this early in the day” Molly replied apologetically.

“Surely you haven’t undergone as many surgeries as me, so I hope you don’t mind me taking one more nip before I head on home?” Jamine challenged while trying to maintain some sense

of dignity.

“Mam are you sure you can ride home alright?” “After all you might want to avoid falling right?” Molly conscientiously said while pulling out her iPhone to call for help. “I will just call you a senior van ride home, and you can pick up your bike tomorrow ok?” the young girl pleaded, while putting her arm gently over Jamine’s shoulder.

“Well sweetie, I don’t mind if I do” Jamine calmly replied while sitting down to ease her wobbly legs.

“How about we meet at your place next Wednesday?” said the helper

“I will make us a batch of Margarita’s, and you can come after supper alright?” Jamine cheerfully spoke, while batting her tired eyes. “Sure Jamine just between you and me” Molly giggled.

As Molly watched Jamine ride off with the seniors, she wondered whether she should bring up any of the days

conversation with Father. Giving Jamine the benefit of the doubt, she decided for now to keep her word with Jamine. Molly had always been up front with acquaintances she met through Saint Mary’s outreach program, but Jamine’s likewise forwardness was a bit of a shock. Memories of her own mother

nursing a broken marriage by drowning sorrows, filled her heart with sympathy for Jamine. She felt that open communication instead of isolation is what aided her mother to come back to reality. After months of Molly phoning and visiting many times with her Mom the hard core alcoholism stopped. But, she could not forget all the heartache the disease caused with their family and friendships. Some family members vowed to not be bothered anymore as they had more important things to do than nurse old wounds. Having this under her belt, Molly felt ready to use her method of patience, kindness, and respect to pull Jamine into a healthier lifestyle.

When Jamine arrived back at the run down trailer park with

Marlboros in hand, Delilah was outside watering her magnificent garden. Every year of the twenty that Delilah lived across from Jamine, she planted loads of varieties of exotic flowers, like Peruvian Lilies, Towers of Jewels, and Birds of Paradise.

That was one consolation to remaining in the declining trailer park.

“Hola, Jamine did you stop by the ‘seven eleven for me honey?” Delilah said while turning around to show off her new peasant blouse, with vibrant red, yellow, and pink hand embroidered flowers. As Jamine slowly put her bike in the shed amongst the boxes, she thought about grabbing a bottle of her best tequila to share with Molly. Then, gently walked over to Delilah, to hand her two packs of smokes.

“Where did you get that charming, colorful, native blouse” she said admiringly, while smelling a gorgeous fragrant yellow rose.

“Thank you honey, I picked it up for next to nothing at Bang Bang Vintage shop last week” “I can help you to put away your groceries if you need help?” Delilah implored.

“No, I did not pick up any groceries, because I just went to North Coast Co-Op with the Pace helper yesterday.

“Here are your smokes Delilah, may I cut one of these yellow roses to put by my bed?”

“Sure thing honey” Delilah said as she handed her clippers.

“That evening while watching a re-run of Dancing with the Stars, Jamine heard her phone loudly ring. She quickly turned down the televisions volume and talked into the phone “Hello, who is calling?”

“Hello Mam, this is Pastor O’Gorman.” “How did your meeting go today?” he asked inquisitively.

“I absolutely adore Miss Molly, and I am really looking forward to meeting with her again soon.” Jamine drowsily answered.

“Well, I would like to make an appointment, to go over in more

detail, whether this is a good match for you two okay? He offered.

“Well, that can work for me next Wednesday after my dental cleaning downtown alright?”

“Yes Mam that will be good for you to come after mass, say around 11?”

“In that case I will see you before my dental appointment” Jamine agreed.

On the evening Molly arrived at Jamines’, the modest trailer living room was decorated tastefully quaint. Jamine had put out her favorite colorful floral antique lace table cloth, arranged some daffodils in a blue ceramic vase, hung up a string of red heart lights, dusted, vacuumed, and wiped everything down to welcome her much needed newfound friend. The full margarita pitcher and glasses were ready to go. “Molly, I am thrilled you made it for my impromptu party.”

Jamine happily exclaimed.

“I love how you have decorated your humble home.” Molly said enthusiastically.

“Well let’s get this party started with our yummy Margarida’s sweetie.

“I must say you look adorable in that bright yellow top with matching shoes”

“I really want to say how much I adored your vividly detailed memoir of your hot and heavy rendezvous with your handsome French paramour” “To have enjoyed the pleasures of a talented artist as he, and to have been painted by him, must have been thrilling to say the least. “Do you have any of the art he did of you? Molly inquired curiously.

“Why yes I was lucky enough to bring home one of his beautiful paintings of me” “Let me show you” Jamine said as she slowly got up to retrieve the painting, hung up in the tiny hallway,

leading to her bedroom.

“Your elegant figure and phenomenal couture blue flowing nightie, along with the steamy expression of your magnificent face are all, so sultry.

“Well, let me tell you he was not only a magnificent artist, but he was also a passionate lover” Jamine vividly recalled as she began to blush a bright red.

Both Molly and Jamine slowly sipped their luke warm margaritas’ in silence for quite a while. Outside the scrounge dog began to howl close to Jamine’s trailer, which caused each lady to become somewhat flustered. “Well, Jamine, I am going to have to take off now” “I have to study for my upcoming psychology test if I want to make a passing grade” Molly said while placing the margarita glasses in the metal sink, and gathering up her brown leather handbag.

“I hope I did not shock you too much dear as I tend to be forthright in my dealings with people.” Jamine exclaimed.

Molly reached out to hug Jamine.

“Thank you for allowing me a window into your interesting past. “

Jamine grabbed her handy pot and pan to scare the mutt away yet again. “Molly, can I phone you to make a date to take you out to Rita’s Mexican Grill for lunch soon?”

“Sure Jamine, I will have some free time next week, plus I will have your Parisian rendezvous story totally finished by then.” “That sounds perfect” “Big hugs to you dear, I wish you all the best” Jamine said while blowing kisses in Molly’s direction.

On Wednesday Jamine got up bright and early to coordinate her wardrobe outfit and apply just the right amount of make-up to highlight her light blue eyes. She found herself smiling into the faded cracked mirror as she truly wanted to impress the popular Pastor Sykes. She thought of mailing the long emotional letter she wrote after her last phone call with her brother last Christmas, but left the letter there for another day.

After, parking her bike next to the beautifully bloom filled church garden, and straightening out her silken yellow blouse, Jamine slowly walked up to Pastor Sykes office.

“Knock, Knock”

“Come In Jamine, please have a seat.” motioned Pastor O’Gorman “ “Thank you Pastor the ride over here was exhausting” she said with a huff as she sat down to focus on the Pastor.

“First of all I want to thoroughly thank you for helping me to meet such a lovely young lady as Molly” ”We are still in the beginnings of having any kind of lasting friendship, but her compassionate stirrings are a mark of a sweet young lady” stated Jamine while beaming with a new brighter energy than the Pastor remembered seeing before.

“You’re welcome Jamine, all the years of your membership in our church and standing in our community, swayed me into making sure you have the best of our young ladies for company.

“I just wouldn’t have it any other way” “Seeing your colorfully dressed attire more often in church would be even better. But, all kidding aside, I am very thrilled you are happier now”

About Cynthia: Born in San Francisco in the mid fifties to live an interesting life in this beautiful bay area. My story "Rhythms of life" was published in 2016 in the book "Untamed Dreams." Writing about people and experiences both real and fiction, has been a big part of my life for many years. I enjoy sharing my interest in writing with a wider audience with the help of the internet connections available.

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins. LFF Booksis a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Current call for collaborative art-writing: http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/181376606692/lff-2019-artistpoet-collaborations

Current call: What does being a womxn mean to you? http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/183697785757/what-does-being-a-womxn-today-mean-to-youyour

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bob-giovanni · 7 years

Text

Title: Long Lost

Main Characters: Simon/OFC (other characters will be mentioned a lot but none will have much of a backstory besides these two.)

Chapter: One

POV: Third Person

Summary: There is a new member of Alexandria that has a bone to pick with Simon.

Warnings: Cursing, Eventual Smut, Hitting/Slapping, May Be A Slightly Slow Build

Notes: This will not match up to the show/comics completely, just FYI. Also, I apologize in advance as this is quite long. I hope to be able to add to this maybe twice a week. Maybe more. We’ll see what happens. I hope you enjoy!!!

-------------------------------------CUT HERE---------------------------------------

Father Gabriel was on watch at Alexandria. A chill had taken to the air so he brought with him a sweater and a hot cup of tea. He also had a book with him, one he found rummaging around his house. “Dead Until Dark” by Charlaine Harris. It was a romance novel involving vampires, shape shifters, fairies, etc. It wasn’t a very good book in Gabriel’s opinion. But with nary another book in sight besides the Bible he didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to take his mind off things. As the sun started to rise Gabriel yawned and saved the page in his book. He stretched his arms above his head and looked behind him to see if his replacement was on their way. That’s when he heard it. The unmistakable roar of an engine. There was a vehicle nearby and from the sounds of it, it was not your average car. Gabriel whistled, giving the signal to those in nearby houses that someone unknown was approaching. Gabe got down on one knee and looked through the scope of his rifle before lining up his shot.

Rick, Daryl, and Carol ran across the field to the perch where Gabriel was. Rick climbed up first, followed by Carol while Daryl climbed up on the opposite side, aiming his crossbow. A few seconds later a large, military green truck pulled up about 20 feet from the gate. Rick leaned down a bit to Gabriel. “Who do you see?” Gabriel focused his scope so he could see into the front of the truck. “The driver. That’s all. No passengers visible.” Rick nodded and pulled his gun from it’s holster. “Show yourself!” He shouted to the person in the truck. Several seconds later a sunroof popped open. Shortly after that a young woman climbed out from inside. She had two machetes in holsters on either leg which she slowly removed and held out a bit so the people currently aiming at her could see what they were before placing them down at her feet. She pulled the bottom of her hoodie up to her chest and did a slow spin on the roof of the truck to show that she had no other weapons before putting her hands in the air.

Rick gave a hand signal to Daryl and Gabriel which told them to keep their weapons aimed while he and Carol put their weapons away. Rick called out to the mysterious young woman once again. “What’s your name? Where did you come from?” “My name is Amber. I came from Fort Washington, Maryland.” She didn’t want to give more information than was requested of her. Not yet anyway. “Where’d you get that truck?” The young woman quickly looked up to catch a glance of the person asking her the questions. “An air force base about fifteen miles east of here.” Rick’s face fell in disbelief a bit. “There’s a military base within driving distance of here?” Amber gave a soft chuckle. “It’s not easy to get to. It helps to have a big ass truck.” Rick felt a smile tug at his lips. He nodded to Daryl and Carol who proceeded to climb down from their perches. Rick leaned down to Gabriel again. “Go get Maggie.” Gabe nodded and climbed from the watch tower before running towards Maggie’s house.

“Two people are gonna come out to you. One is gonna search you. The other is gonna search your truck then drive it in here. Ok?” Amber knew if she wanted to get on the other side of that gate, get somewhere remotely safe, she had no choice. “Ok. I’m gonna climb down from here. I’m gonna leave my machetes on the roof.” As Amber started to climb down she heard the questioner start to speak. “Uh you may wanna grab those. There’s walkers heading your way.” Amber turned and saw about a dozen walkers coming from the woods to her right. She grabbed her machetes and quickly climbed down from the truck before Rick gave a signal to Daryl and Carol to not open the gate completely yet. The three Alexandrians watched in amazement as Amber mowed through the walkers two at a time. She obviously had experience swinging those machetes. Once all of the walkers were taken care of she turned and looked up at Rick before dropping her weapons. “Can I come in now?” Rick told Daryl and Carol to open the gate. Carol did a pat down of Amber and watched as Daryl completed his search of the truck. He walked around the back unlocking and throwing the doors open. “Holy shit.” There were boxes of supplies as well as about half a dozen large gas cans piled in the back of the truck. In the middle appeared to be a sleeping bag and two small pillows. Daryl and Carol gave Rick the “all clear” signal before heading back inside the gates.

Rick made sure to close the gates up tight and walked over to Daryl as he climbed out of the truck. “What’s in the back?” “A lotta shit. Shit we need if we wanna do anything about the Saviors.” Rick walked around to the back and opened the doors so he could climb in. He looked at Daryl. “Bring her around here.” Daryl grabbed Amber’s shirt and pulled her around to the back of the truck. “Hey watch it.” She protested. Rick looked at her. “What’s in here?” Amber sighed softly. “Are you gonna let me stay? Because if you’re not, sending me out there without this stuff is a death sentence. I’ve made it this far on my own. I don’t wanna die because of some asshole.” Rick quirked an eyebrow and was a bit taken aback by this woman’s brashness. He nodded a bit. “We don’t know if you can stay yet. Someone is gonna interview you, get to you know, then they’ll let me know if you should stay or not.” Amber nodded. “Well until that decision is made I can’t tell you what’s in here.” Amber knew well enough that they could open the boxes and figure out what was in there on their own. But she had a couple tricks up her sleeve.

A moment later Maggie appeared. “Maggie, this is Amber. She wants to know if she can stay with us.” Maggie nodded in understanding. “Ok. Let’s go.” Amber followed behind Maggie, walking about a third of a mile before walking up the steps to what Amber assumed was this woman Maggie’s home. Maggie led Amber into the living room and gestured at an armchair. “Please, sit.” Amber obliged, plopping down in the seat. She had almost forgotten what real furniture felt like. Maggie sat in a matching armchair across from her. “So…you’re gonna like, interview me or something?” Maggie nodded a bit. “Just some basic questions to get to know you a little better. Would you like some water?” Amber licked her lips and nodded. She was low on water in the truck and had been trying to conserve so she was incredibly thirsty. Maggie got up from the chair and disappeared into the next room, returning a few seconds later with a glass of water. Amber accepted the glass and took a swig, her eyes widening when the liquid touched her lips. “This is cold. You have cold water here?” Maggie smiled and nodded. “We do. One of many things we have to offer. But these resources are precious. That’s why we need to make sure that you’re a good fit for our community.”

Amber nodded and took another sip of the water, taking the time to savor the coldness. She hadn’t had a cold drink in literally years. Maggie picked up a notepad and pen. “So, Amber. Where are you from?” Amber put the glass down on the table in front of her and crossed her legs. “Bethesda, Maryland.” Maggie scribbled on the pad. “And you arrived here alone correct? How long have you been alone?” Amber sighed softly. “I’ve been alone since the beginning. I’ve never been with another group. People are scarce nowadays. I’ve come across a few groups but I watched them from afar and didn’t like what I was seeing so I split.” Maggie nodded as she scribbled some more. “So why do you want to stay here then? You haven’t had a chance to observe us.” “I know. But you have walls.That’s a hot commodity. It’s getting more and more dangerous by the hour out there. If I’m on my own much longer I don’t think I’ll survive.” Maggie didn’t scribble anything down this time. She just watched Amber as she talked. “Before all this what did you do?” Amber smiled a bit as she remembered her pre-apocalypse life briefly. “I was a tattoo artist most of the time. But I also tutored high school kids in chemistry and taught kickboxing classes.” Maggie raised her eyebrows a bit and nodded. “So you know how to defend yourself then?” Amber nodded in response.

Maggie put down the pen and pad and leaned forward a bit. “I just want to apologize in advance if this question is a little sensitive. But I do need an answer. What about your family? Parents? Spouse? Kids?” Amber felt a tear sting her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “I was married.” Amber unzipped her hoodie slightly and pulled out a chain that was around her neck, her wedding rings secured on the chain. Maggie proceeded. “What happened to him?” Amber shrugged. “No idea. He was at work in D.C. Everything went down in our neighborhood so fast. Some people had already abandoned their homes. But we stayed. We had to. My husband worked for the government so he was desperately needed when all this started to go down. He tried to get me to leave and go to a cabin we had in a secluded area by the Potomac River. But I wouldn’t leave without him. The neighborhood got swarmed by a group of…walkers you call them? I tried to call him but the phone lines were dead. So I just locked all the doors and windows and locked myself in the attic. My husband was a bit of a doomsday preper so we had loads of food, guns, ammo, water, etcetera up there. I figured it’d be the safest place to go. And I waited for him. And I waited, and waited, and waited. And after about six months I figured he wasn’t coming. At first I was so angry that he didn’t come for me. But then I thought, what if the worst has happened? So I packed everything I could carry and made my way to D.C. When I got to his building I was surprised by how untouched it looked. There was no dead ones anywhere in sight. I managed to get into the building and I looked for him, any sign of him, but there wasn’t one. I didn’t see his car in the parking lot either so I didn’t know if he had taken it or if it had been taken after. I holed up in the building, in his office specifically, and I grieved. Then I moved on. Because I had to.”

Maggie let out a breath that she felt she had been holding for hours. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” Amber smiled softly and shook her head. “It’s ok. I’ve made my peace with it.” After a moment’s pause Amber continued. “Anyway, I stayed in D.C. for a short while. The further into the city I got the more dangerous it became so I knew I couldn’t stay there. So I left and just stayed on the outskirts for as long as I could. Then I remembered that there was an air force base not too far away. I’d driven my husband there once or twice. So I made my way there. It took a long time. The main roads were too crowded with cars and dead bodies to navigate. But when I got there I was so relieved. It had tall reinforced steel gates. I climbed over and explored. It was a ghost town. I was the only one who had been there in a while. I let myself relax for a few days then I found the truck I drove here in and loaded it up with as much supplies as I could and parked it at an exit just incase I need to make a quick getaway. But for a while, a long ass while, I was safe. And kinda happy even though my husband was dead and I was pretty sure my whole family was dead too. Then one day a herd showed up, broke down one of the gates in the middle of the night. I barely made it out alive. That was about four or five months ago. Since then I’ve been driving around as little as possible. That monster is a tank but it is a bitch on gas. I observed other groups like a mentioned before. And then eventually ended up here.”

Maggie finished scribbling notes and looked up at Amber with a smile. “Stay here. I’m gonna go talk to Rick. Make yourself comfortable.” Amber nodded and took off her hoodie. Her left arm was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos. Her right arm was about half a sleeve that she never got the chance to finish. She turned over her left hand so her wrist was facing up and ran her fingers over the tattoo there. A date. 10-22-05. The day she got married. She smiled softly to herself but quickly snapped out of it when she heard the front door open. Rick walked in and over to Amber before extending his right hand. “Welcome to Alexandria.” Amber breathed a sigh of relief and felt like she could cry. She stood and hugged Rick tightly. “Thank you so much.” Rick laughed softly and returned the hug. “Ok. Now let’s head out to that truck.” Once there Amber went over everything she had. Food, medicine, gas. All very valuable items. She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated telling them about some things she had hidden. She wanted to keep some things secret just incase. But at the same time she knew that the community could probably use it. She’d overheard Daryl mention something about ‘doing something about’ another group. “There’s one more thing.” She lead Rick and Daryl to the cab of the truck. She pried off the bench seat top and hidden underneath were guns. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, silencers. Rick literally gasped. “Do you have ammo?” Amber nodded. “Well these are all loaded to capacity. There’s close to two hundred guns in there. Also…” Amber trailed off and went to the back of the truck. She hopped inside and moved some boxes to reveal a hidden compartment. She lifted the lid and pulled out a large tool box that was filled to the brim with ammo. Rick grinned wide. “Amber you may just be my new best friend.” Amber smiled and jumped out of the truck and helped the group bring everything inside various homes.

When they got to the pantry Amber whistled as she looked at the bare shelves. “Well it looks like I got here just in time.” Rick turned and looked at Daryl who nodded. Rick turned to face Amber and sighed. “Well since you’ve agreed to stay here and to share your supplies with us it’s only fair that I tell you why these shelves are bare. There’s a group called the Saviors. They are not good people. A while back they killed two of our men, one of which was Maggie’s husband. Their leader beat both of them to death right in front of us with a baseball bat.” Amber’s jaw was slightly ajar and she had a pained look on her face. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.” Rick nodded. “Thank you. Since then we’ve been working for them. They claimed that they provide protection in exchange for fifty percent of our stuff. But really it’s our stuff in exchange for not killing any more of us. Now these supplies are gonna do two things. One is we can use some of it as our offering for the Saviors. Two is we can hide the rest to use when we fight them.” Amber nodded. “The Saviors? I’ve heard that name before. Two of the other groups I was scoping out had deals with them too. One group was called the Kingdom I think. It’s run by a real whack-a-doodle who calls himself King Ezekiel. The other place, the Hilltop. That seemed like a good shot for me. But their leader is a punk ass bitch.” Rick got a laugh out of that. “Gregory. Yeah he’s not great.” Amber furrowed her eyebrows. “So you know about that group?” Rick nodded. “Yeah. And the Kingdom too. Ezekiel is actually a great leader and not as crazy as you’d think. The Kingdom has agreed to fight with us against the Saviors. The citizens of the Hilltop are on board but Gregory isn’t. But we’re working on it.”

Amber absorbed all the information Rick had given her as she helped them unload supplies. After they were done Rick showed Amber to the house she’d be staying in. For now she had the house to herself. About an hour later Carol showed up with a basket of food as well as a casserole. “Welcome.” Carol said before hurrying off. Amber rushed to the kitchen to see what was in the basket. Canned fruits and vegetables, two packages of pasta, pasta sauce, and at the bottom was a small foil wrapped item. Amber dug down and scooped out the item. “Oh my fuck, it’s chocolate.” She said to herself. A few short minutes after Carol had left Maggie showed up with a bottle of wine. “Can I come in?” “Yes! Yes, of course!” Amber opened the door for Maggie. “Thank you so much for the wine.” Maggie smiled. “There should be glasses in your cupboards.” Amber dug around and found two glasses. She placed them on the counter and poured herself a full glass of wine before tipping the bottle over the second glass. Maggie quickly covered the opening of the glass. “Oh, no thank you. I’m…I’m pregnant.” She said as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Oh my goodness, really? Wow. How exciting!” Amber then realized that Maggie’s husband had been one of the men killed by this other group no too long ago. “Oh no, oh I’m so sorry.” Maggie smiled and shook her head.” No need to be sorry. It is exciting despite everything.” Amber smiled and got Maggie some water before the two sat on the couch in the living room.

Amber sipped her wine and licked her lips before turning to Maggie. “Can I…I mean do you mind if I ask you about your husband?” Maggie smiled and nodded. She told Amber all about Glenn, her father, and her sister. How her and Glenn met, fell in love, and lived for each other. Amber wiped away a tear. “That is truly beautiful.” Maggie smiled. “Thank you. What about your husband? Could you tell me more about him?” Amber smiled softly. “Yeah. Well we met when he came in for a tattoo at the shop I was apprenticing at. He walks in all tall, mustachioed, and handsome. Comes right over to me and starts flirting, asks me my name and says he’s gonna get my name tattooed on his chest. I said ‘Well that’s a stupid thing to do.’ and he responds, ‘Why is it stupid? I’m gonna marry you anyway.’ I was twenty one at the time and he was thirty seven so at first I rejected his advances. But we actually became pretty good friends. One day he comes in to the shop with flowers and was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He walks over to me, hands me the flowers, kisses the back of my hand, and tells me how I’m the most beautiful woman in the world and would I do him the honor of having dinner with him. I admit I was a bit swept off my feet so I agreed. And a year later we were married and he did what he said he was gonna do and tattooed my name on his chest. My parents were very against the whole thing because of the age difference. But eventually, as I did, they got over it and realized what an amazing man he was. We tried to have kids but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get pregnant. It caused a few fights between us but after a few months we decided to adopt instead. All of this started happening a month before we were supposed to meet our daughter.”

Maggie placed a hand comfortingly on Amber’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Amber smiled. “I still think about her sometimes, ya know. We were gonna name her Charlotte. Sometimes I’m so mad that I never got the chance to have kids. Other times I’m kinda grateful because I can’t imagine raising kids in this mess.” Amber realized what she had just said and gasped. “Maggie I am so so sorry I just said that. I can’t believe I just did that.” Maggie stopped Amber. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m scared as all hell to have this baby. It’s one more mouth to feed on top of the fact that any cries could attract walkers. But I’m happy too. Not everyone could do this.” Amber nodded and took another sip of her wine. “Do you have any pictures of your husband, Amber?” Amber shook her head. “Unfortunately no. When I left the house I only took necessities. Not too long after I left I regretted not taking at least one picture. But since I was headed to his office I figured I’d just take the picture he had of us on his desk but when I got there it was gone.” Maggie perked up a bit. “Well that could be a good sign. Maybe he grabbed it to keep with him before he tried to go back to the house for you.” Amber shrugged. “Maybe.” Maggie continued talking but Amber zoned out. She kept thinking about him. She couldn’t stop. Maybe he did try to go back for her. But he would have found her as long as he was alive. She just knew that he was dead. Maggie gently tapping her arm pulled her out of her trance. “I’m sorry. What?” Maggie laughed softly. “I asked his name. What was your husband’s name?”

“Simon.”

Sorry the ending was so predictable!

#Steven Ogg #Simon TWD #Simon #The Saviors #TWD Fanfiction #Simon X OFC #Simon's Thirst Squad #Maybe?#If It Doesn't Suck?

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thenovl · 8 years

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NOVL Excerpt: A Tragic Kind of Wonderful

by Eric Lindstrom

I’m still in a good mood despite that weird conversation with Connor yesterday. Two days in a row is some kind of record, at least recently. Maybe because it’s Friday, and I have almost no homework, and the sun finally came out…but no, I know better. My ups and downs have minds of their own.

I ride after school along the beach trail, pumping the pedals, outpacing the lumbering zombies I imagine chasing me on my way to work. They’ll never catch me. Not as long as I have Nolan’s bike.

Parked in front of the Silver Sands Suites is a small rental van. Maybe someone’s moving in. I head inside. Five minutes later I’ve locked my stuff in a cabinet by the sink, put on clean scrubs, pinned on my name tag, and washed my face and hands thoroughly.

I check the mirror. Despite vigorous scrubbing, I’m still dotted with freckles. My aunt Joan and I have a long-standing bet that I’ll outgrow them. She thinks they’re temporary because I have slightly lower density plus brown hair and blue eyes, but I’m a month from my seventeenth birthday. As much as I wish she were right, I think I’m going to win this bet…damn it.

In the kitchen I fill a glass of orange juice halfway. I hold it behind my back as I enter the Sun Room. Ms. Arguello is alone here and calls to me, “Excuse me, miss?”

She’s in the paisley wingback chair by the south window, knitting a heavy scarf, like every day of the two years I’ve worked here.

“How’s your first day going?” she asks.

“Very well, Ms. Arguello, thank you.”

“Oh! You know my name already. How nice, Miss…”

I stoop to bring my name tag closer to her.

“Mel Hannigan?” She laughs. “Was that on your shirt when they gave it to you? Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get your own name tag soon!”

I smile. “No, that’s my name.”

She looks at me askance, playfully suspicious. “Is it short for Melissa?” I shake my head. “Melinda?”

“Nope, just Mel. What can I do for you?”

I know what she wants—it’s the same every day—but she’s much happier when I play out this scene naturally.

“Let me know when the mail comes? I’m expecting a letter from my grandson. I’m knitting this muffler for him.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thank you. Or, maybe a small glass of orange juice?”

She smiles when I hand it to her. She doesn’t ask why I had it ready. The fact that her letter will never come pops into my head. I push it right back out and leave her to her knitting.

Some days I avoid the Beachfront Lounge for as long as I can, but not today. The Hanniganimal is Up! As soon as I walk in, Mr. Terrance Knight sees me and grins. He sets down his book—today it’s his Bible—and struggles out of his usual chair by the heater vent. It’s a battle he wants to win without help, and it usually takes a full thirty seconds.

I don’t remember how old Mr. Terrance Knight is exactly, but he’s at least eighty and still a few inches taller than me, maybe a full six feet. I wait till he’s fully standing and balanced, and then I look up into his eyes, his curly hair shockingly white next to his rich black skin.

“You just get here, Mel? You need to settle first?”

His voice is like thick melted butter; I want to swim in that voice. I squint at him and smile with the right side of my mouth. “Mr. Terrance Knight, I’m never gonna settle!”

“That’s what I want to hear!” he says.

We head for the piano.

My boss’s door opens. A wispy ball of white hair like a dandelion pops out—it’s Judith.

“Sorry,” she says to Mr. Terrance Knight. Then to me, “I need you.”

When I get close, Judith whispers, “Ms. Li. First day. I think she needs some of your magic.”

Ms. Li is tiny, sitting in a chair, wearing a simple red silk blouse, black skirt and hose, and pumps that aren’t nearly comfortable enough for a woman her age, or any age if you ask me. Her hands are folded in her lap. Tears stream down her wrinkled face.

Standing beside her is a tired middle-aged man, probably a relative, wearing a brown suit that’s rumpled and looks slept in.

“This is Mel,” Judith says to Ms. Li in a loud voice. “She’ll stay with you while we finish up some details. We’ll be right outside.”

Ms. Li doesn’t seem to hear. Judith leads the man out and closes the door.

I sit in the chair next to her. It’s good to let them lead.

After another minute of tears and trembling, she looks at me.

I smile. Not my bright smile—I can’t imagine she’d want to see that now. I smile in a way that says, I understand how much the world sucks sometimes…but it doesn’t always.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. I think she heard me.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask as loud as Judith.

“I’m not deaf,” she says. “I just didn’t want to answer her endless questions.”

“Oh, sorry!” I laugh. “She only wants you to be happy here.”

I open the apartment fridge by Judith’s desk, retrieve a water bottle, and show it to Ms. Li. She nods. There are plastic cups on the desk; I fill one halfway.

While she sips, I say, “You maybe don’t want to hear about how nice this place is, but it’s really great. I know it’s probably not as good as being at home—”

“Ha! The witch’s castle? That’s the only good to come of this!”

“What?”

“My daughter-in-law. Wretched woman. I only stayed in her castle because of Miles.”

“Who’s Miles?”

“My other son.”

“Is he—”

Her eyes shut and force two more tears down her cheeks.

I take her hand. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask any more questions.”

She squeezes my fingers and holds on.

“Dad!” a muffled voice says in the hall. “Where is she?”

The door swings open—our hands let go—and someone rushes in and kneels before Ms. Li.

He looks about my age, my height, but nothing else is the same. Everything about him is sharp: his cheekbones, his nose, his chin, his shoulders; even his black hair looks like it’s usually neat but now is disheveled and spiky. It reminds me of an angry black cat. I see my hand reaching out to touch—I snatch it back.

The movement catches his eye. He does a double take when he sees my face, caught off guard somehow. He scowls.

“Are you a volunteer?” he asks in a tone that sounds like he’s really asking, Who the hell are you?

“I work here. I’m—”

“You’re not a doctor,” he says. “Or a nurse. You’re just a…just a…”

He turns back to Ms. Li and grabs her hands.

“Just leave us alone.”

I stand and set the water bottle on the desk where they can reach it. Out in the hallway, I look back inside. He’s staring at their clasped hands, whispering.

Ms. Li looks up at me with an expression I’ve seen here many times.

I nod you’re welcome and close the door.

After I leave Ms. Li, I get a text. From Annie. I tap the screen.

I need to swing by your house today.

Bizarre. Must be a mistake. I saw her phone’s address book once and there was no one between Hannigan, Mel, and Lewis, Connor. I consider texting Connor about it, but no. They’ll figure it out.

An hour later I find Dr. Jordan sitting by a window with a mug of coffee. The direct sun on his face makes it glow almost as white as his hair.

I sit across from him. “Hey.”

He’s a resident and wants me to call him Piers. It feels too weird, though, so I rarely call him anything directly. He’s a retired psychiatrist but won’t let me call him Dr. Jordan because he’s not my real doctor. Except he kind of is.

“How are you today?” he says.

“Are you asking, or are you asking? If you’re asking, I’m not a danger to myself or others.”

Dr. Jordan watches me over his coffee, amused.

“What?” I say.

“I do so enjoy our time together. You’re like the daughter I never had.”

“Granddaughter.”

He salutes me with his mug.

None of the other ears nearby work very well. I’m free to talk.

“I think my meds need a little adjusting.”

“Feeling mixed? For how long?”

“Today. Right now, at least. I don’t know. I’m revving up but also losing energy.”

“An off day isn’t a cocktail issue. Anything stressing you out at school, or with friends?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want it to be about any of those things. That should count for something.”

He sips his coffee.

“I know,” I say. “I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose how I think about how I feel.”

“That’s not quite what I said, although I suppose it’s an adequate enough street version.”

I sneer.

“Seriously,” he says. “You need to talk to your doctor. About everything. Not just the meds. I’m not—”

“Not my doctor, I know.”

“I was going to say I’m not going to be around forever.”

He watches me. Usually it’s other people who get uncomfortable with how much I hold eye contact. Now I get a glimpse of how they feel.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say and stand up. “That would’ve been a shitty thing to say.”

In the two years I’ve worked here, first as a volunteer and now as an employee, I’ve seen half a dozen residents leave the permanent way—through the roof, as Judith says—including Grandma Cece. I miss her, of course, and all the others who’ve left through the roof, but I really don’t know what I’d do without Dr. Jordan.

I sit back down.

“Sorry.”

“You’ve come a long way, Mel. And in a very short time.”

“Thanks to you.”

“In spite of me. I promised Cece I’d help with life coaching, but we talk so much, it relieves the emotional pressure to engage with your therapist. More proof I was right to give up my practice. If I were doing this properly, I wouldn’t let sentiment and a promise to Cece stop me from cutting you off, to push you into a more productive relationship with your doctor. I shouldn’t be—”

“Your ‘life coaching’ saved me, Dr. Jordan. I’m sorry if you regret that—”

His look stops me. It’s a subtle expression but I know it.

“I mean…my real doctor thought your life coaching was wrong! I wrote down his exact words.…” I get my phone and thumb open the notebook app. “He said I was fetishizing the personification of my symptoms. He also said my bipolar disorder couldn’t be cycling as fast as I claimed, not at my age.”

Dr. Jordan’s eyes narrow. “He thought it was wrong? Don’t you mean he thinks it’s wrong?”

Oops.

“I mean back when we talked about it,” I say.

“You never told me.”

“You just said I talk to you too much! And there’s plenty I don’t tell you! He said I should stop talking to you so I stopped talking to him!”

Dr. Jordan sips his coffee. He once made the mistake of telling me Winston Churchill would relight his cigar to give him time to think or compose pithy, articulate statements. Now I know what Dr. Jordan’s coffee is really for.

“I thought you said something last week about your doctor being a woman.”

Shit. “Yeah. That other guy moved away. My new doctor, she just wants me to fill out questionnaires and talk about the meds. As long as I say I’m fine, I’m out the door.”

“So you haven’t given her a chance.”

“I answer all her questions.”

“Mel, some doctors push you and divine meaning from what you say when pushed. Others wait to hear what you say on your own and divine meaning from what you offer up. Offer something up. Give her a chance.”

I don’t say anything.

Dr. Jordan sets his mug down. “Tell her what’s going on in your life. And if you feel strongly about something, say so. Stand your ground; defend your feelings. Be honest and hold nothing back. A good therapist will help you understand and process, not argue. Try her out this afternoon and see. It can only help.”

Hold nothing back? How could I possibly tell that quiet woman in her sterile little office things I’m not willing to tell Dr. Jordan? Things I don’t even let cross my own mind? It’s inconceivable.

Thanks for reading an excerpt from Eric Lindstrom’s new novel about a teen girl balancing bipolar disorder with friendship and love.

Like what you read? Learn more about A Tragic Kind of Wonderful here >>

#a tragic kind of wonderful #eric lindstrom #NOVL excerpt #book excerpt #book preview #ya lit #books #reading #featured

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agirlcalledlevi · 8 years

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(Photo Credit: Georgia Nepaletano)

Featherweight

This wasn’t the kind of bar you’d ever find a list of fancy signature cocktails at twenty-four bucks a pop. But it also wasn’t the kind of bar that made you think you’d catch something just by breathing. The bar was polished to a nice sheen and the stools and booths upholstered in well-worn leather. The walls made of old paneled wood, like the Shiplap of New England, was generously plastered with old painted tin signs and flickering neon advertisements.

22.8 miles outside of a Calgary wasn’t really a destination. To a San Francisco girl, Calgary wasn’t even a destination, but to the crowd at the bar and the bikers running nine-ball at the tables, the place was somewhere enough. Peanut shells and lost ice cubes crunched under oil-resistant boot soles as Lexa stepped through the entry. A beefy had with tattered and greased fingernails caught a hold of her elbow. She narrowed her eyes and contemplated the most effective way to dislocate finger joints.

In Lexa’s world, you didn’t touch without permission unless you were prepared to lose a limb. Or two.

But the hand disengaged and asked for her ID before she could decide on a method. She didn’t even scoff anymore. You’d think that this close to thirty a person could count on projecting some sense of maturity. Despite her height, she still had the waifish look of someone who hadn’t quite hit puberty. Flat chest and square hips were a bitch when all you wanted was to blend in, but you can only waste so much energy hating your genes. In other ways, she was the lucky one.

Grease monkey handed back her passport and turned back to watching a game of pool that seemed to be a battle of who could take the longest between shots.

The bartender wasn’t much in the way of words, just a glare and a nod of the head to indicate your order. That was fine with Lexa. She was only here to talk to one person. Ordering a beer and a shot of Jamison, Lexa tucked herself in the furthest corner at the bar, back to wall, and pressed her skull to the small empty square.

Six months. Six months researching and driving across half of North America, dead trail after false lead nine times out of ten, and she was tired. Weary to the bone. And she was running out of time. But this was it. She could feel it.

A solid thwack indicated the arrival of pint and shot and Lexa realized she had had her eyes closed far longer than was necessarily smart. When she opened them, she about fell out of her chair.

Leaning on the bar in front of her was perhaps the prettiest boy she had ever seen. Carmel skin and deep slanted honey brown eyes hinted at Malaysian or Pacific Islander heritage. Dark hair sculpted into a fancy swoop, black jeans and ripped tee. All neo-punk rocker with nowhere to go.

“Can I help you?” her tone came out even, despite the eels that had come alive in her belly.

“No. But I’m pretty sure I can help you.” His voice, lyrical and just loud enough to be conversational, betrayed no hint of an accent.

“How’s that?” She couldn’t help herself, sarcasm crept in when she wasn’t looking.

A fancy silver chalice had been placed before him and he drank deeply before responding, “I believe you are looking for someone I know.”

“I doubt that.”

But she didn’t though. The eels in her belly and the tickle in the back of her throat that developed every time he spoke made her think he knew exactly who she was looking for. Trying to appease the dry tickle, she took a long pull from her pint but the fizzy liquid stalled in her esophagus and a hacking cough caught her out.

Some of the beer had dribbled down her chin and punk boy swiped a bit of it, sucking it from his finger. His eyes sharpened and he pulled away from the bar, “Follow me.”

Lexa couldn’t decide if she was furious or frightened. She downed the shot of Jamison and followed him towards the back of the bar. They passed all the pool tables and skirted a dance floor that hadn’t been visible from the entry. A three-piece played a sort of rock/country/EDM/punk hybrid that Lexa couldn’t decide was real music or just noise. The people back here were a bit more polished than the clientele at the front, but still rocked flannel and denim like it was a second skin. The boy passed through a beaded curtain into what appeared to be a private back booth.

Five people filled the seats of the booth, each holding a handful of cards. It looked like poker, but the cards didn’t quite look right and the chips made of solid gold. My new creepy friend sidled up to a man on the end and whispered in his ear. Whatever punker said was enough to get the man’s attention to shift to Lexa.

The burning black coal of his eyes knocked the breath from her lungs and for the second time she choked out a hacking cough. She had to bend double and breath shallow to gain a breath back. Cold fingers touched her temple and instantly she felt fine. No hacking cough, no dry throat tickle. She wasn’t even tired anymore.

Except now she was pissed. She was fucking trained for everything! What the fuck was happening to her?

“Colm says you’re looking for me?” his voice felt like a caress, deep and smooth.

Gathering strength from her anger, Lexa pulled herself up straight, “That’s right, asshole. I’m looking for you.”

He smiled then, his white teeth flashing through his trimmed reddish beard and the skin around his eyes crinkled, “Well! I had hopes that you might be an Enlightened, but I see that you fall into the typical ignorant masses. Pity.”

Lexa bristled but decided to ignore the insult. If the Devil was known for anything, it was being a jackass, “Are you the one they call Lucifer?”

“Ay, that’s what some call me. But I do prefer my true name.”

“Can’t say I give a shit about that. I’m here to make a deal.”

His smile sharpened and he licked his teeth. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was definitely solid and he topped her height by almost eight inches. Yet Lexa didn’t feel intimidated. She actually felt rather comforted. That might have been why she felt the need to lash out. Her palm didn’t even come close to making contact with his face.

He squeezed her fist lightly and dropped her arm, “Now, luv, that’s not really all that polite, considering the nature of your business here.”

“I’m about to become a lot less polite if you don’t take me seriously.”

“Believe me, little girl, I take the trading of souls very serious.”

He turned and walked over to a small table that seemed to melt out of the wall. Colm placed two more of the silver goblets on the table and disappeared towards the booth. Lucifer settled back into a club chair that had appeared with the table.

“Let’s get down to business.” He gestured for her to sit in the opposite chair.

Lexa tried to bring her anger under control. It wasn’t really him that she was mad at. He was just convenient. She settled herself into the other chair and peered into the goblet. Amber liquid thick as syrup swirled at the bottom of her cup. She raised her eyebrows in question.

“Mead. An ancient tradition of the gods.”

Lexa snorted, “You’re not a god.”

“No, I am not, but the tradition stands. Anyone wishing to make a bargain must drink.”

She tipped the goblet to her lips. Warmth and wellbeing suffused her limbs and she felt herself relaxing against her will into the plush velvet upholstery of her club chair.

“Tell me what you wish to barter for Lexa O’ Dell.”

At the sound of her name a tiny voice whispered a warning but she couldn’t focus. The languid feeling of the mead invaded her tongue and she felt her breath sigh out, “I barter for the life of my mother and that of my sister.”

The room started to tilt on its axis and Lexa felt herself tilt with it.

“And what do you wish to barter with?”

Reaching out for purchase her finger scrapped against the sharp edge of an upholstery tack. The pain, like an anchor, pulled the room back into focus.

Nauseous but no longer drugged, she croaked, “What the fuck…was in that cup?”

Lucifer leaned casually into the back of the chair, but no longer smiled, “Ah, very nice. You are not as susceptible to the Archnia vine as so many others.”

“Answer me. What the fuck was that?”

“Archnia Vellum, a trumpet flower whose extract acts as a truth serum. And a mild hallucinogen. It keeps people from running away scared.”

“Wow, you really are an asshole.”

He sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes, “All of you humans are alike. You’d think in this day and age you would be able to learn the truth. The internet, technology and all that, but you continue to run around blind.”

“What are you talking about?” The question was out of her mouth before she’d even decided she wanted to know.

He held up a hand, “Let me ask you a question first. You’re here to sell your soul, right?”

Lexa just nodded.

“Next time I ask, you need to say it out loud. That’s the only way the contract is binding.” He took a sip from his own goblet, “From our interaction up to this point I gather you are familiar with the pop culture edition of my fall from grace. Well, that is really all that story is, a popular tale, graced with as little truth as many from the bible. The truth is much messier and far more interesting. Do you know how much a soul weights?”

The abrupt change startled her and Lexa shook her head.

“Surprising.” His tone indicated the answer was anything but, “Nothing. A soul weighs nothing on the scale of Balance. Gabriel controls the side labeled ‘light’ and I get the side labeled ‘dark’, despite the fact that I am the mother fucking Angel of Enlightenment. You know what comes with the powers of Enlightenment? The inability to lie. I can’t lie to save my life – I’ve always loved that piece of colloquial expression even though it doesn’t apply to me – by God’s own design. Gabriel, he can lie his ass off. He can say anything he wants to get you on his side. So what do I have to do? I have to make deals. Honest deals. But do you know what my side wants to do?”

Again, Lexa was caught off guard by the sudden question, but mostly she was just befuddled by the entire conversation. Her bullshit meter really wanted to tick, but the needle didn’t get anywhere near red. Everything he was telling her read as truth. So she just shrugged.

Another sip from the goblet and he continued with his monologue, “We want to free you all.”

“Free us from what, exactly?” Her voice held a hint of amusement. Ha, the Devil saving humanity. That was a good one.

His dark eyes narrowed and the air chilled. Lexa finally felt a finger of fear snake its way up her spine.

“We want to free you from the ancient shackles of religious worship. Have you never wondered where exactly humanity would be if you weren’t tied down by all the guilt, sexual repression and obedience of religious worship? No. Again, surprising.” She was getting really tired of his sarcasm, “Every human cultural advancement has been waylaid and beaten back by religion. Manifest fucking Destiny, everywhere. We, the ‘fallen’ angels of heaven, are tired. We are tired of watching humanity feed the power of Gabriel and the rest of his so-called ‘devout’ brethren. They can’t see the forest through trees. They can’t see that keeping humanity tied to us is destroying them faster than they could ever destroy themselves.”

This revelation through her for a loop. Lexa had never really thought about it quite like that before. Now that she was, the implications were feeding the fear running along her spine and she felt her pulse jump, “So you’re saying faith is destroying humanity, and you want to stop it?”

He just about spat his mead out, “Faith is not the same as religion. Faith is the knowledge of God, the gut feeling, the connection here.” His fist struck his chest just above his heart, “The absolute knowing of God’s grace. Religion is the practice of supplication to that knowledge. That you somehow owe him for that grace. The very act of living gives God everything he needs. The supplication is different. That feeds us, God’s other children. His angels. It gives us power over you, allows us to direct you like chess pieces on a board. I don’t want to control you. I want to be you.”

Her head was spinning. The truth was ringing in her ears and it felt like she was finally hearing for the first time in her life and the words were too loud. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly to keep from sliding to the floor.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why am I telling you this?” his palm made a scraping sound as he rubbed it across his stubbly beard, “I’m telling you this because you are a featherweight.”

Irritation cut through her fear, “What fuck does that mean?”

Leaning forward Lucifer gripped her chin firmly, “Souls are weightless, so in the fight between my brother and I, numbers hold sway. But there is one exception. The featherweight. A soul that can tip the scales just enough to allow one side victory. There are four featherweight souls, and when judgment day is upon us, all souls will go on the scale and the side with the highest number will win. Unless one possess more featherweights than the other. “

His hands smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and the scent reminded her of why she was here, “So, what you are saying is that you really need my soul and you’ll give me anything I want for it?”

Releasing her he started to laugh, “God, you actually do surprise me! I tell you all of this and you humans! Still self-serving as ever.” He slapped his knee, “The answer is yes, just about anything.”

She was so giddy with relief she blurted, “I want my mother and sister cured. For good. No more cancer or illness. And I don’t want any tricks. They get to live average, healthy lives until they die in their sleep.” She paused, “And myself, too. I want an average, healthy life. For all this I trade you my soul.”

Studying her, Lucifer said nothing for a moment. “I can give you the first part, but unfortunately I can’t give you the second. The very nature of your soul as a featherweight means that it will be put in peril, in your lifetime. That is a part of your future I have no control of.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“Part of your destiny is choosing a side. When you get to judgment day, that choice may kill you, and I have no control over that.”

“I thought you said anything!” Lexa was trying to keep her voice down, even though through all this no one had paid them any attention. He smirked, “Almost anything.”

Lexa deflated. She couldn’t turn back now. Her mother and sister were all she had left. She was all the hope they had left. It felt like stilettos stabbing her in the heart, the thought that she might not live long enough to see her sister become a mother, or her mother become a grandmother. Or the day she might become an aunt.

But she could live long enough to see them healed. That would have to be enough.

“Alright. Deal.” She stuck her hand out.

Grinning Lucifer grabbed her hand and pulled her in, smacking a kiss on her lips before she could protest, “The deal is always sealed with a kiss.”

Snapping his fingers the bar disappeared, him along with it, and Lexa found herself standing on the front stoop of her mother’s bright blue San Francisco row house. She could hear laughter and music spilling out of the cracked windows.

The sound was bright with promise and dissolved the stone of despair that had settled into the pit of her stomach. All was good for now.

She opened the door and allowed the light and warmth to enfold her.

#original short story #short stories #the devil #he's a decent guy #YA #NA

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