#and after mercy and excusing us from our mistakes

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 5

summary ;; What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent? PART 4 | PART 6 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; jake is so depressing here. i also took liberty with his character and the reasonings for his decisions in atwow, sorry in case if thats not how you see him LMAO happy reading 💞 please excuse my mistakes if you see any! ‼ I DONT TAKE TAG REQUESTS ANYMORE ‼

“One chance, Jakesuli. You will only have one chance. Use it well. Our Great Mother favors you, that we know. But this favor hasn’t been granted to you. It has been granted to my granddaughter.”

“I won’t fail.” Not again. 

“What does failing mean, I wonder. Would you fail if you take her soul back from her happiest? Or would you fail if you let her have the peace our Great Mother has laid her into?” 

“I will get my daughter back. This isn’t her time. If Eywa has given me this chance, then she thinks the same as me.”

“You will take that honor from her, then?” Mo’at was being cryptic, but Jake saw through the exterior of the neutral Tsahik into an exhausted, mourning grandmother. “She was the daughter of Toruk Makto, and he was her last shadow.”

It came back to Jake in a gut-churning realization, it was his shadow that had fallen over you from the light of the torches on the walls as you’d given your last breath. It was his shadow. “No,” he refused, adamantly. “She will get to achieve greater honors of her own than that. I won’t be the one defining her ending.” The last bead of your songcord having his name, Toruk Makto’s name, was supremely wrong to him. He would not accept this fate for you. 

“Very well, then.” Secretly, she was pleased with him. With his answer. “Get going. As I said. One chance.”  

Jake would never be able to get used to the magnificence that was Vitraya Ramunong, or, the Tree of Souls. To him, Pandora itself was a marvel already too good to be true that he’d fallen in love with, and abandoned his own race for, there was no getting used to the beauty for a human like him who’d only found it once in neon lights, ever. He could reach the end of his natural lifespan in this body and still there would be much left to discover. That’s why Jake was more vulnerable to one of the beating hearts of Eywa in the shape of a giant, glowing willow tree. 

No Na’vi was immune to the soul-purifying, all-consuming, yet being-dwarfing peace enveloping one’s very spirit, in a cradling hug as if they were nothing but a newborn in their mother’s arms. In here, only one fact mattered: they were childrens of Eywa, all of them dear, all of them seen, all of them safe and sound, including him, once alien to Eywa the way Earth was related to Pandora. Everything spoke to him here in a language he didn’t understand, but could respond to, again, in a language he didn’t understand, his soul doing the communicating. 

Jake was also a child here, Eywa’s chosen child. 

And he had come to her door for the most difficult request of his life, feeling like he was asking his mother for money right after he had crashed their car, unable to look her in the eye and expecting the biggest of scoldings for his shamelessness. 

This was nothing like asking for her assistance against the sky people, back then, he had agency, power, the clans backing him up, Toruk. If Eywa didn’t hear him, he would fight until the last drop of blood in his body was spent anyway, he was ready.

Now, he had nothing. 

Nothing to offer in return, not one concrete reason as to why he should have his daughter back other than being a desperate father with nowhere to return to other than the mercy of the Great Mother. He just wanted his child. Nothing mattered. 

Not how and why Quaritch had spawned right under his nose with an avatar body, not how they could even slither in without detection, not the threat of what the sky people could bring upon their heads with that — nothing, not now. Nothing mattered until he saw this through. 

Jake had found the will to quite literally tear himself from your side like nail from flesh only when you’d stabilized enough. Stabilized, as in, the faintest rise and fall of your ribcage Neteyam had to stare from where he was sitting like a sentinel for a full minute to spot, a tideless, still ocean only moving with whiffs of wind, his own breathing unnoticeable — to match yours, or to silence the sounds in his own body to hear better, Jake didn’t know. 

No sky person was allowed to take over from Mo’at and Kiri. Norm had told Jake none of this made sense, if the bullet had nicked the bowels enough and the dirt leaked into the bloodstream, the possibility of sepsis was eventual, and if it didn’t, you had bled too much anyway, a blood transfusion was necessary, and the internal organs... — Christ, the amount of bad end scenarios Jake had been subjected to was as if they were telling him to open a grave for you anyway. Tsahik had scoffed into their faces. The way of healing was something none of them would see, she had scoffed. Now ally, or not. You can’t fill a cup that’s already full. Jake was in a hopeless need for water into wine kind of miracle, and honestly, he wasn’t complaining. 

Leaving High Camp behind to set off on a journey calling for only him was one of the hardest things he’d done yet, the silhouette of you lying motionless, his family scattered around the tent, shadowed in their own mourning, folded into themselves was burned into his mind, glimpses of their pain visible from eclipses of light occasionally falling on their faces. A sight he never wanted to see again in his life if he could help it. It was a frosted, iron-thorned hand squishing his heart into ground meat. 

Tuk, ever the stingy monopolizer, had brought her favorite toys to scatter around you because she thought they’d comfort you the way they comforted her, had tried snuggling with your unconscious body and was warned by Kiri only to hold your hand instead. She had taken to playing with your fingers, the depressive gloom of years beyond her age crooked on her. Jake couldn’t stand the sight of the little girl telling you bedtime stories he and Neytiri used to, for a moment only, he could pretend you were just going along with your sister’s whims and smiling with your eyes closed as you listened. 

Kiri, buzzing around to change the bandage-leaves that soaked up some sort of sickly black colored puss every couple hours, had explained to him the salve they used on you was getting the infection and the splinters of the bullet they couldn’t get out of your body, which had turned the color of your blood into that — but the thing was, given the dwelling of the woodsprite in your mouth, they couldn’t feed you the porridge-like mix to speed up the process of blood production in the bone marrow, and she was exerting herself looking for some other way. 

Before he’d left the tent for good, she had handed him the bullet— or, the biggest piece of it they’d taken out of your body, it was a mere pursed and shriveled, tiny metal. The exhausted girl had stammered when explaining that whatever they’d hit you with, had broken into shards inside you upon impact, creating severe lacerations and lethal hemorrhage that they’d worked tirelessly to pick out.

Jake had stared hollowly at it for the longest time. This small thing. It was such a small thing that took you from him. 

The sentence that sent you away was also as small, and damning as this bullet. ‘Go.’   

Kiri had seen it sink in his face, closing her five-fingered hand on his palm, on the bullet. “You should get going, dad,” she’d said. “We’re okay here.”

Jake had taken one last look. At Neytiri wiping your body to clean all the congealed blood. At Tuk holding your hand. At Kiri trying to fill in shoes bigger than her feet. At you lying down with trinkets surrounding you like funeral flowers. And forced his body to keep moving when all he wanted to do was stay. 

He’d then heard Lo’ak complaining to his older brother outside the tent, “How can he be so cold?” The heaviness was getting to the boy, agitated and misapprehending. But he was always this way, if something was out of his control, the inability to act to change it manifested as frustration, blind anger. “Why is he so… unresponsive? Emotionless?”

Jake would have let it slide had it been about something else, but his children running their mouths not knowing he was a hair's breadth away from going clinically insane had gotten to him. He was burning alive. 

“You think I don’t care, boy?” He emerged from the tent like some last boss, initially not caring he’d scared the brothers. “You think I don’t feel at all? My own child dying in the same arms I used to hold her as a baby — you think that doesn’t faze me?”

Neteyam, the mediator, or rather, the blame-taker, ran to his little brother’s rescue, the latter too flabbergasted to form any words yet. “Dad, he doesn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what he means.” When the anger subsided, Jake sighed with the weariness of an ancient man. The flames had died before they could climb, he was too exhausted for it. Honesty and trust, as Neytiri had said. 

Having lost everything, having nothing to lose, and having a lot to lose were somehow simultaneously the same thing to Jake in the predicament he’d found himself in. “I know how you see me. You only know me as the person I want to show you.” 

Lo’ak’s go-to answer was presented to Jake on a silver platter. “Sorry, sir.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. Jake wasn’t trying to get Lo’ak to bow his head. “Don’t apologize—” He cut himself short, licking his chapped lips, and after rubbing his face, he’d put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Lo’ak. Son. I feel this, alright? Of course I do. I’m your father.” He shook him gently, feeling the words weren’t reaching him, who was just staring at something on the ground off to the side. “There’s no greater pain a parent can go through in life than losing his child. You can’t understand what this means right now—what it’s doing to me. You will only know when you become a father yourself.” He gently tapped Lo’ak on the chin so he would raise his head and look at him in the eye already. And when he did, Jake said what he said slowly, hoarsely. “But know this. Know I will lose myself if I lose you, or any of your siblings.” He turned to Neteyam as well, who was watching in full alert mode. “I’m fighting not to lose my sanity as we speak.”

Lo’ak swallowed, unsure and weirded out to hear something like this for the first time in his life. Jake didn’t blame him. He was never emotionally upfront or honest before, not even used to it, more awkward with it than his boys were. But none of that mattered. Not anymore, after what happened to you because of his shortcomings. “You just look so composed—“

“I have to be.” Jake shook his head, eyelids hanging heavy, his whole head was heavy. “I just can’t crumble under it, do you understand? I have to be strong. I can’t lose myself in it. Your sister needs me. You need me. To be strong.” He took his hands off the boy’s shoulders, putting a palm on his cheek and patting a few, fatherly times before backing off altogether. “Never say that I don’t care. Never. I might not show it—and it’s a father’s duty not to show it, so my family will have a stable anchor. Get what I’m saying?” 

Lo’ak looked reassured, lighter. So that’s what Neytiri had meant. “How… how can I help?”

His youngest son’s inclination to get to the root of the problem and pump out solutions was in consanguineous with his inability to stop and wait, uncomfortable in his skin when he couldn’t do anything to improve the situation and was confronted with the intimacy of having to feel, always wanting to act. Lo’ak was like Jake in that way. Awkward when it came to communication. Dishonest with themselves.  

“Stay here.” Jake said, right from his heart. “Stay safe. I don’t wish for anything else in this world.”

Lo’ak’s eyes softened, and as the father, Jake felt the renewal of the bond between them, saw the understanding in his youngest son, saw something else than the guilt and regret over being caught after mischief, for once. “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shared a meaningful look with him, trying to convey, again, his apology wasn’t what he wanted. Yet, his sons were defaulted to saying sorry half the time they spoke to him nowadays. Jake was understanding the severity of it, too much too late. Lo’ak nodded, ears tipped down slightly.

Then he turned to the eldest. “Neteyam—”

But he opened his mouth before Jake could say anything else. Ready. Always on his feet. “Yes, I will—”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Rest.”

Neteyam was about to say yes to whatever he was told to do, as always, but stopped right in the middle of it, voice catching in his throat, eyes blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Rest.” 

“But—”

“Rest, Neteyam, I won’t tell you again.”

God knows he needed it. Neteyam looked like he’d been having night terrors for days, accumulated anxiety making him jumpy. “Sorry, sir.”

“Stop—“ Jake caught himself before he could raise his voice. “Why are you apologizing?”

Neteyam didn’t talk for a while. But when he did, he was looking up at him underneath his lashes, unable to keep eye contact for more than two seconds. “It’s my fault.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak said, a pitiful objection.

Jake knew where this was going. “What is?” 

“I should have been there.�� He pressed his mouth into a thin line before furrowing his brow, closing his eyes. Jake knew what he was seeing, repeated over and over again in his mind. “I should have known right away when I couldn’t catch up to her. I could have prevented it. It’s my responsibility.” One tear slipped by as he hung his head. “My fault.”

There it is.

Jake had told him before. “You’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” — even though you and him were more like affable twins than older brother and younger sister that he never had to explicitly be a guardian to you like he was to Lo’ak, he had to be thinking this was his biggest failure. Neteyam was just reflecting what he’d been taught, the standards his father was holding him up to. Of course the boy had been overthinking it to the point where he was the catalyst to the event by not predicting your fakeout. 

“No,” Jake rasped, after a beat. “This is on me first, and the sky people who got to her second. And that’s the end of the story.”

Neteyam, up until this point, had to bear half the blame, if not the rest of it, for the consequences of his siblings’ actions. Upon receiving this kind of answer, he startled with an incredulous gasp and full stare at Jake. “But I—”

“It’s not about you, Neteyam,” Jake explained, although the words were harsh, he had done his best to soften the impact. “I did this. Blame me, okay?”

‘How could I?’ was written in neon letters over the boy’s head even if he didn’t say anything. Too good-natured. He idolized Jake a lot more than the man deserved. “Mother was… she was… She is grieving, she doesn’t mean it.”

“You gotta stop making excuses for people, boy. Especially when they’re in the right.” A smile pulled on his lips, but died as it was born. “I pushed and pushed until we reached the edge, thinking there was never an edge at all. I should have known better. I should have been better. This is between me and your sister, and that’s why it is me who has to go to the Tree of Souls.” 

And he’d left, but not before pulling his boys into his chest, cradling the back of their heads against himself, the smell of home repulsing instead of comforting. Prickles on his skin was the comfort he got from being able to hug his children when you were absent. It didn’t feel right. 

He missed you dearly, an aching, gaping hole in his very being that only grew larger as he saw what you left behind half-completed or messy like you’d stood up and gone off for a minute to come back to it later — 

The unmade pallet from the night of your Iknimaya argument that Jake had shed tears on when he’d seen the state of it, having the signs of someone getting up from it like you would be returning to go back to sleep any second.

The unfinished bark plate you had set aside to eat later and fought Lo’ak not to touch it. a squabble Jake had to break before you started wasting food by throwing it at each other. 

The stack of fruits you’d gathered that you never shared except for Neytiri sometimes. 

The half-carved cup you were working on because the regular cups weren’t big enough for your water needs and you didn’t like to refill it about three times until you were satisfied. 

The incomplete anklet you were making out of rainbow beads for Tuk that was confidential to everyone but Jake, who knew from observing you, of course — you were missing a couple colors that you just couldn’t seem to find, nagging his head off to just let you roam around farther and there was no danger as the sky people couldn’t get in the vortex.  

The little animal doodles you scratched at your side of the tent when you couldn’t sleep at nights, waking Jake up in the process every single time to listen until your breathing evened out as sleep retook you in its arms again, because he was bodily programmed to startle awake at one single rustle in his living quarters from his Marine days and fell into old habits after the return of the sky people, he knew you had developed insomnia from being uncomfortable at High Camp, longing for your hammock cocooned in the safety and comfort of the forest.

And the dumb romance novels you had taken from the humans that you, Kiri and Tuk giggled about at girl’s nights reading out loud, Spider invited as an honorary guest at times, just so you could tease Kiri about him and annoy your brothers that they weren’t allowed in, but the human boy was. 

All of them had no owner now. Neither of your family members could look at them, your ghost would appear in precious memories beside your belongings if they looked too much. He didn't need to concentrate for a phantom of you to appear, you were everywhere he looked, and even now, as the gently pulsating lavender humming, a song from Eywa herself, right underneath the veinlike, labyrinthine roots was the cool summer rain on Jake’s sizzling skin, all he could see was your first communion with Eywa in his arms while Neytiri formed the tsaheylu, the clan spread all around them in celebration. 

“You’ve called, and I’ve answered,” he greeted in positivity. “I think this is the most direct you’ve been with me in a long while.”

He didn’t know if it was Eywa or you he was saying this to. He genuinely didn’t know. 

Kneeling, and putting his arms on the mossy, thick root, he looked up to see the woodsprites swaying and floating in the air. He reached for his braid, letting the squirming nerve-endings coil around the white-cored lavender thread closest to him, taking in the presence of Eywa, all around yet nowhere at all, but listening. No sign of you. Was he supposed to talk like this? Just like this? Was he not allowed to see you? 

Jake had to admit he had been harboring the tiniest expectation of meeting you somehow, or hearing your voice through the connection like he did with a Tree of Voices when Mo’at had cryptically informed him of his chance. But this was it? 

If he failed, this would be it. 

“I guess this isn’t all that different,” he said out loud, instead of thinking inwards where the confusion flew. “It’s been like this for a while now, you and I. You talk, I don’t hear you. I talk, you don’t hear me. We throw the same ball at each other only for it to bounce back. Monologuing to a tree is the same thing, except it doesn’t talk back like you do.” 

He looked up and around, there was nothing else to do. The air was the same as it always was in here. Always accommodating to what each Na’vi found comforting. “The last time I came here like this was to ask for Eywa’s help in the last stand against sky people. I told her I would fight either way, I knew that’s why she’d chosen me. All my life, all I’ve done was fight. Even when I wasn’t able to, I was fighting lesser battles with the excuse of not having anything to fight for. It’s all I’ve known. All I’ve ever done. It’s what I was best at.” His brow twitched, and Jake tried to keep his composure, not because he didn’t want anybody to see, no, it was to keep his shit together so he didn’t fuck this up. He had to be honest. His pride was the last thing he needed in his way at the moment. 

“You were born to a different man. To a changed man. To a father who could let go because he thought his family was safe. You got to meet the man I used to be when my reason for fighting came back from my star. I know you don’t like that person — you can’t — couldn’t get used to him. I know.” 

From the discomfort, his fingers dug into the moss first, and found the bark of the root, his fist curling on it next. “But I had to keep fighting.” He softly brought his fist back on the root. “The strong prey on the weak, that’s just how things are. That’s how I had it on my star. And my kids — you, you are weak, and it’s not an insult — it’s not me criticizing, Jesus, you are just children, and there’s a war on your damn heads. That’s what I mean. That’s what I’ve always meant. It’s natural that you are weak, Eywa was kind enough to let you be soft. Not Earth, though, never Earth.” 

Jake had to clench his teeth and bite the anger into the inside of his mouth to not be boiled alive — not to let it reach to your side. He let out a soundless snarl. “You would never be ready for the cruelty of Earth, I would never wish that upon any of you. But it was brought to you. Right at your doorstep. I couldn’t protect you from it by hugs and kisses. You wouldn’t be safe from a gun extended to you by extending a branch in return. No.” 

He reached and caressed the glowing thread, brows furrowed. “I did what I thought was right to prepare you. Every single one of you. I was making you tough. I had to. To protect you. And of course there would be clashing along the way, it’s what happens between parent and child. We fight. We fight like cats and dogs for dominance. You try me to show strength. I stand my ground to let you know you gotta do better.” 

He had fired those sentences with incoherent speed, and when he got to the end of it, Jake got choked up. Stopped for a moment, took a breath. Blinking several times, his tone became vulnerable, he didn’t have anyone in front of him, but he tore away his gaze anyway. “Somewhere along the way, things just… Without me noticing, everything…” He sighed through his nose, his voice nothing but a whisper. “I fought more battles than I fought for my family. I thought I was doing my job as a father when I didn’t even know shit about being a father.” 

A couple seconds floated by, and his gaze was stolen by a lone woodsprite descending down until it staggered on the fist he had against the root. The shine of it reflected from the mistiness of his eyes. His lower lip slightly trembled at the thought of it being you. This little woodsprite. You? 

“The thing is, I’m lost, sweetheart,” he admitted quietly, small, shaky, not taking his eyes off the woodsprite. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I sit here, I look back, and think why I keep fighting. We could have migrated. Looked for a new Hometree. Another forest. Left the humans alone. Or made peace. A treaty. Something. None of your lives had to be sullied by war. Yet I chose this. I chose to fight, as I ‘ve always done, because now I had something to fight for. And the fighting wasn’t limited to them, I fought Neteyam, I fought Lo’ak, I fought you, my own kids, and I didn’t even know.” 

He reached for it with his other hand, tentatively, scared that it would fly away with the slightest contact. But he was able to touch the top of the woodsprite ever so slightly, the little zap making all the hair on his body stand up. Jake swallowed thickly, his whole head on fire. “I don’t know what to do. I just miss you. I miss you so much, sweet girl. I wish you would scream at me. Say you hate me for all I care. Anything. Hate me until the day you die, but do it with all of your family surrounding you in old age, in peace. I would be content knowing you are under the same sky as me. But I’m forgetting your voice already, and I—” He held back a violent sob, hissed to not let it out, and groaned, getting angry at himself for the emotions. He shut his eyes tightly, willing away the tears. “I wish I could say these to your face. I wish I could see you one last time, smiling at me.”

Having everything to lose. Having lost everything. Having nothing to lose. Three different meanings had coiled around each other like snakes to become one singular outcome in linear relation of cause-and-effect through you. It wasn’t a cycle.

Having something to fight for. Having nothing left to fight for. Having nothing to fight for. You were everything. Everything. What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent? 

“I see you.”

The voice — your voice, albeit much, much younger, almost made him jump. When his eyes shot open, Jake was in a different location. He knew this place. The creek away from the village he and his family often frequented. 

The twilight penumbra of the eclipse dimmed the shadows embracing the forest, but the ethereally glowing lights of all colors illuminated and got reflected from the water as if it was a mirror. Above and all around him were lazily dancing fireflies — or, rather, bioluminescent bugs he didn’t know the names of, tiny stars floating in the air like glitter. It was magical.

Jake realized with aching melancholy that this was the first time he’d taken you out on an eclipse to show you the beauty of the forest on a special father-daughter date. The exact memory.  

The breath that left him was shaky as he felt the presence sitting right beside him, in the corner of his vision, he saw the ripples on the shining water made by swinging legs. 

Jake froze for a second. Unmoving. Not looking at all — because if this was a dream, or a hallucination, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. His breathing got louder, more labored, the log underneath his hands was so realistically textured and damp. If he looked. If he looked, you would disappear. That’s how he felt. 

He was supposed to talk. But now, his ribcage was holding the words hostage, burning with the strain of the pile-up. 

“But I’m sad you don’t see me,” you said, and he was shaken by hearing your voice yet again, remembering the moment he found himself here, how he’d heard — ‘I see you’. “You don’t even want to look at me.”

So much hurt and vulnerability in that sentence that it left him breathless. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Him launched into his own turmoil racking his brain about how Quaritch was back as an avatar, ignoring to look at you to protect his composure and just trying to think, think — think, of a plan, of a how, of what to do. You calling after him once Neytiri, you and he arrived at High Camp after dodging Quaritch’s men. Him purposefully walking away because he needed to cool off and not to explode on you right there and there.  

That whole time, Jake hadn’t looked at you. If he did, he would have seen you needed help.

He shattered, all of his walls crumbling down, stripped down to bare despair. 

“Oh sweetheart.” Before he knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you in a crushing hug, basically snatching you off from where you were sitting and on his lap, and your warmth, your pulse, your tangible existence wrenched a shiver out of him — and he buried his face to the little crook of your neck, taking your scent in, hiding his trembling face and the quiver of his arms by holding you tight. You were here. As your younger self, no older than eight, but he had you. Not bloody and battered in his arms, but alive, so alive. “Oh sweet girl, my sweet girl… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the side of your head, felt the real tickle of your hair against his face, blessed with the soothe of his child’s smell. “I see you. Of course I see you. I’ve always seen you.” 

The snowflake-frail snivel followed by your sobbing sniffle broke his heart into pieces. “You’re a liar.” He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “You’re mean to me. You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could say. All he could do with his thrashing soul smoldering at the wetness of your tears on his shoulder. “I am mean. I’m sorry… You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“It hurt so much.” You wailed. “It hurt a lot.” 

Jake began to caress your head with an awkward, clumsy, panicked hand, disturbed as to if you meant the moment of your death — at him pressing on the wound with all he had to stop the bleeding, or he and your strained relationship in general. “I know, sweetheart,” he said anyway, a stone clogging his throat. He didn’t try to explain, or tell you why, didn’t argue that it wasn’t what he meant to do. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had you in his arms. “I know. I know.” 

You wouldn’t get to be younger than this. And maybe, he would never get to see you be older, either. The thought crumpled his face like some piece of paper. Jake just wanted to hold you. And when you wrapped your little arms around him too, freely crying in his arms, a couple tears escaped his eyes as well, he didn’t know what kind of face he was making, perhaps it was better that you didn’t see him crumble. 

In the middle of it somewhere, he realized that you were younger because it was your inner child that needed this, she was more honest — more open with Jake. It caused him to sway with you back and forth, ribcage hurting with each breath. And you let it all out, clinging to him. 

“I love you, always,” he whispered, watching the bioluminescent bugs, when you were calmer and had fallen silent on his chest, not wanting to let him go and just listening to his heartbeat. “Even if I don’t show it — especially when I don’t show it. You are loved, my sweet girl, more than you know. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can show.” He looked down at the top of your head, agonized. “But I want to try. I want to show you more, moving forward.”

Knowing what he was insinuating, “But it’s nice here,” you said, voice thick and coarse from crying. You still didn’t pull back to look at him. Both of you, from the start of this, never looked at one another. Not once. Embarrassed and shameful to be honest, Jake thought. That pride you two shared. “You’re not mean to me here.”

But he needed to see you. You needed to be seen. So, as gently as he could, he unwrapped your arms around him, and took your baby cheeks in his hands, and looked you in the eyes. Another tear slipped from him. “You been listenin’ to me, right sweetheart? From the start?” You nodded adorably. You wouldn’t have said oel ngati kameie and accepted to let him see you if you hadn’t felt his true intentions and heart through him pouring it all out at the Tree of Souls. “I’m hiding a lot of things. But I want to be open with you. You wanna know the secret why I’m… mean?” You nodded again, more reluctant this time. “It’s because I’m scared.”

You gasped, genuinely lost and shocked, and he tried not to smile at the purity, the innocence. “You? You’re scared?”

“All the damn time,” he whispered, landing a kiss on your temple, his opposite thumb tracing a loving line on your other temple. “Every day. Every night.”

“But you’re Toruk Makto. You’re never scared.”

“I’m also a dad,” he said sorrowfully, as if he was giving out a secret. “And it’s precisely why I’m scared. I’m scared for you. For your siblings. Of losing you. It turns into anger. Anger turns into irreparable damage. Things I can’t take back.”

In the blink of an eye, you were back to your real age. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, you had shed the exterior of your childhood. But he didn’t mind, didn’t let you off his lap. 

“Don’t be scared, I’m here,” you said, putting your own small palm on his cheek, upset by the fact that he was feeling like that in the first place rather than whatever explanation he had. Your response was also childish, but he leaned into your touch anyway, comforted regardless, even if you were already gone — for this moment, he could ignore that no, you weren’t here at all. “If you told us, we would have been more careful not to make you sad.” 

Ah, he was being lectured on communication by his kid. It had a certain flavor of humbleness to it. Jake adored it nonetheless. “I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. I won’t be mean anymore.”

“That’s a lie.”

Jake couldn’t stop the laugh, though it was tottering. “Yeah, it is. But I promise you that I’ll never hurt you again.”

“That’s a lie too. Wasn’t it you who said not to make promises you can’t keep?”

“Alright, smartypants, let me rephrase it then,” the little glimpses of your brash self made him happy. “I will never intentionally hurt you, and if I end up doing so, unknowingly, I will always make it up to you. No exceptions.” 

You were acting uninterested, but stole intrigued glances at him. “How are you gonna make it up to me?”

“I’ll let you choose, how does that sound?” Jake tapped your nose. “In return, if I don’t know and haven’t taken the first step, you’ll have to tell me outright what I did.”

You deadpanned. “But I always do.”

“No, you don’t.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “You become passive-aggressive when you’re annoyed and pick fights with me.”

“That’s not—”

“Sweetheart.” 

“Okay, fine.” You huffed. The normalcy had made him forget just what he was doing here. “But you get angry.”

“What I get angry at is—” He cut himself off with a tongue click. “Not important. I do get angry. But at sincere honesty, us just talking it out, I could never get angry at that. Is the difference clear?”

“I think it is.” You were apprehensive about something, your fingers on his neck flexing as if you wanted to pull them back and break the hug. “But you have to promise.”

“I promise.” And then, Jake remembered, a new fire hardening his face, not in anger, but determination. “And speaking of which. I would never. Ever. Not in a million years would get angry or blame you for getting hurt to that degree — for others, humans, avatars, whoever and whatever the hell they are, hurting you, I could never get mad at you for it. Do you understand me? Your safety is the most important to me. I could never hate you for it.” His voice dropped down to a softer, gentler tone just above a whisper. “There is nothing in this world that’ll make me hate you. Nothing. I will love you through the most heinous crimes and in inexcusable deeds, you will find forgiveness in me even if there’s nobody left, that’s a father’s heart. Forever and always, I am with you.” He touched his forehead, and then yours. “I see you.”

You avoided eye contact. 

Ah, yes, the famous emotional awkwardness. He was sort of aware his feelings had reached you, you just didn’t know what to say. Jake hadn’t been like this with you for the longest time. So, he decided to make you more comfortable. “Yes I will get mad at you for breaking curfew, and yes, we might stop talking for a while and beef about the dumbest things if the fight is too intense — but always, always come to me when something is wrong. I will drop everything without hesitation.” He leaned in a bit to catch your wayward stare. “Got it?”

You murmured. “Okay.”

“Are we clear?”

You murmured once more. “Yeah.”

“Repeat it, then.”

There was something between cringing and unwillingness on your face, but at his pointed look, you sighed, giving in. “Always come to you if something’s wrong even if we’re fighting.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, encouraging to let you know this wasn’t embarrassing. “What else?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Dad will always love you.” He nudged you, noting the flick of your ears in happiness when he’d said it. “Come on, say it.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but your voice was light. “Dad will always love me…”

“Dad will never hate you.”

Sheepishness took over, making Jake smile. “Dad will never hate me.”

“And. Come talk to me about it if I’ve ever hurt you without noticing so I can make it up to you.”

“Always go to you if I’m hurt and you’re unaware of it.”

“That’s right,” in this form as well, he gave your temple another kiss, heart soaring at your beautiful smile he had been dying to see. “Good girl.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power.” 

“Nothing my mighty hunter can’t handle.” 

The smile on your face died down. It came to Jake right away what had gone wrong. “Sweetheart—” “I didn’t mean that. You know—” But you didn’t know. Jake had to stop trying to make it easier on himself. “I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you. About everything. About the ikran, I’m so goddamn proud. I said it, and I can’t take that back, I was angry and I was trying reverse psychology — you know what, it doesn’t matter. But you are my mighty hunter. Will always be.”

You got confident a bit, but were still testing the waters. “Well I proved I am.”

“Yes, you did,” he rejoiced, no rejection or doubt whatsoever. “Message received, Lima Charlie.”

You giggled freely, joyfully at the recognition, and Jake ached again remembering how much he’d missed that carefree, precious thing, he swore pixie dust was in it. You slipped from his lap to sit crossed-legged beside him, and he instantly missed being able to hold you close. “Wish you were there to see me.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Your Iknimaya was a disaster. A long-passed, sacred tradition broken wasn’t as important to him as it was to Neytiri — but he knew she longed to see you complete it, by your side, as eagerly as he did. And you had been alone in your pride, when he knew from a very young age, you had been the most excited for it. Everything had been ruined and there was nothing he could do to undo it. “Will you tell me about it?”

The phantom of pensiveness on his face hadn’t quite registered with you yet, getting excited to tell him all about it like nothing had happened the moment you knew Jake wanted to know. As if you weren’t dead. As if nothing was wrong. “Well first of all, I broke Neteyam’s record.”

A mournful smile tugged on his lips. “Did you now?”

“Hell yeah!” You started gesturing with your arms. “It took, like, two minutes? One minute? Too easy.”

“You know easy means the ikran didn’t give you much of a fight, right?”

“Or, or.” One finger was raised up at him to raise another option. “I was too skilled.” 

“The ikran might have been meh about you.” Jake teased. “You sure it chose you? Or did you just chase it down and it was stuck with you?”

“That’s so wrong!” He threw his head back to laugh at your outburst. “He was watching me get there the whole time! Like, from the start. His eye was on me, I just know it. You’re just jealous you didn’t get Bob like I got Jack. I was badass.”

That made him pause. “Jack?”

“Yeah, his name’s Jack.”

He couldn’t imagine Neytiri’s reaction to the blandest name imaginable, oh god. “Why?”

“Named him after you.” You tipped your head at him, raising your brows. “It’s healing, you know. He listens to me without questioning. He’s also very sweet. Unlike a certain someone.” 

“Oh you little shit—” 

“I didn’t say anything.” Raising your hands in defense first, you crossed your arms on your chest next. “Certain someone can mean anyone. It can mean Lo’jack—”

“Lo’jack, really? Really?” Jake half-snorted, half-scoffed. “This a new one after Lovak?”

“Jackiri—”

“Jackiri is pretty sweet, c’mon now,” he gave a blank stare. “Hope you’re not gonna say Jackeyam.”

“Jacktirey?” You asked, undecided. “She’s an anklebiter.”

“Oh, for sure.” 

“Could be Jack the Ripper, Bojack Horseman, Jack-in-a-box. Jack-o-lantern.”

“All people, of course.”

“Yeah, all people.” You snapped your fingers in mock-remembrance. “Hit the road Jack.” 

“Oh wow, even him?” Jake lowered his voice, leaning towards you, mocking astonishment. “Legendary figure, that guy.”

“Jack of All Trades.”

“Well, that ikran really seems to be one to me.”

“I know, right?” You stopped, and he saw that thought process, and before he could open his mouth, you blurted it out. “Unlike a certain someone I know.”

“You punk.” Jake pushed you lightly by your shoulder. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You smiled with all your teeth at him, with hands on your calves, leaning down to act cute, and Jake could pretend this was normal. That he’d fixed everything. And all was right in the world now that you were laughing with him — he’d made you smile. . 

But suddenly you looked scared, looking at something over his shoulder, shrunken pupils focusing on him and whatever it was rapidly. It kicked him awake from his delusion. He tensed, tail jumping upwards, straight as a rod. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched, and the next thing he knew, you had pushed him away, and he was falling towards the water. The last thing he saw was only a blur of you — the bioluminescent bugs became shooting stars with a thread of glow left behind them, the whole world tilted, but he didn’t hit the water, instead, he rolled down the small slope he had to climb to reach the tree. 

Disoriented, he saw the root was almost split in half — bullet marks, a cloud of splinters and debris was flying around where he used to be sitting. 

A lone avatar just ahead. Having made it all the way to the Tree of Souls. He didn’t know where this man had come from. 

Heart picking up and roaring in his ears, all Jake could think about was, One chance. 

He hadn’t even spoken to you properly yet, hadn’t said all the things he wanted to, hadn't even gotten your word, and this man — this son of a bitch — humans had taken you once again. 

Once again. 

You will only have one chance. 

“Lucky asshole,” the man looked at him behind the barrel of the long assault rifle. “Gonna make you pay for what you pulled yesterday.”

Your ethereal smile going up in smokes at the back of his head, Jake saw red.  

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

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[indiaalphawhiskey]

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned… entrapment.”

Colin Bridgerton could live to be eight-and-ninety, and those words would forever be the nine he was most ashamed of. He had not known a moment’s peace since uttering them, his bones heavy with grief and regret as the words circled his memory, again, and again, and again.

Worse still had been Penelope’s response — soft and unbearably genuine; watery and honest. “I did not mean to entrap you, Colin. I love you.”

I love you.

He held onto that part of the memory fiercely, mind focused on her singular mercy, the use of present tense — love, not loved — fervently hoping it would drown out the rest. That it would make him forget the feel of her fingers, warm against his own, slipping the frigid metal of her betrothal ring back into his palm; forget the way he felt his heart split in two immediately, the crisp sound of its cracking masked only by the angry clack of his boots as he stormed after her, livid and ludicrously in love, because how very dare she?

How dare she think to leave him, as though that were even a possibility for two people whose souls were so deeply intertwined?

He said as much, though admittedly, not quite as well.

“Penelope,” he whispered the warning into her hair as he caught up to her at the bottom of the staircase. His fingers curled around her elbow, just firm enough to keep her in place. Gently, he spun her to face him, and implored seriously, “you cannot leave.”

Me, was what he meant. You cannot leave me.

Even the thought of it made the air leave his lungs, so he pushed it away, and chose instead to say, “the banns have been read.”

She scoffed in a way that was so easy, he felt another shard of his heart come loose. “As though we are the first pair to ever call off a wedding. Was not Miss Edwina already at the head of the altar? If anything, we are conscientiously early in our decision.”

‘Our decision’. Of all the insults. As if Colin would ever permit such foolish thinking as this, let alone contribute to it.

He narrowed his eyes at this sudden display of hardness he did not recognize in her. “We have been intimate,” he reminded her then — determined that she understand just exactly how inevitable they were.

He had uttered the very same excuse not five minutes prior, and yet this time, instead of her earlier sweet sorrow, he was met with a startling flash of anger, the blue of her eyes thunderous.

“No one need know that if you would only stop repeating it,” she hissed, quiet and angry. “Or are you to tell me you will stupidly aid in your own entrapment,” the word fell from her tongue like arsenic, heavy and poisoned, “by announcing it over and over until we are caught?”

It was infuriating how truly clever she was.

No matter, he was clever, too. Her soul’s perfect match.

“And if you are with child?” He snapped.

She rolled her eyes at him, derisive laughter in her tone. “My courses have come and gone, Mr. Bridgerton, you need not worry.” Somehow, her words left him stricken, a sharp pang of something akin to disappointment hitting him squarely in the chest. She, however, was unmoved, her expression as fiery as the auburn of her hair. “It seems even my body has graciously decided to relieve you of your most honorable duty.”

It was scathing and deserved, and yet all Colin could say in return was what he hoped was true, “You lie.”

“I do not,” she said simply, a near murderous smile playing at her lips now. “Or maybe I do,” she shrugged, unbothered. “It is not as if you can lift my skirts in an attempt to ascertain the truth.”

It was all he could do not to gape at her, his beautiful, sweet, gently-bred betrothed — for she was his betrothed still, make no mistake — speaking in such a manner to him.

“Penelope,” he chastised harshly.

“Miss Featherington,” she corrected, tone sharp as she tipped her chin up towards him, eyes stony.

It was the final straw. Colin had never been so angry, and so desperately in love. His fingers fell from her elbow to her wrist, and he yanked it towards him much less gently than he should have, before slipping the ring back onto her finger with the kind of finality that brooked no more argument. He watched as it found its rightful place again, before announcing, irrefutably, “Mrs. Bridgerton.”

[momentsbeforemass]

Try again

There’s no coming back.

You’ve done too much. You’re too far gone.

There’s no way God would ever take you back, much less forgive you.

These are some of the Enemy’s most effective lies when it comes to keeping us away from God after something has gone wrong in our lives.

It kind of doesn’t matter whether was something that we did to ourselves. Something that was done to us. Or something that just happened.

Once we see it this way, once we see ourselves this way, we close ourselves off from God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

I think we’re vulnerable to this for a couple of reasons.

First, there are people who claim to be “Christians” who are all too happy to condemn things they don’t like about others. Even though a moment’s thought reveals their over-eagerness to condemn as (1) proof that they’re not really Christians (no matter how much they may think they are) and (2) evidence of what they hate about themselves, there’s something about that abuse of the Faith that stays with us. That leaves a mark.

And we’re protecting our pride. By claiming that we’re too far gone, then we can (falsely) excuse ourselves from the hard work of admitting that we were wrong and trying to change. Because that’s a blow to our egos. That leaves a mark too.

The real problem, of course, is that’s not who God is. That’s not how God works.

In today’s first reading, Jeremiah shows us an image of who God really is. Of how God really works, “I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again.”

Jeremiah is showing us how God sees us. In God’s eyes, there is no such thing as too far gone. No one is ever beyond God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

God never gives up on us. Even when we have. The door of God’s heart is always open.

But make no mistake, God isn’t just willing to try again with you.

God wants to try again with you.

God loves you too much to ever throw you away.

Today’s Readings

[leynaeithnea]

Hey ley how are- GET IN THE WATER

oh wow that's weird I just wanted to- GET IN THE WATER

Okay this is getting ridiculous I'm just trying to- GET IN THE WATER

alright I give up, get in the water analysis? 🥺??

ISEGSIEGJG LOVE YOU, lets get in the water together, im sure some siren can take the suffering from us...ok....Here we go…..LONG awaited song…oh BOY

34. Get in the water

There you are, coward (I listened to this almost every single day since the trailer dropped. I did smth with me, the AUDACITY for Poseidon calling him a coward, BOY, he wasnt hiding BY CHOICE, however THAT LINE? HOT ahem..anyway)

I’ve been waiting for this moment For the perfect time to strike (for 10 years, patient man) When your home’s so close and you’ve reached your coast That’s when our paths collide (Thats just cruel. Bro, you couldve just come get him in Ogygia, he wouldve been GRATEFUL, but NOoooooOoo, now you gotta deal the the consequences of your own actions HAH, UNLESS he actually didnt know where Odysseus has been ofc >:) he just coincidentally comes across him and makes up some bs to keep his reputation, speaking of which) I’ve got a reputation I’ve got a name to uphold (smth smth ruthlessness is mercy, but also??? poseidon, you slaughtered 550 men, noone will think youre weak, get off your ego here) So I can’t go letting you walk Or else the world forgets I’m cold ( the world knows, the ocean is freezing) the instrumental here is so imposing and intimating, scary Now get in the water Get in the water (making…him??? DELIBERATELY GIVE UP? EXCUSE ME????? He’s MAKING HIM CHOOSE AGAIN, choose to give up, after FINIALLY Having found hope again, how has there ever been any other option for Odysseus than to break and give in to the monster? THERE HASNT this was inevitable, you can only push a man so far) Or I’ll raise the tide so high, all of Ithaca will die (HE IS MAKING HIM CHOOSE BETWEEN HIS FAMILY; WHICH HE LOVES; AND HIM COMING HOME; WHICH HAS BEEN HIS ONLY GOAL THIS IS SEOGHSEGUH AH) Get in the water (yes daddy, i mean, what?)

Wait (odysseus is speechless, things are happening too fast, he has no time to come up with a plan, retaliate, hes tired, he was so close to home, he cant just give up like this)

Get in the water (but Poseidon ignores him, and just demands compliance, because he’s a god)

Stop this, Please (Odysseus has no way out, hes begging, he’s TIRED; he just wants to go home)

I’ll make tidal waves so profound Both your wife and your son will drown (BUTTT Poseidon makes his threats even WORSE and points out specificly that either Odysseus lets himself get drowned by Poseidon OR give up his family (and then still die, probably)

No! (oh, this is a man close to breaking, do not threaten his family, if you read the odyssey you know how this ends poseidon, be smarter)

Get in the water Get in the water (and poseidon keeps repeating his threats) Don’t mistake my threats for bluff You have lived more than enough (OUCH, but also hot) I’ll take your son and gouge his eyes (OUCH???? HELLO??? I MEAN?? kinda fair, because that IS what Ody did with Polyphemus BUT ALSO??? NOT MY BOY TELEMACHUS POSEIDON SHUT UP) That is, unless you choose to die (THIS IS MONSTROUS, POSEIDON; BRO) Get in the water (ok yes we get it, at this point you gotta act on your threats poseidon)

Aren’t you tired, Poseidon? (…..OUCH? hello? Odysseus? are you really…MY GOD, okay so after everything, after learning ruthlessness and having that end with loosing it all AGAIN, after 7 YEARS on Calypso’s island, he doesnt want to fight Poseidon, he is just…tired. He’s asking this to Poseidon because HE is tired. He’s the one who is barely holding it together, he tries to give poseidon another chance, also we hear a heartbeat…..my god) It’s been ten years, how long will this go? (gods can hold grudges for eternity, but it gotta end one way or another, doesnt it? Jorges vocals…my guy) We’re both hurting from losses (Ody is just so tired man, someone let this man sleep, and yes poseidon is hurting from Polyphemus maiminig, but LIKE come on…..they both hurt each other, VERY Least in equal measure….) So why not leave this here and just go home? (*and just go home, his voice almost breaks, theres almost a slither of hope…)

I can’t (…he cant? he doesnt want to? why cant he? he almost sounds remorseful)

Maybe you could learn to forgive (ody sees an opening, a chance to negoiate…forgiveness….but)

No (…futile, but also, hot, but POSEIDON WHY)

Ruthlessness is…Mercy upon…Ourselves (here comes the tidal wave, shit)

DIE (what became of “get in the water”? ig poseidon just choose that Ody is taking to long and that he became bored of waiting for him, so now he’ll make sure Ody will get in the water, sooo….Ody is pushed underground….and deeper,..and deeper and….)

The underwater instruments, the piano? underwater?…..man You can relax, my friend (he imagines Polites, telling him to relax, to give in, to just…find rest, here and now) I can tell you’re getting nervous (afraid of dying or afraid of living? yeah ALSO POLITES is in our right ear, and eurylochus in our left, in love in paradise it was the other way around, WHY??? WHATS THE MEANING OF THIS) Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned (he lost so much, what rly has he learned? it was worth nothing in the end because he’s still not home and either he chooses to die, or his family will die, eurylochus pulls him down too, as he sinks deeper) I’ll stay in your heart (his mother wraps his warms around him and pulls him down, she’ll stay in his heart, even when she’s dead, he’ll stay in their hearts, even if he doesnt come back…but…) Oh, woah, Odysseus (beautiful vocals, probably a PAIN to record ngl) Waiting, waiting, waiting, ah (theyre waiting for him in the underworld…he takes his last breath….but…he cant give up his family is waiting, the man who he was before gets buried, he drowns)

[tgrailwar-zero]

... your mercy is much appreciated, Emperor Nero. As for the 'why didn't you summon me immediately' quandary, well. After our big mistake with Lucius, I think a lot of us wanted to avoid fumbling the bag again, so to speak. Not to mention Father Kotomine and Jaguar Warrior seemed like they were looking forward to getting a fellow Monitor back, but... it seems like you don't share the sentiment?

NERO: "Did I ask for your excuses? Or for you to barrage me with questions? And this nonsense… 'War Monitors', 'Origins', 'Priests'… and you all, begging me for information like this. You and this 'Solar Cell' are both causing my head to ache."

She had asked for an explanation, though pointing that out seemed like a poor decision.

Additionally, it seemed like unless she wanted to elaborate further, you may not get any much regarding her manifestation outside of 'she did it', in a manner as natural as breathing. Though her stance regarding the Solar Cell seemed readily apparent.

NERO: "And what's this about worrying about some other Servants? Am I not threat enough? Am I not important enough? My needs are exigent! Did I not declare you my Ensemble? And yet you dance to the tune of others? Should my punishment be harsher?"

CONSTANTINE: "And yet, their 'punishment' so far is simply you joining us. It seems like your mind was set from the beginning, wasn't it?"

Rather boldly, CONSTANTINE spoke up. NERO's expression wavered slightly, her attention focusing intently on him.

NERO: "Mmnn… that 'know-it-all' tone, why are looking as if you figured something out, Constantinus-- or, 'Constantinos', was it?"

CONSTANTINE: "Nothing, you're just a bit gentler than I expected. Or more discerning than you may act. As you said, crimes against the Emperor are a grave offense, and there's no shortage of Servants willing to undercut or slaughter my Masters."

…So this was her being kind? I guess comparatively, people have tried to kill you, so this was 'nicer'…

And, in her verbal tempest, she essentially just vented about her frustrations regarding your actions, and then essentially declared her intent to journey with you.

It seemed like she was someone who trusted her judgement and her judgement alone, for whatever reason. Traveling with CONSTANTINE and KUKULKAN, a king and a god, you felt the most pressure emanating from this Servant alone. While the two of them wore their 'doubt' openly, it seemed as if this Servant was almost devoid of the concept of 'doubt' altogether.

And for good reason- this was an Emperor of the Julio-Claudian Dynasty, from the era where 'Emperor' and 'God' were nearly synonymous. To many, trying to contradict the decree of an Emperor was like trying to argue with the rotation of the sun.

NERO cleared her throat, turning away from CONSTANTINE in a huff.

NERO: "Mm. Well, I have not forgiven them, so they should not feel relieved yet."

NERO: "Ah, yes! Those are the cheers I desire! My mood is already beginning to brighten! If you simply wish for more of my art, then ask, and I will indulge! My catalogue on the Solar Cell is sparse, but grant me the time, and I shall have a thousand scripts worth of beautiful artistry!"

It seemed like the best way to get on her good side was praise. An artist at heart, it seemed as if she could not deny any form of applause.

NERO: "The peak of artistry! Beloved by all! One who takes the stage, and has their crafts praised by their audience, immortalized forever!"

She declared, definitively.

NERO: "Unfortunately, I cannot share the next act, as I do not remember it. I do not recall what came over me when I first wrote it, just that I was truly pulling the artistry from my heart. My 'beautiful memories'. I wish to find them as well. Without them, it is like sailing through a fogged ocean."

She smiled, somberly.

NERO: "I was a Servant of the Lunar Holy Grail War... I know that, and I know I had a Master. We fought a good war together, against many opponents. Though now, their faces are all blurs to me. Even his. But I remember something, before our 'ending'."

So it seemed like she didn't have her entire set of memories back either. Perhaps more than the average Servant did when they were restored from an Origin, considering her outburst, but it was still limited.

Her expression grew dour.

NERO: "...I do not wish to talk about it right now, it makes my heart ache and my head hurt. I have just been summoned, and was in a pleasant mood. Am I not allowed my own peace for a moment?"

Abruptly, she expressed her desire to change the subject, moving on quickly. Perhaps that's something she'd be open to sharing later.

NERO: "Aha! Now that is a good change of pace! A splendid, beautiful vision indeed! Though that Avenger is a musician, you say? Then he simply has no choice but to join us! Welcome, my new composer!"

It seems as if AVENGER has been/is being conscripted to join your team.

Well, no point in arguing against an Emperor.

AVENGER: "Pardon?"

[98rad]

Reading a book at work today and here’s a quote “unfortunately, the slow pace of transformation also makes it easy to let a bad habit slide…”

“…but when we repeat 1 percent errors, day after day, by replicating poor decisions, duplicating tiny mistakes, and rationalizing little excuses, our small choices compound into toxic results.”

I highlighted the end part because it resonated with me with a problem I’m having. Difficultly leaving a sin, I’m sure many of us have this problem whether big or small, we recognize it’s an issue. We may pass this sin off as ‘Allah is forgiving’ ‘it’s no big deal’ etc. you know what I mean, we’ve all been there… while the fact of Allah being merciful is true, we should always try and respect Him ﷻ and acknowledge our mistakes and sins, not belitte them. Belittling them is a form of denying your disobedience.

Maybe you have the opposite thought process? Maybe, you think you sin too much and Allah will never forgive you, this is another tactic of the Shaytaan. Remember a couple of things, the Shaytaan promised to mislead you, the waswas (whispers) you go through are there for that very purpose, help you stray away from Allah and his mercy, remember that Allah loves us 70 times more than our very own mothers, He ﷻ is closer to us than our jugular vein, and if we never sinned he would wipe us out and bring people who would just so he can forgive them. We aren’t perfect but should strive in the path of being close to Allah.

May Allah ﷻ help us leave that which is bad for us and guide us to righteousness, May he Allow us to be closer to Him Ameen

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar��thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 38

Approaching the war table the next morning, Solas heard the advisor's voices already from far away. Now with the Herald back at the front, there was some direction in their dispute. They didn't speak all at once any longer, since Ellana demanded them to hear each other out. However, it was a heated argument about a point Solas could very well guess. He was sure to bring closure to their most dire problem.

Nearing the table, Cassandra spotted him first. “Solas”, she addressed him in her strict manner. “You appear to have a sense for rifts. Are there any nearby?” Looking around, Solas found four other tense faces, waiting for his answer. “Nothing to report, Seeker. The veil is strong in this area.” “Good. Then we at least do not have to worry about demons along our way.” “That means time remains our greatest enemy.” Cullen made a step towards Ellana. “Herald, I implore you, my proposal leads to the closest settlement from here. We cannot go hillwalking for weeks with a camp full of injured, untrained pilgrims.” The spymaster answered instead: “Your loyalty to the templars is honourable, but even you should not want to get so close to them again.”

Another quarrel ensued, with Josephine trying to soothe everyone but failing and Ellana pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn't know this area herself, so she had to make a choice based on these shems' opinions. Sometimes she missed even Corypheus.

She remembered Solas when he walked into her direction and gave him an apologetic look. For ignoring him. For the noise. For...everything. “Is there something else to report, Solas?” “I meant to submit a proposal myself. There is a fortress in these mountains, located in the north from here. We should arrive there within a few days. Considering its past use, it should have old trade routes we can repurpose to transport our own supplies. If we are looking for a new hideout for the Inquisition rather than to be at the mercy of other owners, it would be the most practical option.” Ellana furrowed her brows, surprised by the sudden solution. “A fortress? How do you know this?” “It has once been a very busy place. In ancient times, our ancestors used to visit it. Later, Fereldans came to claim it. Lastly, it was owned by dwarves. Such activity leaves traces in the fade.” “...that you just accidentally happened to pick up?” “I was aware of the fortress already in Haven, but there was no need to report it. Now, I think we should use the opportunity.”

Not everyone agreed. “I grew up in these lands. If there was a fortress in the Frostback Mountains, I would know about it”, Cullen protested. “Well, it hasn't been in use since after the Third Blight. I assume you Fereldans forgot about it.” “So it's a ruin? Probably useless? If it even exists?” “It looked well enough-” “-in the fade.” Cullen let out a desperate snort. “Herald, please, we can't let our soldiers search for...a pile of ancient stones, because an apostate dreamed about it. We need real shelter and supplies. Even reinforcements. Healers. Quickly.” “Well, at first, to get me listen to you in the first place, you must stop calling me Herald.” Cullen wiped his brow. “Maker's breath...” “And Andraste's flaming tits!”, Ellana shouted. “How hard is it to say my name? I know elves called Otargeniman and Sulahnadahlen just so you know you're lucky!” The Knight Commander scowled at her, then remembered who he believed her to be. “Miss Lavellan...”, he tried to say calmly. “Our people are running out of strength. And patience. This dream fortress should be out of the question.” He gave Solas a scowl now.

Solas took it without a wince. “Since you are concerned about time, how long to you plan your people to wait for the negotiations with whoever you are trying to form an alliance with in Ferelden? Remember, this organisation is running short of allies.” “That's why I suggested Orlais”, Leliana butted in. Val Royeaux has taken notice of us. I'd say impudence wins.” “But not with a group of apostate rebels in tow! We already spoke about this!”, Cullen flared up. “I mean, impudence and furtiveness.” “Assassins is what you say”, Cassandra clarified. “No, there will be no need for such methods. We will prove ourselves trustworthy to our future allies with peaceful negotiations”, Josephine begged.

“Guys, guys!” Ellana waved her hands in the air to make them stop. “Now that you expressed your opinions in your delightful human way, how about this: all your suggestions include going further north at some point, because nobody likes to risk meeting the archdemon again. Yes, even yours, Cassandra. So, we will look for that fortress on the way, it will be the closest destination. Solas should help locating it.” He nodded at her contentedly. “If we don't come across it, or find it to be a pile of useless rubble, we move on from there.” “And to where, I wonder?”, Cassandra narrowed her eyes. Ellana sighed. “We have time until then to make that decision.” Cassandra rolled her eyes while Leliana seemed to already form a plan in her head. “At least we're moving on.” Cullen calmed himself down.

Solas looked at the silencing group, satisfied with the result, as Ellana approached him quietly. “So...this fortress....you think our ancestors lived there? Ancient elves?” He lit up at her question, as if he had been waiting for it. “Indeed, however, finding a trace of our culture in the fortress itself will be difficult, since there have been many alterations over the ages. It should look rather dwarven now, with sturdy walls and sharp edges. But nevertheless useful for our cause.” “Does that mean you saw our ancestors in the fade?” Her expression was full of doubt. “Shadows of them, I heard fragments of their memories, the ancient tongue. I saw golden ornaments on crystal walls and a library bursting with tomes. Sadly, I believe we will not find them in the waking world.” Ellana blinked, overwhelmed by what she heard. “Do you believe everything you see in the fade?” “I still have my sanity and reason, if that is what you mean.” “Looking for answers in dreams is a dangerous ordeal”, she said, amusing Solas with the attempt of lecturing him. “I'm...curious what we will find in this fortress, if it exists.” “I never said not to be careful. I could be full of bandits.” She snorted. “Pirates with daggers in their mouths, counting their gold...” “Elven pirates then? Flying with aravels over the mountains?” She chuckled at the image and Solas regretted she couldn't really picture it.

He left the discussion soon after, because there was someone else who needed his attention.

Dorian's heart skipped a beat when he realized who visited him. Again. As if it was the most normal thing in the world. Another inside joke they shared, save from Varric and Blackwall, who weren't there to spoil the moment.

He tried not to stare too much, at the elf's lean figure, his straight posture, the little strut he allowed himself despite insisting to be a modest hermit. The coat that, admittedly, looked as if a blind man had stitched it together with the oldest scraps of fabric within reach, was belted just tightly enough to emphasize a slender waist. His leggings accentuated his long legs, his thighs and...other parts Dorian didn't dare to think about. It hurt to admit it, but considering the resources this elf had on hand in the wilds, he...did his best.

“Good morning, Dorian. Did you sleep well?” Such a...common greeting, but feeling strange, directed at him. “Well enough, considering the circumstances...” Dorian just about stopped his complaint, because the elf hadn't been too fond of these so far. This time, Solas reacted with the most adorable look, tilting his head and eyeing him curiously. Then he offered him his hand. “You mind a more thoroughly analysis?” Dorian almost coughed, but turned it into clearing his throat. When he held out his hand, he noticed in shock that it shivered. The Tevene curse was on the tip of his tongue, but Solas didn't seem to notice. He curled his fingers around Dorian's and closed his eyes.

Then Dorian stared, shamelessly. At the sharp features that he had never expected to soften for him and the hand that began to glow slightly. Sensing the tickle that ran along his arm, through his body, he realized that healing had never felt like this. The sting of sharp needles was missing. The nauseating feeling of his bones and tissue being forced back into order, that would press against his tongue until he lost all his stomach contents. Well, he wasn't terribly hurt anymore, no need for such brute force. Still, he made a mental note to ask about it. It seemed that Solas had his magic under control again and what had brought them to lose their minds was now gentle and helpful. The glow faded as Solas opened his eyes.

“I feel...better now”, Dorian stated, giving Solas a surprised look. The elf only nodded as if he had done something trivial. “I wasted your energy yesterday”, he said quietly, full of regret. Looking up, he went on: “Where are Varric and Blackwall?” Dorian didn't like the change of topic at all. “They were in good hands, last I saw them. No, I don't mean to make any implications, they are swarmed by healers and admirers that seem to want them to either heal faster or get earlier into their grave. Not sure yet.” To Solas' startled expression, he added: “Don't worry, Varric is already writing the tale and Blackwall is yelling at soldiers. They're both tough.” Tougher than me, was the conclusion Dorian hadn't intended to make. Welcome back, taste of foot in mouth.

But the real conclusion Solas came to was that the Tevinter was left alone by those he saved. Talk spread, of course, about his noble deeds, but nobody except for the healers seemed to dare get close to him. Regret washed over him and he sat beside Dorian on his bed. Now unfortunately, his feelings created a lump in his throat and emptied his mind. Awkward silence was the outcome.

He didn't know that for Dorian, this silence didn't feel awkward. Of course, he wished he had something witty to say. But the simple fact that Solas was sitting next to him and expressed sympathy flattered him. He didn't even pick up on the easy tease. “How are you?”, Dorian suddenly came up with. Solas lifted his head, looking as puzzled as he should have been. “I imagine it must've been...hard for you....Having to say farewell to your friends. We didn't exactly plan to come back...And now healing us...I imagine nobody asks about how exhausted you are.” The elf regarded him, giving Dorian the impression that he said something unbelievably silly. Heat rose up to his cheeks while he recalled...it wasn't that stupid, right?

“You are right...”, the elf said surprisingly soft. “Alas, I am not the one who made the sacrifice. My well-being does not matter in this situation.” “It matters to me.” Now he really rose to award-winning levels of stupidity. The elf averted his gaze, possibly embarrassed. “...and to Blackwall...and Varric...and...Ellana...”, he went on, trying to salvage it. “I mean, we are your friends...” Solas was still looking away. Now, come on. Could a simple “How are you” do so much damage?

“Thank you”, Solas finally said, and it stung differently than a scolding. “...For reminding me...Sometimes I forget...” He couldn't say more. Dorian sat up, moved closer to the upset elf. “It's an odd place, this Inquisition...It seems all of Thedas is coming together for a greater cause. And borders and statuses become blurred. I didn't think it would be possible, but I begin to like these people, despite their lacking conception of hygiene and home comforts...” He saw Solas' ears twitch. Oh, how much he missed these. How much he liked these. Maker forbid if Solas ever got the hint. The elf's chuckle lifted a rock from his chest. The entire Frostback Mountains. And the violet eyes directed at him... Elven eyes were so very fascinating. Especially his.

“I feel the same”, Solas whispered. “The Inquisition surprises me every day.” “It's a place of wonders, indeed.” Dorian gave him a smirk. “May I ask again: how are you?” Confusion flashed over Solas' features. I...I am glad you are alive...” He huffed out a faint chuckle. “Do you accept this as an answer?”, he asked as if he was following an order. Nevertheless, Dorian's heart skipped another beat. Making a thoughtful face, he tapped his chin. “Huh...It's a short answer, lacking a certain self-analysis, but it's nonetheless appreciated.” Solas looked relieved. “That is...good, is it not?” “For now.” They smiled at each other, approvingly. It was a wonderful moment.

None of them noticed the Dalish elf that peeked through the tent flaps and pressed a hand against her mouth.

Notes:

Otargeniman: from Antiva Sulahnadahlen: song of the forest

[salafiway]

*O’ My Beloved Brothers Series #15 - Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymeen, may Allāh have mercy on him*

Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymeen, may Allāh have mercy on him, said:

“O’ my [beloved] Brothers: The only actions that nullify fasting, except for menstruation and postpartum bleeding, are those done knowingly, consciously, and willingly, while remembering that one is fasting.

The First Condition: Knowingly committing these nullifying actions renders one accountable. However, if done unknowingly, accountability is waived, ˹The believers pray,˺ “Our Lord! Do not punish us if we forget or make a mistake. Surah al-Baqarah, al-āyah 286. This principle applies whether the individual is unaware of the religious rulings, such as not recognising actions that invalidate fasting, or ignorant of the time, like mistakenly assuming dawn or sunset has occurred. For instance, consuming food while believing dawn has broken, or eating before sunset due to a misconception, does not invalidate the fast.

Nevertheless, if an individual is conscious that the sun has yet to set, they must refrain from consuming until it does. For instance, if someone inadvertently eats after dawn breaks and later realises their mistake, their fast remains valid, and there's no obligation to compensate for that day's fast since they were unaware of the time. Allāh has sanctioned the consumption of food and drink until it becomes evident that dawn has indeed arrived. Therefore, one is not obligated to compensate for actions that were deemed permissible by religious law.

The Second Condition: It is imperative for a fasting individual to remain mindful of their fast. If one unintentionally eats due to forgetfulness, their fast remains valid, and there is no requirement to compensate for it. The Prophet's, صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيهِ وَسَلَّم, instruction to continue fasting even after consuming food or drink serves as evidence of the fast's validity. Moreover, attributing the action to Allāh underscores that the fasting person won't be held accountable. However, upon remembering or being reminded of their fast, one should immediately cease eating and expel any food from their mouth, as the excuse of forgetfulness no longer applies. Similarly, it is incumbent upon anyone witnessing a fasting person eating or drinking to gently remind them of their fast.

The Third Condition: Deliberately breaking one’s fast involves a conscious choice to do so. However, if a fasting person is compelled or forced to break their fast, such as under duress, their fast remains valid. Allāh pardons individuals who are coerced into actions against their will, as long as their faith remains unwavering in their heart.

If a husband coerces his wife into intercourse while she is fasting, her fast remains valid, and she is not required to make it up. However, it is impermissible for him to compel her during her fast, except in the case of a voluntary fast, with her explicit consent, while he is present.

Similarly, if dust or any foreign object inadvertently enters a person's mouth and reaches their stomach, or passes through their throat while rinsing their mouth during ablution, their fast remains valid, and there is no obligation to make it up.

Applying eye-liner or using eye drops during fasting does not invalidate the fast, even if one perceives their taste in the throat. This is because they are neither classified as food nor drink, nor do they serve the function of nourishment or hydration. Similarly, using ear drops or applying medicine to a wound for treatment purposes does not break the fast, even if one senses the taste in the throat, as they also do not fall under the category of food or drink and do not function as such.

Tasting food without swallowing it or smelling oils and fragrances does not invalidate the fast. However, caution is advised against sniffing incense smoke, as it may inadvertently reach the stomach through the throat. Similarly, rinsing the mouth or cleaning the nostrils with water during ablution does not nullify the fast. It's important, though, to avoid sniffing water too forcefully into the nostrils to prevent it from reaching the stomach.

Additionally, using the _miswāk_ (tooth-stick) is permissible and even recommended at the beginning and end of the day, whether one is fasting or not. It is advisable for the fasting individual to refrain from using toothpaste to clean their mouth during fasting, as it has a strong flavour that may potentially mix with saliva and reach the stomach. Therefore, it is recommended to rely on the _miswāk_ (tooth-stick), which is sufficient for oral hygiene during fasting.

O’ my [beloved] Brothers: Strive to comprehend the teachings of Allāh’s Book, as it leads to worshipping Him with true knowledge. Indeed, those with knowledge are not on the same level as those without it. If Allāh desires goodness for His servant, He grants them understanding of the religion.”

Majālis Shahr Ramadān | Al-Majlis al-Khāmis ‘Ashr | Page 105-111 | Shaykh ibn ‘Uthaymeen, [may Allāh have mercy on him].

Translation: Authentic Quotes

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[tammyblackday]

My heart.

I'm not, nor have I ever claimed to be, a perfect human. I make all kinds of mistakes on a daily basis. I learn from most of my mistakes Sadly, the ones I've made with the family I raised and my family of origin keep me from living my fullest and best life. I'll do my best to explain, knowing that some of what I'm writing contradicts itself and/or my own beliefs.

I do believe that everyone has the right to choose who they want to have active in their lives. And, I also believe that ending a relationship with another person can be used as a control tactic and that the person on the receiving end is at the mercy of the other. Let me see if I can explain this better.

I didn't get a choice in my divorce. It was thrust upon me. I didn't get to choose for two of my children to go no-contact after a lifetime of working things through. I wasn't given a choice to never hear from my closest niece again. I have absolutely no idea why after twelve years of connection, healing, and relationship building, that my father would tell me to leave him alone forever. I had no say in my brother deciding that he no longer wants us to "meet in any way" again.

Did I play my part in these failed relationships? Of course I did. However, my ex and I were amicable and still had family time together for nearly two years after our divorce. Then, he suddenly decided he was done. I've a niece who ended a close relationship and used my words against me as justification for doing so. My kids and I spoke at least weekly, if not daily, for many years after they became adults. They became more distant from me after I met my now husband because of my inability to deal with changes in my life, but we'd kept trying until suddenly one tells me they had only met with me to end our relationship and the other just started to ignore me for years. I tried too hard and made too many mistakes, which drained them emotionally.

Over the past three years, I've learned through the internet about my daughter's college achievements and my son's born son that I've never met. My niece has two beautiful children. My dad expressing himself freely without judgement from me. Their lives seem to be better without me, but my life is certainly not better without them.

I may have played a part but I didn't get a say. None of these family members actually know me, or have taken time to ask me about who I have become or who I am. Instead, they've taken details from their own lives and sporadic interactions with too much passing time in between and created a version of me that they can reject. I'm easy to hate if you freeze-frame me on one of my worst days.

Imagine you know someone your whole life, but then decide to only focus on all the "bad" things or "negative" interactions you've experienced. It becomes easier to reject them. Plus, you're in control. You now get to determine aspects of that person's life without being accountable for the pain and suffering you've caused them.

This is where things become contradictory because what about the pain and suffering I've caused them? Yes, I have caused pain and not handled myself in the best manner possible.

No excuses.

And, I'm a communication person. I believe all relationships can be healed and managed with mutual respect and clear communication. However, both parties must be willing to get to know each other more than they think they do. They've no respect for me. I lost that over the years. Unfortunately, none of them can articulate to me how.

As for me, not only have I worked hard at therapy and trauma healing over the past three years, I've accomplished so much in my life. I've moved. I'm in the process of getting a diagnosis that helps provide a framework for my undesirable behaviors, such as emotional deregulation during stressful encounters and blurting out what is on my mind without considering the implications. I've also worked to become more aware of the importance of setting boundaries for myself and taking "time-outs" to think before I speak.

These are all great attributes that have improved many of my relationships. Unfortunately, I've no control over my family's willingness to consider reconciliation and forgiveness. I've the desire to heal but no power in the pain.

So, what do I do? I keep learning and growing. I keep trying to figure out how to express myself in healthy ways that help me to let go of the past and those who no longer desire to know me. I hope there comes a day in which we can navigate a new kind of relationship that's built on trust, understanding, compassion, and a willingness to assume best intentions. One of love.

[dinaive]

The Noble Marriage Between the Parents of Imam Abu Hanifa (Rahmatullah Allaih)

One of our pious predecessors, Thabit Bin Nu’man , was hungry and tired as he was passing through a garden that bordered a river. He was so hungry that he could hear his stomach growling, and so his eyes became fixed on the fruits he saw on the various trees of the garden. In a fit of desperation, he forgot himself and extended his hand to an apple that was within reach. He ate half of it and then drank water from the river. But then he became overcome with guilt, despite the fact that he had only eaten because of dire need.He said to himself, “Woe unto me! How can I eat someone else’s fruits without his permission? I make it binding upon myself not to leave this place until I find the owner of this garden and ask him to forgive me for having eaten one of his apples.“After a brief search, he found the owner’s house. He knocked on the door and the owner of the garden came out and asked him what he wanted.Thabit Bin Nu’man said, “I entered your garden that borders the river, and I took this apple and ate half of it. Then I remembered it does not belong to me, and so I ask you now to excuse me for having eaten it and to forgive me for my mistake.“The man said, “On one condition only I will forgive you for your mistake.“Thabit Bin Nu’man asked, “And what is that condition?“He said, “That you marry my daughter.“Thabit Bin Nu’man said, “I will marry her.“The man said, “But heed you this; indeed my daughter is blind, she does not see; mute, she does not speak; deaf, she does not hear.“Thabit Bin Nu’man began to ponder over his situation; a difficult predicament indeed did he find himself in now; what should he do? Not get out of it, thought Thabit, for he realised that to be tested by such a woman, to take care of her, and to serve her, are all better than to eat from the foul matter of the Hellfire as a reward for the apple that he ate. And after all, the days of this world are limited.And so he accepted the condition to mary the girl, seeking his reward from Allaah, Lord of all that exists. He was nonetheless somewhat anxious in the days prior to the marriage.He thought, “How can I have intimate relations with a woman who neither speaks nor sees nor hears?“So miserable did he become that he almost wished for the earth to swallow him up before the appointed date.Yet despite such apprehensions, he placed his complete trust upon Allaah and he said, “There is neither might nor power except with Allaah. Indeed to Allaah do we belong and indeed to Him shall we al return.“On the day of the marriage he saw her for the first time. She stood up before him and said, “Peace, mercy and blessings of Allaah be upon you.“When he saw her grace and beauty, he was reminded of what he would see when he would imagine the fair maidens of paradise (i.e., the gorgeous hoor al-ayn). After a brief pause he said, “What is this? She indeed speaks, hears and sees.” He then told her what her father said earlier.She said, “My father has spoken the truth. He said I was mute because I do not speak any forbidden word, and I have never spoken to any man who is not lawful to me (i.e., she has never spoken to any ghair mahrams)! And I am indeed deaf in the sense that I have never sat in a gathering in which there is backbiting, slander, or false and vain speech! And I am indeed blind, in the sense that I have never looked upon a man who is not permissible for me!”The fruit of this marriage was the birth of a child who grew up to be one of the most prominent Imams of all times, the founder of the Hanafi School of Discipline in Islam- Imam Abu Hanifa (Rahmatullah Allaih). Reference: Abdul-Malik Mujahid (2004) Gems And Jewels. Published by: Dar-us-Salam Publications. pp. 261-263

[god-whispers]

mar 21

only one breathe between here and there

"brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope." 1 thess 4:13

i am now reaching that age where i have many friends and family that are going from this world into the next; too many.  some i am sure know Jesus as savior. some i am sure do not.  some i am doubtful they know Him as savior and now i can no longer ask them if they do?  ask someone you love while it is still today.  and i would remind you, we are commanded to love our neighbor as our self.

the word says, "you do not know what will happen tomorrow.  for what is your life?  it is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." james 4:14 when i was young, i thought schooling would last forever; that i would never grow up.  the years since have rapidly vanished, even as a beginning breeze cannot prevail against tornadic winds when encountered.  it must move with it in ever increasing speed.  likewise, our years evaporate in the journey we all must take.

my good friend has several grown children, but that makes them no less her children still.  she carried them in her body, fed them, bounds up their wounds when needed, loved them and eventually released them to their own life as we all should.  released them to make their own choices and yes, mistakes.

one of her sons suddenly, unexpectedly took his last breath yesterday.  sadly, that day happened to fall only day after my friends birthday, marring it forever.  i cannot say for sure whether he knew Jesus as savior or not.  none of us can make that call but i do not think he did and, if not, his time to make that choice for God is now over.  eternity now lies ahead of him.

laying aside whether one believes there is a heaven and a hell, it will be an eternity with or without God.  the God you either chose to deny or never had time for - time to investigate whether these things be true or not.  scripture says, "since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse."  rom 1:20  all are without excuse.  we choose to believe what we choose to believe.  we ignore what we choose to ignore.

it has often been said, "none of us know how much time we have," and that's true.  our times are in His hands.  we all think we will have time for that last minute prayer but that probably won't not be the case.  the hurriedness of the situation often precludes it.  the death of my friend's son was sudden and dramatic.  ours may be as well.

please pray for my friend.  pray for her son's now widow and children left behind.  and please... please don't put off something so important for the tomorrow that may never be.  God is so good and loving and merciful.  "not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance." 2 pet 3:9

"do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom." luke 12:32  yes, He wants to give us the kingdom.  He had you and me in mind when He created it.

oh the blessings and the goodness of God.  "it is like the dew of hermon, descending upon the mountains of zion; for there the Lord commanded the blessing — life forevermore." psa 133:3  just don't wait too long to receive that blessing.

[doyouremem8erme]

Anne comes back.

Sasha hasn't seen her in two months, she'd had no idea if she'd ever see her again, but--she's back now, with the Plantars at her side and a thousand questions on her tongue.

And of course, one of those questions is--

"Is Marcy alive?" Anne asks, half-hesitantly, like she's afraid of the answer she might receive but is too desperate to care.

Sitting beside Anne on her bed in the cave-turned-room that they'll now be sharing, Sasha runs through a dozen ways to answer in her mind. None of them will relieve Anne's anxiety as quickly as a simple "Yes."

"Oh, thank frog," Anne breathes, deflating into Sasha's side. "I kept--I kept telling myself that but deep down I thought there was no way it could be true. How…? Where…?" 

Sasha grimaces. "I…I don't actually have any direct evidence that she's okay, but Andrias clearly wanted her alive. She was…she was still alive when I had to flee the castle with Grime. If I could've just gotten to her, if I could've just been faster--"

"Hey, hey. You did what you could. Besides, what would you have done for her here? You saw what happened to her. I didn't think there'd be any way she could heal from that, but if that overgrown lizard had a way…it's more than you could've done."

"But now she's a prisoner in that castle and I have no way of knowing what she's going through!" Sasha says, throwing her arms wide. "She could be alone and in pain in some dark cell in the dungeons. They could want her for information, they could be hurting her right now, they could be doing anything. Sometimes--sometimes I can't sleep at night because I can't stop imagining the worst-case scenarios for her. I left her there. If I'd taken her, even if she wouldn't have made it, at least--at least she wouldn't just be left at their mercy."

"Or," starts Anne, and it's true that she fears for all those possibilities too but right now, Sasha is the one beside her with her battle-tough persona cracking open, "Or, she's healing, she's okay and she's plotting her own escape right now, because she's Marcy."

Even as Anne says it, she doesn't believe her own words. She was hurt so badly and the one who did that to her is the one keeping her prisoner in that castle. Sasha could so easily be right. She remembers how Marcy fell to her knees sobbing after she'd rejected the excuses Marcy had made for her betrayal. For so long, Anne had protected Marcy from the world, and it was true that Marcy had come so far since Earth, but that didn't mean she no longer needed their protection. 

She'd been too focused on the box to heed Anne's panicked warning, begging her to hurry, and it had left the box tumbling from Marcy's limp fingers, slingshotting Anne across universes and far away from her. What could they do now, to protect her from what lay in store for her in that castle? How many tears had she cried, hoping her friends would come to her rescue? Or did she believe they still hated her for what she'd done, the mistake she'd used her last breath to apologize for? 

"We're gonna save her, right?" Anne says at last.

"Yeah. She's not gonna be there forever. As soon as we know enough about the castle and can get away from New Wartwood, we're gonna get our lovable little nerd back."

"Will she be okay until then?"

"She'll have to be," Sasha says, looking down. "She'll just have to be."

i need to write self indulgent angst fanfiction abt sasha and anne worrying about marcy

[momentsbeforemass]

Try again

There’s no coming back.

You’ve done too much. You’re too far gone.

There’s no way God would ever take you back, much less forgive you.

These are some of the Enemy’s most effective lies when it comes to keeping us away from God after something has gone wrong in our lives.

It kind of doesn’t matter whether was something that we did to ourselves. Something that was done to us. Or something that just happened.

Once we see it this way, once we see ourselves this way, we close ourselves off from God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

I think we’re vulnerable to this for a couple of reasons.

First, there are people who claim to be “Christians” who are all too happy to condemn things they don’t like about others. Even though a moment’s thought reveals their over-eagerness to condemn as (1) proof that they’re not really Christians (no matter how much they may think they are) and (2) evidence of what they hate about themselves, there’s something about that abuse of the Faith that stays with us. That leaves a mark.

And we’re protecting our pride. By claiming that we’re too far gone, then we can (falsely) excuse ourselves from the hard work of admitting that we were wrong and trying to change. Because that’s a blow to our egos. That leaves a mark too.

The real problem, of course, is that’s not who God is. That’s not how God works.

In today’s first reading, Jeremiah shows us an image of who God really is. Of how God really works, “I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again.”

Jeremiah is showing us how God sees us. In God’s eyes, there is no such thing as too far gone. No one is ever beyond God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

God never gives up on us. Even when we have. The door of God’s heart is always open.

But make no mistake, God isn’t just willing to try again with you.

God wants to try again with you.

God loves you too much to ever throw you away.

Today’s Readings

[astroprompts]

✧ — 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐎'𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

“Some philosophers have called boats the airplanes of the sea.”

“You’re the reason I grew up with a lingering resentment towards authority!”

“Okay, rough start. But definitely not a sign of things to come.”

“The vast nexus of pointless diversions we call the internet actually has a couple productive things to do on it.”

“Fate is a fickle thing. Some of us may try to defy it’s will, but there are enough small businesses with Pizza Hut roofs out there to tell you that such a thing is ultimately futile.”

“Hmm, all the rich guys I know are in positions of power. I should run for office!”

“It ain’t so easy living in a place where plants can’t grow and being naked for an hour means certain death.”

“Welp, so much for real life.”

“Apparently ‘I’m mad butthurt’ isn’t a valid reason for prosecution.”

“Well, when your devotion to God has failed you, there’s only one path in life left; time to become a lawyer!”

“You can’t always get what you want. Unless that thing is getting everyone to hate you. That’s extraordinarily easy!”

“Y’know who likes pointless novelties like that? The incredibly rich!”

“As we know, with great power comes great tomfoolery.”

“Was there ever a human soul as profoundly asinine and willfully ignorant as Amelia Bedelia?” 

“After peanut butter and chocolate, my favorite combination of two things is probably gross incompetence and high explosives.”

“In the words of Danny DeVito; when I’m dead, just throw me in the trash!”

“Oh god dammit, not you again.”

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I saw some trash outside that looked delicious.”

“Y’know what, kid? You’re alright.”

“Say, how’s about we ditch this musty old mausoleum and go back to my place?”

“Fuck you, don’t try to downplay my suffering!”

“I just got shin-bashed in the dick bag! THAT is the proper level of vulgarity relative to the situation!”

“My very being is on fire, and my only desire left is for death himself to bless me with merciful relief.”

“And just when things looked like they couldn’t get any worse, they got worse.”

“Don’t eat strange bread. You could trip balls and die.”

“Fuck you, you cheeseburger slut!”

“We all have our guilty pleasures in life.”

“The human spirit is a very powerful thing.”

“I’m like 90% certain that if I’m ever forced to dance with death, my soul is pussying out to the great beyond first thing.”

“Stories about wayward corpses have certainly carved their niche in today’s media.”

“My personal favorite part of the holiday experience is where we systemically brainwash children into thinking there are supernatural beings who judge their every move and invade their house at night.”

“After reviewing our data, I've come to the scientific conclusion that uh... Yeah, we got a goddamn demon on our hands.”

“Not all stories have a point to them. Sometimes they're just sad and disgusting from beginning to end.”

“If I learned anything from my middle school career, it's that what may seem like a good idea initially will often be remembered only as a foolish mistake.”

“Cartoons are the arbiters of deceit.”

“Excuse me, would you kindly cut the shit?”

“Hey, free drinks are free drinks.”

“Even if I could wrap my head around all this, it'd probably be boring as hell.”

[bemylord]

being their girlfriend/dating them

or they're as your boyfriend

character: sukuna, itadori, nanami, satoru, megumi.

warnings: fluff to smut hdc, curse words, kinda rough and soft boys + sukuna.

note: or they're as your boyfriend/dating them

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ

i don't think he'd call it relationship or love. just the bond that binding you're together. he also doesn't talkative a lot, he prefers to show you his feelings in actions.

as long as itadori is searching fingers, you'll exist in his domain, being the slave and queen in one time. he'd praising and teach you new techniques, but also may use your body as he wants it.

praising to the degradation - generally, nothing new. if you had been bad either you did something on purpose, there will be no mercy for your body and throat - the king knows the way to punish you.

the cute thing is when you are exhausted from the little practice sukuna does in his small domain: breath had been taken away and your body is sweating. all you want is a little break to catch your breath. despite his selfish and demolished nature, he gives you some time in his lap to debilitate your sluggish body. your arms are wrapping around sukuna's neck by accident - it may seem he doesn't give a damn about it, but he pulls you by the waist, put your head on his athletic chest, and have you in arms 'till you'll wake up.

'you are too weak, brat, more energy, put more fury on me, or did you forgotten that i'm the fucking king of this world?' he laughed, knocking off your attacks. he's got a god complex and perfection. 'i'm getting stronger each second, sukuna, don't make yourself as a god'

you are the one he lets talk like that. being tremendously gentle with you is hard for him - he still being rough and could inflict damage, although, after pain, the king will take affection aftercare. but don't think he would murmur some sweat stuff in your ears, just spooning you is enough.

ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ

master of the aftercare. sensei of the smooch and teacher of how to cuddle a person. he's good at those things. you never complain of how warm and strong satoru's arms wrapping your waist and his lips are kissing the back of your neck. after rough sex gojo would make an apology with soft kisses all over your figure.

cute fights in the kitchen while cooking. satoru is very needy and sometimes, he could be clingy for your attention, trying to get it whenever he wants to feel your body. even fight doesn't stop him - gojo would fight back and hitting on you.

show everyone that you're taken by him by marks he left on your soft skin last night. satoru would give you an order to dressing a shirt which will show his label on your body - wanna get a punishment? disobey the order; sure, later, you will regret it. however, it will be somewhere in the future, so you do mind disobey him?

whisper on his ear how long you've been craving for his fat dick in your dripping pussy and satoru would stop everything he did later, just to bury his cock deep into you, feeling the outlining of his member in your stomach. it's driving him insane when his fat dick rearranging your insides. no words could describe emotions in his soul when you're scratching his back whilst satoru is doing the pulsative movements inside you. 'does it feel good, kitten, doesn't it? feeling my cock in your little tummy, my god.. put your hand on the lower abs to perceive it' 'satoru~, i-i won't take any longer, give me that~' how could he disobey the order of his little angel?

gojo would degrade you only you've got the bad attitude. at other times - you may hear as he repeats the words 'you're so fucking amazing, kitten' he's hazing at the throbbing feeling in his cock you've been giving him.

ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ʏᴜᴊɪ

he's so much loves to play games and dancing with you when he has the time to do that - you'll play all games he bought for those evenings when both of you are playing fools and being kids. he may act like a kid around you, but trust me, he isn't good while railing you.

there's no door named exit while he's eating your out. yuji will apologize for not being close when you want to cuddle him or smack your lips against his. his apologies are mostly his head between your legs and his fingers in your cunt, stretching your walls, preparing you for the night. he makes sure you're enough dripping for his throbbing cock. it gives me a vibe that he'll overstimulated your little clit only with his tongue.

having you in missionary position, leaving the half-moon on your hips, unquenchably fucking your overdose cunt filled up with your juices. but you know itadori adores when you're squirting on his dick, shuddering while giving the huge release. 'that's right, beautiful, give your daddy all juices you've got' his words make you squirt one more time when he's finishing on your chest. quick series of spanking on your cunt and you're melting definitively by him.

but most of the time, you're both doing silly stuff that bothering megumi a lot. actually, you've got a game 'who's bothered megumi first'. it's fun to watch how he's activating shikigami dogs. you're idiots, although happy idiots.

ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ

daddy issues. daddy vibes and daddy chill. you've got no choice but to obey every order he told you to do. no way to escape and no way not being fucked to him if you did have time to do his tasks. his big and strong hands pulling your hair back, so you arch your back, feeling his breath in your ear. scream as loud as you can, 'till you reach the high note you could - he won't stop it.

sweat aftercare in the shower where nanami is washing your hair for you, also massaging your shoulders and kissing your stomach sort of excuses for being too extremely rough with you. but you knew he won't be soft, the language of his sex life is rough and painful. but the aftercare is worth having bruises the next morning around your neck.

nanami is an obsessive and dominant lover, he would mark you as his baby girl, his property, and the woman he's seeing his future with. even if you've got powerful and strong abilities nanami still doesn't allow you to battle the curse. think whatever you want to - he doesn't like the thought of having your dead body in his arms. he doesn't like the thought his small girl would have injuries from the demon.

nanami will show his love in action rather than words. you've got an unspoken rule to kiss your partner when they're tired of the work or giving a good morning/goodnight kiss. even if you're sleeping, nanami kisses your forehead before going to work. nothing could stop him from the morning kiss. you baked warm goods before he returns from the office or battle tired and having no strength. he fucking loves your baked bun.

after work, you make a warm bath for him, where he can loosen his body, burying his face in your hair. 'sweetie, i love you so much, so-so-so much. with you i can enervate myself and get lost in your smell, wrapping arms around your waist, feeling like it's my private heaven'

ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ

i've got a feeling he'd be an overprotective boyfriend. doesn't leave you alone with itadori for the reason he's a vessel for sukuna - don't treat him weird, he trusts itadori, but not sukuna. doesn't like when you interrupting his battle using your abilities because it's making him think about implications.

doesn't show his affection among other students because doesn't like being called a clingy or needy puppy. nevertheless, pulling you closer by your waist to show everyone to fuck away from you. megumi would not hesitate to kiss you with a tongue in front of the students to show them you're taken and your man is crazy.

megumi is more like a homeboy. every time you're alone or having time to spend together, you'll be stuck in his arms 'till you both need to go back to the sorcerer-life. cuddling and smooching are his life - in the bathroom, while you're cooking, watching tv-shows, he's arms around your body, therefore megumi is telling sweet nothings in your ear.

sex life with megumi? complicated question. would be bad and good simultaneously. i still have a thought he'd tied you up and use a flogger on your booty for spanking and preparing your pussy for his dick - it was passed on by his genes [wtf his father omg]. makes you squirt a couple of times, also makes you beg for his fat cock before pull it inside unexpectedly. using a collar with a chain to arch your back 'till it crunches and you moaned because megumi literally choking you.

only god knows how much megumi has kinks for you. how much energy he has to rail you all night and be able to continue that after the sun is illumining the room. 'you're dirty little slut, the rays of the sun in our room, and you still have the energy to squirt' degrading you during coitus and praising you in his muscular arms after.

//~~//

fuck. i was planning to post kuroo x reader x kenma but i deleted my work [by fucking accident i hate myself] that i had been writing since morning. sooo, I'll post it tomorrow. so sorry for the grammar mistake i was writing it on my phone.

[thetinyadventurer]

“You left me behind,” The man snarls at Helga. “You used us and then abandoned us like we were nothing!”

Helga’s voice is low and calm but there is no mistaking the guilt in her eyes.

“William,” She addresses the man. “Listen to me—“

A blast of energy erupts from the man’s crystalline hand and ricochets off of Rourke’s shield.

“You used us!” The man- William- roars. “We helped you get to Atlantis, we defended the hot air balloon while you people tried to get away with The Crystal and OUR cut of the money!”

A deranged laugh echoes across the space between them. “But we were just fodder to you. That became evident when you used my brother as a shield from this guy!”

He pointed an accusing finger at Rourke then turned back to Helga. “My brother was turned to stone and shattered to pieces and when I tried to put him back together I became this!”

He flexes his crystalline fingers. “The pieces of my brother’s body fell from the balloon and down to the ground where I was fighting… He was all I had! I promised our mother I’d bring him home and YOU said you’d keep him safe. He trusted you and you lied!”

“I needed a second in command after Rourke made his choice!” Helga snaps. “Your brother volunteered to be with me, remember?! Look, I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect him but he stepped in front of me! He got between myself and The Commander during the fight and was killed as a result! He was a brave young man but he made his choices! You can’t blame me for that!”

“Helga…Mom…” Lilia whispers, brown eyes wide in her now ashen face. “I don’t think logic and reason are exactly in his wheelhouse right now…”

Lilia addresses William. “So let me get this straight. You and your brother followed after Rourke and Helga, hoping to get a cut of the money from selling off The Crystal. Except, Rourke decides that it’s wrong, you all steal Milo and try to escape… Helga puts your brother in charge as her second in command and he dies trying to defend her… So you escape somehow and spend however many years consumed by a desire for revenge so you beat up Milo and try to kidnap him, hoping to lure out Rourke. Rourke, who, in your eyes was the one who dealt the killing blow… And Helga just happens to show up because of me? So… Good luck on your part I guess? And once you’ve lured Rourke out you take Milo again and bring him here, hoping to… What? Capture Rourke and kill him along with Helga? And you beat Milo up because you’re hoping that Rourke will feel just a fraction of what you felt when you lost your brother?”

Lilia shakes her head. “I’m sorry but you’re a dumbass.”

“Excuse me?!” William snaps. “What did you just say to me you little brat?!”

A vicious smile creeps across Lilia’s face. She speaks slowly, emphasizing every word. “You’re. A. Dumbass.”

William rushes forward, faster than Lilia can ever blink. His crystal fist slams against Rourke’s shield, inches from Lilia’s face. Somehow, there’s no fear in her voice as she adds.

“Yes, you managed to hurt what this Big Guy loves most but you’re forgetting one thing about Lyle Tiberius Thatch-Rourke.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Lilia grins. “He’s one of the bravest people my Mom’s ever known. What was it you said, Mom?”

Helga thinks back and smiles, wickedly. “The man will walk through hell itself to save the people he loves. I would know, he kicked my ass for kidnapping Milo back in Atlantis. And if you just so happen to be the poor, sorry son-of-a-bitch who gets between him and his family and friends… Well…Gods have mercy on your soul because HE won’t.”

“And I just lured you right where I needed you so…” Lilia laughs. “Thanks for cooperating!”

//this was hastily and shittily thrown together on my part. definitely not my best so I’m sorry about that. damn does the bad guy have a screw loose and probably several missing brain cells but hey— (sarcastically) let’s give him a hand for trying and sheer dumb luck on his part! dude’s going to need it!//

"Let's go home."

It's Milo outside, shivering and soaking wet, and looking absolutely miserable, like the whole world has taken turns kicking him, and then doing it againonce he's down. Like he might cry if he isn't already doing so. His glasses are set crooked, so he probably is barely able to see, and thus, he probably doesn't know where he is.

“Oh, my god, Milo!”

I sprint outside so quickly that I don’t even bother putting on my boots. All I’ve got in hand is an umbrella which I struggle to open as I shuffle down the street.

“Milo!” I call out as I run up to him, managing to open the umbrella just in time.

I raise the umbrella up above his head, shielding him from the rain. I have to stand on my tiptoes as I reach up and remove his glasses. I haphazardly use the hem of my shirt to clean off his glasses before gently placing them back on his face. I get how hard it is to see with water-logged glasses as I wear glasses, myself. I don’t even think twice before I grab Milo’s shaking hand.

“Let’s go home.” I murmur, softly as I pull him towards my apartment building, keeping the umbrella above our heads. I squeeze his hand gently for good measure. I know how it feels to be alone and miserable. Milo’s such a sweet, kind-hearted soul and even though I can’t carry his problems for him, I can damn well make them lighter! He would have done the same for me, after all.

I guide him up the stairs and into my apartment building. It’s small for an apartment in Washington DC in the early 1900’s but I do my best to make it feel welcoming. The ivory walls are tinted amber from the lamp-light and the crackling fireplace gives off much needed warmth.

I pull Milo into the bathroom and gesture for him to sit on the edge of the tub.

“I’ll be right back.” I say as I sprint into my bedroom where I rummage through the dresser until I find what I’m looking for: A cozy pair of pajamas, a big, fluffy towel and a pair of socks that an ex of mine forgot to reclaim after we broke up. They’re big enough that they should fit him. I hurry back to the bathroom and gently place the clothes and towel on the edge of the sink.

“These might be a little big on you but they’re better than nothing.” I comment before turning back to him, looking him in the eyes.

I reach out and gently squeeze his shoulder— A simple gesture to reassure him that I’m there for him and that he’s not alone, anymore.

“Take a bath to warm yourself up.” I instruct. “You can put your wet clothes in the sink and I’ll hang them up to dry. Don’t worry about the water, I can clean it up later. There’s some bubble bath here if you like scented things and a rubber ducky to keep you company. His name is George. Feel free to take as much time as you need, okay? When you’re done, dry off and put on these pajamas. Then meet me in the living room. I’ll make us some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows!”

I give him a brief but tight hug. “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to but please know that I’m here for you if you need me. If you need to cry then cry, I won’t judge. If you need to vent to me, I’ll listen. As for advice, well, I’m a shitty advice-giver but I’ll do the best I can to help out. Just do whatever you need to do to feel better, okay?”

I stand up and walk towards the door. “I’ll give you some privacy. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I give him one last smile before shutting the door behind me. I crack my knuckles.

“Okay, time to make some hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup!” I announce to the empty air.

Milo can take all the time he needs to recover. As long as he’s happy and doesn’t catch a cold, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him out. And if I find out who made him cry I’m calling my neighbor, Helga Sinclair, to go kick their asses.

//Sorry that was so long! Thank you for the first ask. Not sure how I did but I hope you like it!//