#bring the surplus of Christ

[a-godman]

Let us Bring a Harvest of Christ to the Meetings for the Genuine Worship of God

We need to daily labour on Christ and have a rich surplus of Christ to bring a harvest of Christ to the meetings of the church for our genuine worship of God. Because the church is the issue of the surplus of the enjoyment and experience of Christ of all the saints, we need to give ourselves to the Lord to labour on Christ throughout the day so that we may have something of Christ to bring to the…

[idabbleincrazy]

The muse is giving me trouble, but here's some more from Self-destruct:

"Been down this side of town a couple times a week these past two months, pet. Wondered if you were ever gonna come seek me out. So, before you go draggin’ off to some alley or something, Pops, tell me, can I bring a friend over to play?”

Angel looked over Spike’s shoulder at the musician, eyes raking over the slight but pleasing figure, so reminiscent of the William he once knew. He nodded and, as if on cue, Iggy crossed the few feet between them.

“Let me just go tell Hilly there’s been a change of plans, then, Spike. Be right back.”

Spike stopped him from turning with a touch and handed him a twenty dollar bill.

“See if you can pry a bottle of whiskey from the old man’s fingers, eh, pet?”

Turning his attention back to Spike as Iggy walked away, Angel finally took his first good look at Spike’s new look, his cock hardening as his gaze traveled from head to toe. There were piercings in his ears, and a safety pin stuck through his eyebrow over his old Slayer scar. A chain with a small lock on it hung around his neck alongside a pair of dog tags he must've taken from a victim, and rings adorned his fingers. Under the leather jacket, he wore a black graphic tee with a rip through the image. Two belts were buckled around his slim waist, one studded with metal and looped through his faded blue jeans, the other loosely sitting over his hips and littered with d-rings like an invitation. The jeans themselves had tears in the knee and opposite thigh, flashing pale skin that tantalized the demon within. The cuffs of the jeans were tucked into a pair of combat boots the blonde must've nicked from an army surplus store. His boy could look good in a burlap sack, and this outfit just screamed of dangerous, dirty fun.

Spike's grin widened and he pressed himself against Angel's bulk, pulling him from his appraisal.

"Haven't asked 'bout my new coat yet, you'll never guess where I got it."

"Well, it is a sight better than the last one, boy, if a bit feminine. Tell me, then."

Spike flashed him a Cheshire smile and turned around again, pulling Angel's arms back around him and resting his head back against his chest.

“Oh, she was a right treat, best fight I’ve had in a long time.” Spike squirmed teasingly in Angel’s embrace, pushing his backside against the prominent bulge he could feel tenting the older vampire’s pants. “Got my second Slayer kill, I did. Just last night. Christ, I’d almost forgotten what a rush you get from drainin’ one of them chits. Can still feel her in my blood, luv. Might let you have a taste, Angelus, if you play nice.”

Angel let out a soft growl, his soul pushed further back by the demon at the offer. Spike turned to face him again, hungry smile gone. There was a curious glint in his eye as he looked up at the elder vampire.

“Who’s tonight for then, luv, you or me?” The look on Angel’s face was all the answer he needed. He laid a palm on Angel’s chest, close to his still heart “What the hell’s happened to you, Angelus? Smelled it in the sub, smell it more now. And less. You smell more like them, like humans, than of demon. Yet you feel darker than I ever remember. I can't figure it out."

"Do you even care?"

"Nah, not really. Just so long as you know how tonight's gonna go."

Without waiting for a response, Spike pulled Angel's head down for a bruising kiss, the potent blood in his veins and the scent of his Grandsire's arousal stiffening his cock almost painfully. Breaking the kiss suddenly, Spike shifted and swiftly pierced his index finger with a fang before letting his human facade fall back into place. A drop of blood welled up from the small puncture and he raised hand to Angel's mouth, smearing the ruby liquid to his bottom lip.

Angel licked the blood away with a shudder and Spike let out a low groan as he leaned forward and captured the still-bleeding finger between his lips, his tongue flicking over the pad until the wound healed. His hand fisted Spike's jacket as the taste of Slayer and Aurelian coated his mouth, and he pulled Spike closer against him, bucking his hips forward to thrust his groin against the blonde's and moaning at the feel of his matching hardness. Angelus was closer to the surface than he had been in a long time, closer, even, than he had been when he'd let the Thesulac demon have its way with the patrons of the Hyperion twenty-five years ago.

~~~~

@leatafandom

[godslove]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

The Greek word for the spiritual gift of giving is metadidomi. It simply means to impart or to give. However, this word is accompanied in Romans 12:8 by another descriptive word: haplotes. It means “sincerely, generously and without pretense or hypocrisy.”

The Holy Spirit imparts this gift to some in the church to meet the various needs of the church and its ministries, missionaries, or of people who do not have the means to provide fully for themselves. The goal is to encourage and provide, giving all credit to God’s love and provision. Those with this gift love to share with others the overflow of blessings God has given them. They are typically very hospitable and will seek out ways and opportunities to help others. They are also excellent stewards and will often adjust their lifestyles in order to give more to the spread of the Gospel and the care of the needy. They are grateful when someone shares a need with them, and are always joyful when they can meet that need.

⁴² “And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, Amen, I say to you, he will not go unrewarded.”

—Matthew 10:42

⁶ Remember this: if you sow sparingly, you will reap sparingly, and if you sow generously, you will reap generously as well. ⁷ Each person should give as much as he has decided in his heart, not with reluctance or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. ⁸ And God is able to enrich you with an abundance of every grace, so that, with all of your needs provided for, you may be able to produce a surplus of good works. ⁹ As it is written, “He scatters abroad his gifts to the poor; his righteousness lasts forever.” ¹⁰ The one who provides seed for sowing and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed and increase the harvest of your righteousness. ¹¹ Enriched in every way, you will be able to practice all your acts of generosity, which, through our intervention, will result in thanksgiving to God. ¹² The administering of this public service not only helps to satisfy the needs of the saints but also overflows in countless acts of thanksgiving to God. ¹³ Through the evidence of such service, you are giving glory to God for your obedient profession of the gospel of Christ and the generosity of your contribution to them and to all others as well. ¹⁴ At the same time, their hearts will go out to you in their prayers for you, because of the surpassing grace that God has bestowed upon you. ¹⁵ Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift.

—2 Corinthians 9:6-15, Generosity Will Prompt Thanksgiving

¹ Now we want you to know, brethren, about the grace of God that has been bestowed on the Churches of Macedonia. ² In a period of severe affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in rich generosity on their part. ³ I can testify that they contributed to the limit of their resources, and even beyond, ⁴ begging us insistently for the privilege of sharing in this service to the saints. ⁵ Far exceeding our expectations, they gave themselves first to the Lord, and then, by the will of God, to us.

—2 Corinthians 8:1-5, Example of Christians of Macedonia

³² The entire community of believers was united in heart and soul. No one claimed any of his possessions as his own, for everything was held in common. ³³ With great power, the apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and they were all greatly respected. ³⁴ There was never anyone among them in need, because those who were the owners of lands or houses would sell them, bring the proceeds of the sale, ³⁵ and lay them at the feet of the apostles, to be distributed to any who were in need. ³⁶ One such instance involved Joseph, a Levite and a native of Cyprus, to whom the apostles gave the name Barnabas, meaning “son of encouragement.” ³⁷ He sold a field that belonged to him and then brought the money to the apostles and laid it at their feet.

—Acts 4:32-37, Life of the First Community

[jdgo51]

DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR DECEMBER 17, 2023

3rd Sunday of Advent

By Caroline Trivena Manurung (North Sumatra, Indonesia)

READ 2 CORINTHIANS 8:1-13

"If the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what one does not have."

2 CORINTHIANS 8:12 (NIV)

"I once participated in children’s ministry at a church in an impoverished community. As Christmas approached, my colleague announced that the church would host a celebration and invite children from a local orphanage. Since the children in the church were in need themselves, I didn’t expect them to offer anything to the children from the orphanage.

On the eve of the Christmas celebration, I was surprised to see the children bringing gifts to church. It turned out that in early December, the children had worked together to collect discarded water bottles. They used the proceeds they received from recycling the bottles to buy gifts which they presented to the children from the orphanage. Our children opened my mind because they succeeded in doing what the verse above states. Even though our children were living in poverty, they gave what they had to the children in the orphanage to show their love and care.

It is easy to feel burdened by difficult circumstances and think, Why should I give while I am still lacking? However, God gives us the strength and the ability to do God’s will. We can all offer something to help the children of God." A willingness to give when your funds are lacking makes all sorts of sense. God will recognize your unselfish motives and reward you in return. Maybe some extra joy or just a good feeling in the stomach that you helped out others. So give freely and not restrict your giving heart.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"O Lord, give us the strength and ability to do good for our neighbors." Amen.

2 Corinthians 8:1-13

"1 Brothers and sisters, we want to let you know about the grace of God that was given to the churches of Macedonia. 2 While they were being tested by many problems, their extra amount of happiness and their extreme poverty resulted in a surplus of rich generosity. 3 I assure you that they gave what they could afford and even more than they could afford, and they did it voluntarily. 4 They urgently begged us for the privilege of sharing in this service for the saints. 5 They even exceeded our expectations, because they gave themselves to the Lord first and to us, consistent with God’s will. 6 As a result, we challenged Titus to finish this work of grace with you the way he had started it. 7 Be the best in this work of grace in the same way that you are the best in everything, such as faith, speech, knowledge, total commitment, and the love we inspired in you. 8 I’m not giving an order, but by mentioning the commitment of others, I’m trying to prove the authenticity of your love also. 9 You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he was rich, he became poor for our sakes, so that you could become rich through his poverty. 10 I’m giving you my opinion about this. It’s to your advantage to do this, since you not only started to do it last year but you wanted to do it too. 11 Now finish the job as well so that you finish it with as much enthusiasm as you started, given what you can afford. 12 A gift is appreciated because of what a person can afford, not because of what that person can’t afford, if it’s apparent that it’s done willingly. 13 It isn’t that we want others to have financial ease and you financial difficulties, but it’s a matter of equality." Be committed to helping others and you can expect some people to reach out to help you. We are all in this together; then work together in peace and love. Blessings abound! Joe

[luminnara]

*ahem* Excuse me queen, I thi k you dropped something: 👑

Hi! ^^ I seek your permission to ask for a request. How would the lost boys react to a female vampire s/o that has a lot of fruit bat traits and qualities? They don't drink blood, they drink from like (mainly) apples and other fruits. Sometimes she would hang upside dowm with them on the bar but she would normally be her or nest most of the time or some small spot she found the cave walls and sleep there. Lol how would deal with her like asking them to bring apples to the cave or how would they react to her secretly stashing in her apples in random small cave walls? :3

Gracias ♡♡ Bye! :D

OH MY GOD this is so cute. And I literally just saw vampire bat/fruit bat GFs art the other day ahhhhh

At first, they don’t believe you. Like, how could you NOT survive on blood??? Fruit??????? What’s that??????????

It’s blood, junk food, or NOTHIN

But then when you show them that you can transform into something (kinda) similar to how they look when they vamp out, they’re super curious

What kind of fruits do you like?

(Apples, bananas, avocados, nectar/honey, etc)

…do they also like those fruits?

(They do not)

Well, can you still drink blood..?

(No, not really, and the though kind of grosses you out tbh)

…well then what CAN you do?

You can fly, just like them. Even further, actually, because your stamina is incredible.

You can roost upside down, just like them, although you enjoy making your own little area off to the side.

You can see great in the dark, and you have just as keen a sense of smell as them…maybe even better, actually, because you can actually sniff out fruit stands while they’re more focused on the scent of blood.

After you move into the cave with them, you find that you enjoy their company. Fruit bats are very social, and you’re no exception! Even if you don’t sleep all snuggled up with them during the day, there’s plenty of time to snuggle at night

There’s also plenty of time to fill the cave with flowers that you enjoy taking care of

David has no idea where you keep getting more plants but he keeps waking up surrounded by MORE AND MORE

the cave isn’t really the ideal spot for gardening, though, since most of it doesn’t receive much sun, so you can’t just grow your own food

Buuuuut you can definitely ask the boys to help you find fruit!

Paul would love it, because it would be like a game for him to bring back as much as possible

Marko would get competitive with him

Dwayne would just enjoy helping you out and taking care of you 😌

David would scoff and complain and pretend he’s ABOVE gathering fruit when he SHOULD be ripping humans apart, but he secretly enjoys taking care of you, too

When he notices the way you keep stashing apples in nooks and crannies all over the cave, though, he starts wondering if they SHOULD just make you go get your own so you have less of a surplus because Jesus Christ that’s a lot of fruit

He thinks it’s super cute though and would never tell you to quit

[jktummies]

Seokjin really didn’t know how to feel leaning against the marble kitchen countertop, cold beer in his hand as he watched his pretty gf talk with her best friend.

You see it’s Jimin’s annual birthday bash which of course tae being his soulmate was an automatic invite and him being taes bf well he had to come.

The past years birthday extravaganza was a lot of fun, him and tae had just started talking and not to mention the mind blowing sex right after when they got home.

But that was before the weight.

Ofc seokjins weight journey was a mutual want and he loved his body and supportive gf more than anything but party scenarios still took time getting used too.

He’s chilling at the same spot as last year, but last year he wasn’t double his size. This years jin could proby swallow last years jin and want more.

He could feel at how people stared at him wether processing if that was the same jin or just glancing down at the shirt that barely fit over his moobs and covered his big belly.

He tired to make it better by putting on a flannel, but that ofc made it worse. It instead emphasized the surplus size of his arms stretching the fabric to a t and making him sweat viciously.

He’s really trying to have fun here talking to his and taes friends here and there even laughing along with yoongi’s story about namjoon breaking his keyboards.

He knew how important jimin is to tae and how his gf should let loose so he’ll keep his social anxiety to himself.

He can just stick by the snack table and maybe start working on the extra liter of sodas jimin bought ( just in case)

He’s halfway done with the chip bowl when tae saunters over to him in that tight dress -fuck

She gives him a grin, manicured hands immediately going to rub his stomach “having fun handsome”

He nods, “oh yeah a plus snack table”

She giggles giving him an opportunity to watch the bounce of her breast. She moves her hand to smooth over his fattened cheeks and what’s left of a neck and she’s staring at him with so much loves it’s impossible to not to press into the touch and leave kisses on her fingers.

She hums moving closer, slender body being enveloped by his fat one. She stops until her lips are right at his ear, “why don’t you take your favorites and get us a room while I grab us a few sodas for you tubby.”

Jins eyes widened. And his gf face is just so wicked intimidating all he can do is nod. She gives a boxy satisfied grin and walks away seeming to do what she proposed.

Immediately jin grabs the plate of brownies, and two boxes of pizza. Ignoring the obvious stares he’s getting as he waddles over to the hallway finding a room for him and tae.

After his third try ones empty and unlocked. He settles on the end texting tae his location. Rn minutes later and she’s walking in with two bottles of coke.

“Ready big guy?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Giving him a greedy smile tae immediately goes to unzip her dress letting it fall to the floor and only being left in her tiny panties. Jin gulped as taehyung began to straddle jins gigantic tree trunk thighs. His chubby hands mechanically coming up to rub her sl waist.

Sitting in his lap her body was automatically enveloped by seokjins growing stomach. Taes hand moved to tug at his shirt giving him the signal that she wanted all his top layers off.

She tried to help him as best she could with removing the tight clothing but they both couldn’t hide the excitement of hearing jins shirt stretch while trying to pull it off.

As soon as the clothing was gone taes hands were roaming all over. Touching and squeezing every roll and fat on him. Her boobs were basically touching his and she gave a harsh squeezing pretty finger going to flick at his nipples

He moaned, face flushing as she hummed and leaned to pepper kisses all over his stomach before lifting it up and letting it fall.

His whole body from checks to arms to his gigantic midsection jiggled and didn’t stop.

“Taeeeee” he whined.

“Oh hush you big baby and open up.”

She held the first slice of pizza up to his plush hips and just watched as jin inhaled it.

“Good boy. So good and fat for me right?”

They were now at the last slice…. Of the first pizza.

“Y-yes, wanna be g-good and big”

“Yeah baby? Wanna get bigger for me?”

He moaned, “yes tae s-so big for you”

Opening up the first soda bottle she smiled, “good. My big baby boy. Getting so big for me, I love it.”

She gave his belly a kiss before smacking it and watching how the jiggles rippled.”

….

Two pizzas boxes and plate of brownies later jin was huffing. He could fell the crumbs and pizza sauce on his face. His stomach was now extended more than his original size.

He could feel how his back arched to support and how cushioned his ass had become to support his top weight.

How it was pushed out of the sides taking up room on the bed. Taehyung grabbed one his tires and let it drop once more.

“So handsome tubby. So fat but not even full yet are you? That’s why your so big you don’t know when to stop.”

Christ his gf was great with dirty talk.

“Tae please I’m thirsty.”

“You’re thirsty? Want some water.”

Jins browns furrowed, “no w-want the sodas”

“Honey but that’s not healthy. You need to drink wat-“

“Don’t wanna! Don’t wanna be healthy.”

Taes soft hand felt so good as it rubbed his under belly, “oh I know you don’t big boy.”

She uncapped the Soda bring it right to his lips and watched as her bf closed his eyes and gulped. Looking at him now she could see how fat his face became. Loosing all hardness. No longer having a pronounced jawline but instead just a double - almost triple chin.

She watched as his belly rose up and down barley as he gulped. She could feel how big it’s grown against her but still soft to the touch.

Eventually she felt the tapping of seokjins chubby fingers telling her she’s finished.

His faces scrunches and she already knows.

“You got gas love bug.”

He nods and she’s reminded of a little child with the face he’s making.

She cooes cupping his chubby cheeks before going to feel around for gas bubbles.

It’s uncomfortable say the least for jin. Waiting for tae to find those certain spots that just make hi-

UUUUURRPPP

his cheeks immediately redden.

I’m sorry I-

Tae and him both hear the gurgling before it happens. Jin dosent know when he lost control of his body maybe several pounds ago but before he knows it a loud fart ripped through.

He’s as red as can be but tae pecks the hands covering his face.

“Hey I like it remember, I like when my big boy get his gas out yeah?”

Jin nods hands still covering his face, “yeah but still it’s embarrassing.”

Tae laughs determined now to make Jin let everything out. And that she does, immediately jin belches.

“Ya- URRRRRRPPPP”

“Hmm good one”

Her newly rubs are never ending making him belch and fart for who knows how long. It’s not until he calmed down and finally relaxed that she gives him a mischievous grin.

“We still have another bottle tubby”

[sydmarch]

christ I always bring all my gifts home unwrapped & wrap them here both so it's easier to bring everything on the train & bcus my parents always have a surplus of wrapping supplies so I'm exhausted wrapping my gifts right now & feeling like. god I do NOT have the emotional energy to have to write my deadname six times in a row lmfao I'm just gonna sign everything with an s and if anyone asks tmrw be like it was late I just wanted to get it finished

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

7th November >> Mass Readings (USA)

Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

1 Kings 17:10–16

The widow made a little cake from her flour and gave it to Elijah.

In those days, Elijah the prophet went to Zarephath. As he arrived at the entrance of the city, a widow was gathering sticks there; he called out to her, “Please bring me a small cupful of water to drink.” She left to get it, and he called out after her, “Please bring along a bit of bread.” She answered, “As the LORD, your God, lives, I have nothing baked; there is only a handful of flour in my jar and a little oil in my jug. Just now I was collecting a couple of sticks, to go in and prepare something for myself and my son; when we have eaten it, we shall die.” Elijah said to her, “Do not be afraid. Go and do as you propose. But first make me a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare something for yourself and your son. For the LORD, the God of Israel, says, ‘The jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, until the day when the LORD sends rain upon the earth.’” She left and did as Elijah had said. She was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well; the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, as the LORD had foretold through Elijah.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 146:7, 8–9, 9–10

R/ Praise the Lord, my soul! or R/ Alleluia.

The LORD keeps faith forever,    secures justice for the oppressed,    gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets captives free.

R/ Praise the Lord, my soul! or R/ Alleluia.

The LORD gives sight to the blind;    the LORD raises up those who were bowed down. The LORD loves the just;    the LORD protects strangers.

R/ Praise the Lord, my soul! or R/ Alleluia.

The fatherless and the widow he sustains,    but the way of the wicked he thwarts. The LORD shall reign forever;    your God, O Zion, through all generations. Alleluia.

R/ Praise the Lord, my soul! or R/ Alleluia.

Second Reading

Hebrews 9:24–28

Christ was offered once to take away the sins of many.

Christ did not enter into a sanctuary made by hands, a copy of the true one, but heaven itself, that he might now appear before God on our behalf. Not that he might offer himself repeatedly, as the high priest enters each year into the sanctuary with blood that is not his own; if that were so, he would have had to suffer repeatedly from the foundation of the world. But now once for all he has appeared at the end of the ages to take away sin by his sacrifice. Just as it is appointed that human beings die once, and after this the judgment, so also Christ, offered once to take away the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to take away sin but to bring salvation to those who eagerly await him.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Alleluia, alleluia.

Either:

Gospel

Mark 12:38–44

This poor widow put in more than all the others.

In the course of his teaching Jesus said to the crowds, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation.”

   He sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Or:

Gospel

Mark 12:41–44

This poor widow put in more than all the others.

Jesus sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[gothamradiokid]

Hallowe'en

From October 31 begins an eve whose end will be on November 2, during these dates we celebrate and remember all the brave whose time stopped

All Saints Day

All Saints' Eve is a feast that began on October 31, ending on November 1 and November 2, the Day of the Dead is celebrated, although these dates were slightly modified by the passage of time; on this page you will be able to know the differences and history of this eve

Now, the tribe of the Celts existed long before Christ, and one of their most famous contributions in the world was Halloween (Samhain) or All Saints' Day, they celebrated it to end the end of summer, what they did was make parties and bring offerings to the dead, since they believed that there were evil spirits, that is why they brought them offerings and human, vegetable and animal sacrifices. Although this was stopped practicing because the Romans did not like so many people dying, with the passage of time Pope Gregory III (731-741) changed his name to All Saints Day, this made the Deltas very happy, this The tradition spread throughout the world and when the Irish immigrated to the United States they were taught legends such as Jack O'o Lantern. As an interesting fact, the legend of Jack 'O Lantern told that he had a turnip embers of fire (since he could not go to heaven or hell, so he seeks his rest alone) but having a surplus of pumpkins in the United States they decided to make them holes and put a candle inside it.

Therefore, referring to something more spiritual that day, in the Christian religion it is necessary to celebrate all the people who reach heaven or paradise as it is known, as it is known in the Christian-Catholic religion, since a saint himself is someone which is pure enough to enter, not just the caconic sates of the Vatican. This eve usually creates a lot of controversy in orthodox believers of Christian Catholic religions or here in Mexico due to the curious translation to "Halloween" this because of the pagan costrumbes of the Celts before the arrival of Christianity and because of the marketing over time .

Solemnity of the Saints

Following the same theme as on October 31, all those people who reached paradise are celebrated, whether they are holy canons of the Vatican or not, but during these dates children who died in a tragic way, violence, accidents without having been baptisms, but in itself the deceased who overcame purgatory and have been sanctified enjoying the presence of God are celebrated.

In the primitive churches each martyr was celebrated on his date of death and place of death but after the persecution of Diocletian, the number of martyrs increased so much that there did not have to be a feast on a common day to celebrate them all, which she was chosen May 13 for the Syrians or the first Sunday after Pentecost according to Saint John Chrysostom. Later, Pope Gregory III (731-741) consecrated a chapel in the Vatican to worship the saints who were previously honored in cemeteries and catacombs that had been left in disuse. This oratory was dedicated "to the Savior, to Saint Mary, to the Apostles, to the martyrs, to the confessors and to all the righteous souls," and it had a choir of monks say a supplementary Office every day in honor of the saints whose birth was every day. From the combination of these traditions with that of the votive masses in memory of many or all the saints, a tradition emerged that was already ingrained by the 8th century, although the date was not always the same. Pope Gregory IV unified it on the first of November.

A ruling that can be presented, in a more theoretical way, is that if the child was not baptized and committed a sin, whether mortal or venial, he could not enter paradise and would wound himself to a place of punishment for his sins, I hear it, although they were good. in life they could never be saints this according to the chaotic-orthodox Christian church

Day of the Dead

This date passes on November 2 and is devoted to people who died in general, although this day has a background and a story that happened with the Mexica, where they celebrated the dead and collect copsehcas, just as the Celts planned it on their own. timepo and region. He would sing to the Christian religion where the behavior of a person in his life is rewarded or punished, for the Mexica there was no such thing, but rather beliefs that the destiny of the bad people would depend on the type of death they had experienced.

The Mexica believed that the afterlife of the deceased could have four destinations Tlalocan or paradise of Tlaloc, god of rain. Omeyocán, paradise of the sun, presided over by Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. Only the killed in combat, the captives who sacrificed themselves, and the women who died in childbirth came to this place.

The dead who went to Omeyocan paradise of the sun, presided over by Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. Only the killed in combat, the captives who sacrificed themselves, and the women who died in childbirth came to this place. The dead who went to the Omeyocan, after four years, returned to the world, turned into birds with beautiful multi-colored feathers. Mictlán, intended for those who died a natural death. This place was inhabited by Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacíhuatl, lord and mistress of death. Chichihuacuauhco, place where the dead children went before their consecration to the water where there was a tree from whose branches milk dripped, so that they would feed. In this way, life will be reborn from death. The road to get to Mictlán was very tortuous and difficult, because to get there the souls had to travel through different places for four years. After this time, the souls arrived at Chicunamictlán, a place where the souls of the dead rested or disappeared.

When the Spanish arrived in America in the 16th century, they brought their own traditional celebrations to commemorate the deceased, where the dead were remembered on All Saints' Day. By converting the natives of the New World, a syncretism was created that mixed European and pre-Hispanic traditions, making the Catholic festivities of All Saints and All Souls coincide with the similar Mesoamerican festival, creating the current Day of the Dead. .

Praise the dead

"Where would we correctly begin the praise of some brave men, who in life made their loved ones glad with their virtue and who have accepted death in exchange for the salvation of the living? I believe that it is necessary to make a praise of a natural order in which they have been brave. They were brave because they were born of brave, We praise, therefore, firstly their nobility of birth and, secondly, their upbringing and education. " -Aspasia

(comic page)

A few years ago in the city of Gotham, there's was a tragedy in the Falcons family, affecting most part of their business of mafia, also a tragic accident for a district attorney Dent... during this event called "The Long HALLOWEEN" where a killer, called the "Holiday Killer" that killed public figures every Holiday no Julian Day, there was different people who we're blame like Alberto Falcons, Catwoman and even more public figures..

This October... unleash all the bats you hide!

[a-godman]

Amen, Lord, may we all come to the meetings of the church with the Christ experienced by us as the surplus to be offered to God! Yes, may there be a rich surplus of Christ flowing out of all the saints in their speaking in the church meetings so that God may be satisfied and Christ may be exhibited! Oh Lord, amen, gain this among us. Recover such a proper church life among us, a church life that is filled with the riches of Christ flowing out of all the saints!

[transformationstuck]

Amalagam Story

Jane was practically sick of trolls at this point. Ever since the entire fiasco had went down, her father gone, and the rise of complaints against her campaign by the majority of the troll population, she wanted them gone from this Earth. It had been a single month since she had deported most of the trolls using small legal constraints to other planets, where they’d continue with their meaningless banter of trying to disobey her. Why, she had been trying her hardest to conform the trolls to her ways, and look where that got her! Nowhere. Frankly, the next time she was going to see a candy corn horn, there was going to be a reckoning.

And yet there was no avoiding it. The twelve initial trolls who had assisted in the beta session remained within the galaxy. Some were taken care of, however discretely. She had devised Nepeta’s ship to crash into one of the deadliest planet to ever live in, and while she expectantly made herself the apex predators against all the face-sucking, marrow-gnawing monstrosities that lived on the planet, she had no way out. Kanaya was permanently disposed off with Rose after an indefinite honeymoon, with a small gift. Perhaps calling it small was the wrong thing, but she sure hoped Rose enjoyed pounding onto her wife like an animal in heat, because that’s practically what those two would be. Both Aradia and Vriska were off the books, considering the former was always missing and off doing something and the latter was currently the leader of the rebellion against her. Terezi and Feferi were far too important people in her campaign to even consider removing their existence, so she would have to simply tolerate them. After all, any legal issues regarding trolls would be pushed by the Pyrope and the former Heiress gave her such political power with her blood color. That left, coincidentally, all the male trolls.

And wasn’t it John’s birthday soon anyways? Might as well prepare him a gift.

——–

The first one was easy. All it took was two drones, a burlap sack, and there was a rather large lump of troll in front of her desk, with two ridiculously large horns protruding out of it.

“I didn’t ask for him to literally bring him to me. Look at the mess he’s making on the carpet! That’s just vacuumed! Get him out of here!”

The drones obeyed, though finding themselves difficulty immediately upon a certain conundrum.

“Tilt him sideways. SIDEWAYS! Why are you rotating him vertically? I meant horizontally! I know the horn is stuck. Just back off, don’t use brute force and…”

CRACK!

As Jane felt a pressure build on her neck, she decided that whenever trolls were involved, so were her migraines.

———

“… What did I tell you about bringing him to me LITERALLY? Again with the carpet? Do you know how difficult honey is to wipe off a carpet? Have you even baked before? Obviously you haven’t baked before, but I’ll do it myself this time. Just… dump him! In the vat! Now shoo!”

———–

“… Just put a sock in his mouth and get it over with.”

———-

“Yoo hoo, handsome. I got a surprise for you~.” The hallway was empty save for a lumbering figure, who seemed rather confused and tilting his head quizically, to the point where his head was rotating in a perpendicular manner. That was most certainly not the way a head should rotate, and the fact that she was wearing nothing but a single sheet of apron was already making her feel more vulnerable.

“Come on, handsome. I know you want it.” She held up a pie, which was green and what she would consider the complete disregard for basic culinary needs. A single whiff was more than enough to make her feel disgusted, and she wondered how anyone could even take a bite off of it.

Still no response, which meant that she had to bring out the big guns. Taking a deep breath, Jane winked, twice, and each wink followed by a short honk.

That did it, as the juggalo basically launched himself, erect cock showing through his stupid codpiece, and Jane found herself wanting to fall for the same mistake of letting the clown in her bedsheet again.

Click.

As Gamzee fell down the trapdoor she had long since set up in case something like this would ever happen, Jane sighed with relief, rubbing her head, and massaging her boob. “God, I actually should get a dick some time soon… And preferably not a clown’s…”

———

“… Excuse me, correct me if I’m hearing this right.”

A rather muscular troll, sweating profusely and smelling like a hung horse and a broken engine sat in front of her desk. The poor furniture was now drenched, and already a dark circle was forming underneath the carpet.

“You want in on this project. After I kidnapped you friends? Condemn them to a horrible experiment that’ll leave their body gone, potentially the mind, and you want in on this?”

A nod. And a sigh from her direction, before she tugged lightly on the rope that was currently binding Equius’s neck.

“You know I was going to disregard you since you were somewhat helpful, right?”

Another nod. Another tug. The troll’s face began to glow bluer by the second, but that deranged smile of him absolutely wanting this behind the leather restraints made her think of all trolls were like this.

Especially when he had been like this for the past three hours.

“I swear, trolls…” She waved to her drones to take him away, but it seemed like the ingredients were complete.

Though she felt like she was forgetting something, she was sure it wasn’t that important if she could remember it.

———

In front of her stood approximately 1000 lb of troll flesh, complete with 5 pairs of horns, 5 pairs of misplaced arms and legs, the most obvious bulges ever, some obviously aroused, and few facial features which she proceeded to shut up. The process was going to be painstakingly simple, as she started to channel the Life into the body.

It hadn’t taken much for her to channel the five into a single blob majorly for safekeeping. She couldn’t risk any of them breaking out and spoiling her plan, so she had made them into what was a large meatball, feeding them all the surplus baked goods until they grew fat and complacent, and practically no traces of bone structure remained from the excessive flesh gained from consumption.

Push, knead. Push, knead. Minute by minute, the flesh began to sink underneath her hands, folding and mixing until gray became pink, round shape forming into more humanoid, a thousand pounds now beginning to dwindle into approximately one tenth of its original weight.

It was then that she called John.

“John.” She said with a quick, snappy tone that immediately informed her ecto-grandson that she meant business. “If you were looking for a relationship, what would you look for in a woman?”

“… What?” A click of her tongue immediately made John regret questioning Jane. There was something about her that intimidated him ever since her campaign began, but still, the question remained. “I mean… Nice, I guess? If you are asking about her personality o-”

“I meant a sexual relationship. Jesus Christ, get on with it!”

“Right, right. So uh… huge boobs.” Silence from her end was interpreted as a signal to continue as she proceeded to knead whatever was left over into a round shape, over the currently very flat chest with little to no definition. “I mean, some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers, packing some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabankl-”

“John!”

“Right… Uh… Big ol’ tonhongerekoogers.” With that, John paused, and added, “And some thighs please. I like them thick.”

———–

It wasn’t long before Jane was done, staring at her masterpiece she had taken three hours of pure Life to create. An hourglass figure, melon-sized titties, and the very definition of thunder thighs. It wasn’t long before they started moving, which, at that point, she wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One moment they had been lying down unconscious, the next thing, they were, and each limbs proceeded to move completely independent of each other. It wasn’t until she stuffed the horse-dildo in their seemingly very aroused entrance with rough force did they proceed to break out of her lab through sheer willpower.

It wasn’t long before she found her, though not directly. She had left her be for now, and it seemed that, as intended, John had found her first.

The various names mixed together had mistakenly led John to believe she was named “Etiquette.” Though a strange name, she had come a long way from being five different trolls to one hot little body. Sure, disjointed complaints and moans of pleasure occasionally seemed to confuse John, as well as her habit of talking to herself, but once she got in bed, he had no complaints. Sometimes she demanded a larger dildo stuffed down her ass. Sometimes she wanted to do nothing but videogames. Sometimes she started honking like a clown as she rode John cowgirl style, which obviously terrified John as much as it aroused him. It did leave Jane to wonder if they all shared an internal voice, or argued over what to do next, seizing control or each other? Or perhaps they got adapted to controlling their body in a uniform style? Or perhaps all of their personality got melded into one. Jane could potentially find out, but decided against it. As she closed the feed of John pounding Etiquette to the next pleasure-town, the way her fingers and toes twitched, her arms and legs occasionally moving as opposed to how she was acting, she knew that at the very least she got rid of an eyesore.

[troybeecham]

Today the Church remembers St. John Chrysostom (c. AD 349 – 14 September 407), Archbishop of Constantinople, Early Church Father.

Ora pro nobis.

He is known for his preaching and public speaking, his denunciation of abuse of authority by both ecclesiastical and political leaders, the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom, and his ascetic sensibilities. The epithet Chrysostomos means "golden-mouthed" in Greek and denotes his celebrated eloquence. Chrysostom was among the most prolific authors in the early Christian Church, exceeded only by Augustine of Hippo in the quantity of his surviving writings.

John was born in Antioch in AD 349 to Greek parents from Syria. Different scholars describe his mother Anthusa as a pagan or as a Christian, and his father was a high-ranking military officer. John's father died soon after his birth and he was raised by his mother. He was baptised in AD 368 or 373 and tonsured as a reader (one of the minor orders of the Church).

As a result of his mother's influential connections in the city, John began his education under the pagan teacher Libanius. From Libanius, John acquired the skills for a career in rhetoric, as well as a love of the Greek language and literature.

As he grew older, however, John became more deeply committed to Christianity and went on to study theology under Diodore of Tarsus, founder of the re-constituted School of Antioch. According to the Christian historian Sozomen, Libanius was supposed to have said on his deathbed that John would have been his successor "if the Christians had not taken him from us".

John lived in extreme asceticism and became a hermit in about AD 375; he spent the next two years continually standing, scarcely sleeping, and committing the Bible to memory. As a consequence of these practices, his stomach and kidneys were permanently damaged and poor health forced him to return to Antioch.

John was ordained as a deacon in AD 381 by Saint Meletius of Antioch who was not then in communion with Alexandria and Rome. After the death of Meletius, John separated himself from the followers of Meletius, without joining Paulinus, the rival of Meletius for the bishopric of Antioch. But after the death of Paulinus he was ordained a presbyter (priest) in AD 386 by Evagrius, the successor of Paulinus.He was destined later to bring about reconciliation between Flavian I of Antioch, Alexandria, and Rome, thus bringing those three sees into communion for the first time in nearly seventy years.

In Antioch, over the course of twelve years (386–397), John gained popularity because of the eloquence of his public speaking at the Golden Church, Antioch's cathedral, especially his insightful expositions of Bible passages and moral teaching. The most valuable of his works from this period are his Homilies on various books of the Bible. He emphasised charitable giving and was concerned with the spiritual and temporal needs of the poor. He spoke against abuse of wealth and personal property:

“Do you wish to honour the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: "This is my body" is the same who said: "You saw me hungry and you gave me no food", and "Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me"... What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start by satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.”

His straightforward understanding of the Scriptures – in contrast to the Alexandrian tendency towards allegorical interpretation – meant that the themes of his talks were practical, explaining the Bible's application to everyday life. Such straightforward preaching helped Chrysostom to garner popular support. He founded a series of hospitals in Constantinople to care for the poor.

One incident that happened during his service in Antioch illustrates the influence of his homilies. When Chrysostom arrived in Antioch, Flavian, the bishop of the city, had to intervene with Emperor Theodosius I on behalf of citizens who had gone on a rampage mutilating statues of the Emperor and his family. During the weeks of Lent in AD 387, John preached more than twenty homilies in which he entreated the people to see the error of their ways. These made a lasting impression on the general population of the city: many pagans converted to Christianity as a result of the homilies. As a result, Theodosius' vengeance was not as severe as it might have been.

In the autumn of AD 397, John was appointed Archbishop of Constantinople, after having been nominated without his knowledge by the eunuch Eutropius. He had to leave Antioch in secret due to fears that the departure of such a popular figure would cause civil unrest. During his time as Archbishop he adamantly refused to host lavish social gatherings, which made him popular with the common people, but unpopular with wealthy citizens and the clergy. His reforms of the clergy were also unpopular. He told visiting regional preachers to return to the churches they were meant to be serving—without any payout.

His time in Constantinople was more tumultuous than his time in Antioch. Theophilus, the Patriarch of Alexandria, wanted to bring Constantinople under his sway and opposed John's appointment to Constantinople. Theophilus had disciplined four Egyptian monks (known as "the Tall Brothers") over their support of Origen's teachings. They fled to John and were welcomed by him. Theophilus therefore accused John of being too partial to the teaching of Origen. He made another enemy in Aelia Eudoxia, wife of Emperor Arcadius, who assumed that John's denunciations of extravagance in feminine dress were aimed at her. Eudoxia, Theophilus and other of his enemies held a synod in AD 403 (the Synod of the Oak) to charge John, in which his connection to Origen was used against him. It resulted in his deposition and banishment. He was called back by Arcadius almost immediately, as the people became "tumultuous" over his departure, even threatening to burn the royal palace. There was an earthquake the night of his arrest, which Eudoxia took for a sign of God's anger, prompting her to ask Arcadius for John's reinstatement.

Peace was short-lived. A silver statue of Eudoxia was erected in the Augustaion, near his cathedral. John denounced the dedication ceremonies as pagan and spoke against the Empress in harsh terms:

"Again Herodias raves; again she is troubled; she dances again; and again desires to receive John's head in a charger", an allusion to the events surrounding the death of John the Baptist. Once again he was banished, this time to the Caucasus in Abkhazia. Around AD 405, John began to lend moral and financial support to Christian monks who were enforcing the emperors' anti-Pagan laws, by destroying temples and shrines in Phoenicia and nearby regions.

The causes of John's exile are not clear, though Jennifer Barry suggests that they have to do with his connections to Arianism. Other historians, including Wendy Mayer and Geoffrey Dunn, have argued that "the surplus of evidence reveals a struggle between Johannite and anti-Johannite camps in Constantinople soon after John's departure and for a few years after his death". Faced with exile, John Chrysostom wrote an appeal for help to three churchmen: Pope Innocent I, Venerius the Bishop of Milan, and the third to Chromatius, the Bishop of Aquileia.

In 1872, church historian William Stephens wrote:

The Patriarch of the Eastern Rome appeals to the great bishops of the West, as the champions of an ecclesiastical discipline which he confesses himself unable to enforce, or to see any prospect of establishing. No jealousy is entertained of the Patriarch of the Old Rome by the Patriarch of the New Rome. The interference of Innocent is courted, a certain primacy is accorded him, but at the same time he is not addressed as a supreme arbitrator; assistance and sympathy are solicited from him as from an elder brother, and two other prelates of Italy are joint recipients with him of the appeal.

Pope Innocent I protested John's banishment from Constantinople to the town of Cucusus in Cappadocia, but to no avail. Innocent sent a delegation to intercede on behalf of John in AD 405. It was led by Gaudentius of Brescia; Gaudentius and his companions, two bishops, encountered many difficulties and never reached their goal of entering Constantinople.

John wrote letters which still held great influence in Constantinople. As a result of this, he was further exiled from Cucusus (where he stayed from 404 to 407) to Pitiunt (Pityus) (in modern Georgia) where his tomb is a shrine for pilgrims. He never reached this destination, as he died at Comana Pontica on AD 14 September 407 during the journey. His last words are said to have been "δόξα τῷ θεῷ πάντων ἕνεκεν" (Glory be to God for all things).

John came to be venerated as a saint soon after his death. Almost immediately after, an anonymous supporter of John (known as pseudo-Martyrius) wrote a funeral oration to reclaim John as a symbol of Christian orthodoxy. But three decades later, some of his adherents in Constantinople remained in schism. Saint Proclus, Patriarch of Constantinople (AD 434–446), hoping to bring about the reconciliation of the Johannites, preached a homily praising his predecessor in the Church of Hagia Sophia. He said, "O John, your life was filled with sorrow, but your death was glorious. Your grave is blessed and reward is great, by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ O graced one, having conquered the bounds of time and place! Love has conquered space, unforgetting memory has annihilated the limits, and place does not hinder the miracles of the saint."

These homilies helped to mobilize public opinion, and the patriarch received permission from the emperor to return Chrysostom's relics to Constantinople, where they were enshrined in the Church of the Holy Apostles on AD 28 January 438. The Eastern Orthodox Church commemorates him as a "Great Ecumenical Teacher", with Basil the Great and Gregory the Theologian. These three saints, in addition to having their own individual commemorations throughout the year, are commemorated together on 30 January, a feast known as the Synaxis of the Three Hierarchs.

O God, you gave your servant John Chrysostom grace eloquently to proclaim your righteousness in the great congregation, and fearlessly to bear reproach for the honor of your Name: Mercifully grant to all bishops and pastors such excellence in preaching, and faithfulness in ministering your Word, that your people may be partakers with them of the glory that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

[walkswithmyfather]

[“Love like that”—Devotional by Les Parrott@Proverbs 31 Ministries]

“Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that.” Ephesians 5:2 (MSG)

“I’m not a softhearted poet. I’m not a people-pleasing idealist. I live with full-throttle ambition and no shortage of self-interest. I’m impatient and sometimes insecure. I jockey for position, and I like exclusive privileges. I can be judgmental, insensitive, petty and resentful. Oh, and I can be cheap and stingy.

But I want to love like Jesus.

Why? Because I know it’s the best way to live. When we love like Jesus, we’re lifted outside ourselves. We shed self-interest — with our spouse, our kids, friends, everyone. His brand of love sees beyond the normal range of human vision — over walls of resentment and barriers of betrayal. When we love like Jesus, we rise above petty demands and snobbish entitlement. We loosen our tightfisted anxiety and relax in a surplus of benevolence.

Most of all, the Jesus model of love inspires us in following the best way to live, “the most excellent way” (1 Corinthians 12:31b, NIV).

I want to love like that.

But can anyone really love like Jesus? After all, He raised the bar of love to extraordinary heights. Love your enemies? Walk the extra mile? Turn the other cheek? Seriously? This is love beyond reason, isn’t it?

Of course. And that’s the point.

To love like Jesus, we need to think and feel. We need reason and emotion. Both head and heart, working together. It’s the only way to bring perfect love into our imperfect lives.

Here’s the truth: When you open your heart, love changes your mind. Let that sentence soak in. Your mind can do an about-face and be transformed when it receives a divine impulse from your heart. You’ll experience a revolution in your thinking when you allow your heart to enter the conversation. It’s what Paul was getting at when he said, “You’ll be changed from the inside out” (Romans 12:1b, MSG).

If you’re seeking a reasonable love, you’ll miss out on an extraordinary love — that’s not cautious but extravagant. You’ll miss out on the power to find a love you didn’t know you had.

I’ve been on a long quest to know how the Ideal Model of Love could rub off on my imperfect life. And here’s what I’ve learned: Loving like Jesus is more obtainable than you might imagine. His teaching and example reveal at least five distinct and practical qualities of His love:

If you want to love like Jesus, you’ve got to …

become more mindful — less detached;

become more approachable — less exclusive;

become more graceful — less judgmental;

become more bold — less fearful;

become more self-giving — less self-absorbed.

Is this an exhaustive list of how Jesus loved? Of course not. But it’s a way to get an earthly handle on this heavenly ideal of love. Time and again, Jesus demonstrated these five qualities and spoke about them, not as unreachable ideals. These are doable.

Today’s key verse reminds us: “Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that” (Ephesians 5:2).

I’m optimistic about getting better at loving like Jesus. Why? Because this love isn’t illusive. It isn’t pie-in-the-sky. It isn’t out-of-reach nor relegated to untouchable saints. It’s real. Jesus gives us practical steps to love in extraordinary ways. He calls us to embody these five qualities. Are they difficult? You bet. But not insurmountable. Will you and I fail in living them out? Absolutely. But don’t be discouraged. For it’s in our failed attempts that we learn to better travel the most excellent way.

Lord, I want to love like Jesus. I want to love without being cautious or in order to get something. Help me give myself to others. Fill me with Your Spirit every moment of every day to love like that. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”

TRUTH FOR TODAY

John 13:34, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (NIV)

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

... Where’s Your Heart?

A cold midnight makes for an even colder Harry, and y/n doesn’t know how to process anything over the sickening sound of her heart shattering into pieces, because Harry isn’t in love with y/n anymore.

Angst / 3.8k words

A/N: lots of cliche angst, lord give me strength. feedback is always appreciated. happy reading! x

It’s hours past midnight when she’s still waiting up for him, and somehow, when her fingers reach for the left side of the bed, they come back empty after tracing over perfectly smooth sheets. She sighs sadly: he’s not home, but when is he ever?

Y/N had spent the day trying to fill in the empty cave in her heart, trying to stop the raw aching from weeks of waking up to find him gone and feeling his presence only when she was unconscious. Ever since Harry had come back from his tour, he’d been so distant. Y/N wasn’t sure where her Harry was.

“Hi,” she had squealed, jumping up at the airport as soon as her searching eyes landed on a head full of curls, followed by the shocking green eyes that struck her with lightning every single time she made contact with them. Without fail, her heart skipped three beats. That familiar swooping sensation in her stomach followed, and she found herself releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding all this time.

He walked into the airport, security surrounding him. Y/N was near certain her heart was glowing.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” she mumbled, right after leaping into his arms, him tensing as his hands hovered above her lower back uncertainly.

Y/N breathed in his strong scent- pine and sandalwood and intoxicating Tom Ford. Her voice was muffled into the skin of his warm neck, where she telled him she loved him and recounted how much she’d missed him while he was out on tour for months.

“We’re in public,” he’d hissed, Y/N smiling at first, because she thought he was being playful. Then, he’d pulled her out of where she’d been clinging to him, and the blank, cold stare he’d seriously given her had caused the smile on her face to drop instantaneously, falling with her face.

“Christ, Y/N, give me some space.”

“S-Sorry,” she’d shuffled back a few steps, hesitating on what to do and, yes, shoving down her prickling hurt deep inside of her and locking it up. She plastered a bright smile onto her face, avoiding the cameras and trying to keep up with his fast, long legs.

His harsh words echoed in her mind the entire drive home, as he refused to speak more than two words to her.

What had she done wrong?

The days after his arrival were spent with Y/N trying desperately to make some contact with Harry— sitting beside him while he watched Netflix, trying to catch him eating so she could join him after refraining from doing so before he got home, or something as simple as bringing in her own coursework and hoping to enjoy the quiet intimacy of working together in the same proximity.

However, Harry would simply roll his eyes or tense whenever she would make attempts to do so, walking out of whatever room they were in in complete silence. There were nights he wouldn’t come back to bed, opting instead for the guest room or couch. In the morning, he’d head off without a note or anything to some celebrity’s house. She’d find out from the tabloids instead of his word of mouth.

And fuck, it sounds selfish and needy, but the first few days she’d been anticipating the sex after long months of not seeing each other. But he wouldn’t even touch her, and that hurt, to see him move away as if she’d burned him if she cuddled close to him as she grew sleepy or had attempted to kiss his cheek.

She had thought it would blow over, but it hasn’t. And when he finally has sex with her, its perfect and warm and safe. But the next morning, it’s cold and she’s alone all over again. And the next time is worse. it’s angry and rough and clearly entirely for him, and she has to bite back a saddened frown and suppress the strong emotion in her throat as she laid there.

She’d wanted to make love and he’d fucked her.

Afterwards, he’d pulled out of her after he’d reached his high, fallen back onto his side of the mattress while gasping for air, and he’d quickly fallen asleep. y/n tried not to think too much about how he hadn’t even bothered to notice she hadn’t reached her own orgasm. blinking back tears, she’d walked to the washroom unsteadily. she had used a towel to gently remove his excitement from all over her, and had made sure to shower to make sure she was clean.

The morning after, she woke up to his half of the bed empty, like always. He was probably meeting up with friends and people she’d never even heard of, people who were the catalyst to a plethora of insecurities that churned inside of Y/N. Insecurities reminding her that she wasn’t as reknowned as they were. That maybe she couldn’t give him what he needed. The longer she had time to think about it, the less sense their relationship made. When these worries has first become visible early on in their relationship, Harry had been quick to shut them down— told her “don’t think about it, baby. it’s only me and you. me and you.”

Now, he wasn’t here. And Y/N had enough time to remember every article that had pointed out many facts. Including the one that hit home most. How she couldn’t really give him anything substantial. Whether it be fame or money or anything that seemed to mean something. Instead, she brought on a surplus of hate and bitterness at meet and greets and triggered mobs by the paparazzi, yelling the usual questions of why Harry was with a girl that only weighed him down. She saw his shoulders go from relaxed to tense, slowly over time. She couldn’t help wonder if he was coming to the realization that she really couldn’t give him anything.

Blinking back tears, Y/N iced the two tiered chocolate cake she’d spent ages making while waiting for Harry. She knew he hated normal icing, spooning over the overly sugary substance until it had evenly fallen off of the cake. However, this was hand crafted whipped cream and she knew he didn’t mind that, so she’d made it, even though it took a little longer and made her wrists ache from all of the mixing. Shredding some strawberries over the blank whipped cream, she smiled a small smile as a heart formed on top of the cake. She sprinkled it with crumbled graham crackers and brought out the vanilla ice cream from the fridge, knowing he liked to eat cool ice cream with hot, freshly baked cake. She had claimed it was weird until he had gasped and coaxed her into taking a bite. Y/N silently hoped he would come home soon, pushing back the fear that he wouldn’t at all.

Biting back a yawn, Y/N looked over at the clock, which read 3 A.M. in bright red. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer, she thought, stubbornly. Excitement and hope bubbles in her stomach, along with a little nausea she attributed to staying up this late and overthinking until she’d driven herself to stress bake. Maybe this would make him happy. Maybe he’d finally become hers again. As another yawn exited Y/N’s mouth, her shoulders dropping with fatigue, she shook herself and walked over to the sink, splashing her face with some water.

“Why am I so tired?” she muttered in annoyance, thinking back to how the past few weeks had been spent with her waking quite late and sleeping earlier and more frequently throughout the day. Y/N couldn’t even complete ordinary tasks without growing breathless, and moving too fast caused her head to spin until she slowed down.

Click

The familiar sound of the doorknob jiggling and keys jingling from outside of the door caused Y/N’s stomach to swoop, and her heart to soar. She could recognize those footsteps from miles away. He was home.

Quickly jogging over to flick the light switch, Y/N fought back a grin as she waited in the silence, a giggle slipping from her lips at the spontaneity and slight creepiness of it all. She flattened the little black, low cut dress she’d thrown on over her thighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. and waiting.

He swung the door open, immediately taking off his shoes and hanging his coat up on the rack near the entrance. He cleared his throat, a strange smell crawling into the flat upon his arrival that had Y/N inching away from him, trying to stop the bile rising up her throat. Alcohol, she thought grimly, her smile fading away to confusion. Why?

“Surprise!”

“Christ,” Harry hissed lowly as she exclaimed joyfully, flicking on the lights. He shields his squinted eyes from the sudden brightness.

“Since we haven’t properly celebrated you coming home from your tour, I thought we could tonight,” y/n beams, pulling up a chair for Harry at the candle lit table before beginning to balance the cake stand in her arms, carrying it over to him gingerly. “I’m so proud of you, Haz,” she expressed softly, looking at him with all the admiration in the world. “I always knew you could do it, and you did. I love you.”

Harry acknowledges y/n with a cold, blank stare. as she nears him, her bright smile is suddenly too blinding. Too much.

“I know you like chocolate cake with ice cream, so I made that! I figured we’d eat it first, because dessert is obviously better than anything else. And then afterwards there’s steak and spaghetti and a bunch of other stuff, because I know you must be hungry and it’s no fun to eat out after months of doing so,” she pouted sympathetically at him, recalling him facetiming her back when he used to, whining of how he missed eating food that had been prepared ‘from the heart’ instead of some automated machine. “And I even got that champagne you like from the—“

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well that’s not true,” Y/N argued, waving him away with her carefree expression. “You’ve been out all day, Harry. You need to eat, ‘s not good for—“

“I ate out.”

His responses were bleak, short. Distant.

“You’re always hungry, Harry. And fast food doesn’t fill you, anyway. And I made your favourite. There’s even brownies and muffins. Remember that time in Italy when—“

The sight of the nearing two tier cake finally forces him to crack.

“Y/N, give me a break,” Harry’s voice rises with every word, arm subconsciously pushing out to where the cake stood, causing it to crumble slightly before the shock of it all caused the platter to slip from y/n’s trembling fingers. “I said I wasn’t. fucking. hungry,” he snarls, darkening green eyes so mean, confronting, and unfamiliar— his gaze so bitter.

She flinches back from him, as if her feet are trying desperately to increase the distance between him and her.

“If I can’t have anything else, at least let me have my health. How am I supposed to maintain my health when you keep giving me all of this damn food?”

Huffing a frustrated breath, Harry’s fingers pulled at the roots of his hair in pure anger. “You need to quit it,” he snaps harshly. “Look at me, Y/N!”

Startled, she looks up at him, immediately regretting it and wishing she could erase the pure rage from her memory. He’s trying to control himself, but is failing miserably. His attempts at ‘clearly’ creating some much needed distance are harsh.

“You need to quit meddling with everything in my life. You need to understand: I need some damn space. Please.”

He wasn’t saying anything about her, and was attempting to go back to his cool, resolved self, but that was even worse. His cool restraint meant distance, meant quiet, meant emptiness. It meant no care.

Compulsively accommodating, she apologizes for her hours of labor, her chocolate-chip banana muffins, her walnut fudge brownies. Keeping her eyes trained anywhere but into his, she moves his plate to the sink. Then, she retreats into their bedroom, trying to block the noises of him sighing exasperatedly while rubbing at the burning wetness in her irises.

Sniffling slightly, y/n turns on the shower after walking into their shared washroom. Locks the door, and peels off the dress before standing still underneath the water, shoulders shaking as a desperate kind of pain weighs itself inside of her chest, tears falling with the scalding hot water. She holds the sounds of her cries and tries to focus on the sight of hours of carefully applied makeup washing down the drain.

It wasn’t even what he’d said, if Y/N was being completely honest with herself. He had had an outburst, much like anyone else would, because she had been pushing too far, not listening to what he had to say. Harry wasn’t hungry, he’d clearly eaten, and she was bothering him over something like food. He hadn’t even said anything to her. Had only inadvertently told her to back off. That he’s had enough.

It was more this distance she had been trying so hard to bridge between them. What had happened? They were so happy. The days where they’d danced easy like one-two-three and kitchens were like ballrooms seemed so far away. The first date, the butterflies, the emotional devotion seemed so faraway. He was so faraway...

She had been so stupid. Some candles, a dress, make-up, lingerie, and some giant cake couldn’t salvage a dying relationship.

“Oh my God,” her fingers fell against her lips shakily as the sob unwillingly exited her traitorous mouth. Her sad eyes widen with the realization. “It’s dying. We’re dying.”

Harry isn’t in love with her anymore.

It’s obvious. How could she have been so blind? Or maybe she’s known along, and has been running from the bitter truth.

The thought is so sickening, she finds herself bent over on her knees, gagging aggressively before the bile finally burns its way uncomfortably out of her, down the shower drain, leaving a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Sobs fall from her lips as she wipes her mouth pathetically, her free arm clutching her sensitive, throbbing abdomen.

When she finally finishes getting dressed- in his shirt, because it felt like goodbye and she still needed him, if only for tonight, Y/N finds him sprawled on his side of the bed, fast asleep. I’ve spent a long time in there, she thinks to herself, unable to keep herself from smiling a sad smile. Quietly, she nears him, emotion clogging her throat once again as she realizes this is the closest she’s been to him in weeks.

Sitting at the edge of bed, she hesitantly nears her fingers to the slant of his cheek, before resting them on the skin, gently. He leans into her touch, unconsciously, and she can’t suppress the longing in her chest. The heartache. How he looks so peaceful when he’s fast asleep, how she feels him breathe and it regulates her own heartbeat. The moon shines a ray on his handsome face, his cherry lips in a slight pout, his eyebrows furrow in his sleep as a few stray curls lay over his face. y/n strokes her fingers over his forehead, rubbing away the worry and smoothing over the curls. She leans downwards, biting her lip slightly as emotion flashes in her eyes.

“My Harry,” she whispers. “Mine.”

And she knows she has to do what makes him happy, or it’ll end up breaking the two of them, in the end. Even if it tears her apart. I’m not what makes him happy, she thinks to herself, not anymore. From the hate from the public, the months away from each other, and the miscommunication; their relationship was going to eventually take an ugly turn. Her eyes widen as a tear traveling down her face splashes down warmly onto his cheek. Y/N rubs it away, pressing her lips to the area featherlight, but heavy with love.

“Where’s your heart?”

The softly muttered question is heartbreakingly tragic as y/n recounts their relationship and how it had ended like this, with his heart so icy and distant. So far away that she couldn’t feel it anymore. couldn’t feel anything, but the pain. So much pain. Like she was bleeding, the organ in her own chest draining to nothingness.

“Hummingbird,” he had cooed, plastering his face closer to her, ear pressed against her chest and arms slung around her hips. He opened his eyes briefly, staring up at her with all the brightness and adoration in them. He tapped his finger against where her heart beated, smirking at her sudden sharp intake of breath. “‘S sounds like a hummingbird. So soft n’ lovely and pretty.”

“It’s not a hummingbird, Harry,” she had tried to scoff as the hummingbird in her chest burned and electrified to the point where she thought it was glowing and it was obvious. He simply shook his head stubbornly, flopping his head of curls to her neck, warm lips positioned at her chest. “My hummingbird.”

“I love you,” she whimpers. “You’re the only boy I’ve ever been in love with, and I need you to know that, just like I need to do this. Before it ends us both.”

Though if Y/N Y/L/N is certain of one thing, it’s how much she is infallibly in love with Harry Styles. But what they have between them right now, that isn’t love. Yes, love is work. However, the work must be two-sided. y/n was raised to give herself until she was drained. but if he does not reciprocate, it isn’t love. Contrary to popular belief, love isn’t pouring gasoline down the drain, hoping the sparks you felt might light a fire that keeps you warm. Love is coming in, out of the cold. knowing he was already there with a cup of hot chocolate and his rom-coms and back massages.

Whatever this was between them couldn’t possibly be love. And it would rear its ugly head and end them, eventually. Inevitably.

And so, quietly, Y/N reaches down to kiss Harry, one last time. Savouring the moments he was still hers. Pulling back quickly enough so not to stir him, but he unconsciously whines and his fingers latch onto her wrist, pulling her to him. she tore her eyes away from him, staring up at the ceiling wetly with her lips pursed for a few seconds spent collecting herself. trying not to think of how the boy was in love with was as distant as the sun. Then, she pulled her wrist out of his hold, before quickly and silently beginning to collect her belongings and leave what hurt too much to take behind along with him. Knowing Harry, he was too deep in his sleep to notice.

Forty-five minutes later, she was done packing. With trembling lips, her shoulders heaved and nausea coiled in her stomach as she pulled the simple band of silver from around her index finger off, staring at the small, glimmering diamond at the center and the engraved words ‘me and you’ at the inner ring. y/n opened his fist to reveal his palm, placed the ring carefully onto the expanse, and then closed his long fingers over it.

“Bye, H,” she sniffles, wrapping her jacket together around herself, otherwise clad in his t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “I hope... I hope you’re happier after this. I’ll stay away.”

Hope you can find your heart. I made it go away.

She left when the sun began to rise, deciding to crash at a hotel before she figured things out. Besides, it would help to have somewhere to stay when her stomach was doing that thing again that triggered her gagging reflex.

With the events of the past few weeks weighing in on her with her own doubts and her body’s unexplainable daily exhaustion, y/n couldn’t say she was surprised when her Uber Driver’s face was hazy and panicked as he looked over her—

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Would you like some water—“

“I’m fi—“

Before she could finish the sentence, her body slumped over, splayed all over the car’s leather seats. Her last few moments were spent trying to recall if she’d drank or eaten anything drugged from the driver and thinking of Harry. And that’s when everything grew darker and blurrier, slowly, then all at once.

*

Y/N woke with a gasp, her senses evaded by the scent of sanitizer and rubbing alcohol. Her back was stiff from laying on the slim bed, her hair a tangled mess and her body clad in a small, thin gown she detested, because it made her feel stark naked everytime.

The hospital.

Panic grew inside of her as she sat up quickly, looking around and finding herself in a room with the curtains around her. Some shuffling at her side caused her to jump, before she realized it was a nurse.

“Oh! You’re awake,” her voice was kind, eyes calm and soothing. Y/N relaxed a little at her facial expression, although she was still caught off guard.

“Why am I here? I don’t remember... Oh God, i wasn’t raped, right?” She choked on her own breath, fighting a shudder. “My Uber driver.. I fainted in the car, I don’t know why—“

“No, no,” the nurse waved her off, gesturing to the machines connected to y/n, seemingly filling her up with fluids. “It’s nothing like that. Your driver brought you here, himself. Looks like your blood sugar was just low, and you were dehydrated. The doctor will discuss everything with you shortly.”

The nurse shot her a smile before exiting the room with a clipboard to her chest.

“I don’t want to be here,” y/n whispered to herself, wishing Harry was here, in this moment. To make it better. He wasn’t. And he shouldn’t be, she thought to herself.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” the curtains were drawn back by a woman in a lab coat. “I’m your doctor, today.”

“Hi.. I don’t understand. Can I go now? It was just low blood sugar, right?”

“Yes, you will be discharged, but there is more,” the doctor said, noticing y/n’s distraught expression before quickly adding in: “nothing bad, of course. Just a little.. surprising?”

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, squirming a little back onto the headboard as nausea spun its way into her stomach.

“While you were unconscious, we ran a few tests on you per protocol, and they came back with some results,” the doctor sat herself closer to y/n, smiling brightly while taking a pause. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

Y/N Y/L/N promptly hunched over, opened her mouth, and ejected her vomit all over the hospital bed.

“What?”

MASTERLIST| Requests are open!

A/N: there will be a part two.

[cipzi-shoppp]

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[writingsbychlo]

Sniffles and Sore Throats | Diego Hargreeves

Author: @writingsbychlo

Word Count: 3542

Notes: So, obviously I took inspiration from my own being incredibly ill, and turned it into an absolute fluff-fest for you all. I hope you love it, @mf-despair-queen did and she doesn’t even read for Diego, sooooo...

Warnings: None!

You had been absolutely fine when you’d woken up that morning. In fact, you had been better than fine. You had been great. Having made plans for lunch with your friend, you’d showered, sung your heart out while getting ready and doing your makeup, and put on a cute summer outfit, because you were feeling good - without even a sneeze, a sniffle or a microscopic itch in your throat that could cause a cough.

None of it.

And yet, twenty minutes after getting back in from the day, you’d sneezed. Brushing it off as pollen, you’d moved on. Forty minutes after getting back, your throat was slightly sore when you swallowed and you wanted to cough. An hour after getting back, your nose was streaming.

Now, laying on your couch at almost nine o’clock in the evening, you were uncomfortably sweating but cold, clammy, and irritated at the same time. Your nose was red from all the rubbing and tissues, sore and blocked no matter how many times you blew it. Your throat was sore and aching, no matter how many hot drinks infused with honey or lemon you sipped on, and your head was pounding.

Your eyes felt like they were being pushed from your skull and any time you stood up, you felt like your body was being dragged into the ground, as if gravity had somehow gotten infinitely stronger, your feet barely even able to move. With a huff, you shut off the tv, rubbing at your temples and thanking whatever deities may be watching that you didn’t have a headache. Not yet, anyway.

“Touch wood," You muttered, banging your fingers gently against the coffee table beside you, and trying to suppress the violent cough you could feel bubbling up inside of your lungs, knowing it would only worsen your situation drastically. When the door opened, shuffling being heard in the corridor as Diego kicked off his shoes, you rolled over, burying your face in the cushions of the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin.

Mumbling a barely audible response to his greeting, you listened as he walked around the apartment, instinctually checking all of the locks and seals on the doors and windows, as he always did. “Hey baby, how did lunch go?” His tone was far too positive for you, and he reached out to you, a hand on your shoulder as he rolled you over lightly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead before recoiling slightly, eyebrows raised. “Christ, baby, you look awful. What happened?”

Putting down the plastic bag in his hands, he sat beside you, tugging you up reluctantly by one of your hands as his palm found your forehead, before settling on your cheek, thumb running over your skin soothingly. “M’ sick.” You muttered, wishing just to collapse back into your pile of blankets, but Diego had a different idea as he kept you upright, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Holding both of your hands, he pulled you limply to your feet, and your knees buckled slightly as he scooped you up, grabbing the plastic bag as he went and holding you gently, your head lolling onto his shoulder as you gripped his arm lightly, giving his bicep the best squeeze you could, in acknowledgment.

Navigating gently through your shared apartment, he placed you down on the large bathroom counter beside the sink, a sigh leaving your lips as the cool marble met your legs, goosebumps running over your skin as you shivered.

“You want my hoodie?” He tugged the item over his head, handing it to you but you shook your head, just letting it sit on your lap as your eyes closed. Leaning back against the wall, you let out a sigh as your skin met the cold plaster, his eyes watching you as his lips curled up in a slight smile. “Nice and cool?”

“Mhm, lovely.” Opening the plastic bag, he pulled out several cardboard boxes, a sad smile rising to your lips as you shuffled on the counter. “You brought chinese? M’ sorry.” The words left your mouth and he stopped opening boxes, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at you, lips pursed.

“What, for getting sick? Not your fault, baby. Just means you should have the whole carton of chicken noodles and dumplings, instead. I’ll have your rice.” You’re heart swelled as he smiled, pressing a kiss to your clammy forehead. Leaving the boxes open for steam to escape, he turned on the taps of the bath, plugging it and letting the water splash against the basin, filling it rapidly.

Crouching before you, he looped his fingers into the elastics of your fluffy socks, pulling them from your foot and dropping it into the laundry hamper, switching to the other moments later and doing the same. With hands on your waist, he lifted you to the ground gently, tugging the oversized t-shirt up and off of your arms, a huff leaving his lips as he pouted at you.

“Now you should be sorry. I can’t believe you’re wearing my favourite underwear and you’re too sick to fuck," He joked, and you weakly shoved at his chest, shaking your head with a soft grin.

“Was planning on us having more fun tonight when I put them on this morning. This was not how I anticipated the day going,” You whined, and he simply grinned at you, fingers of one hand spreading out over your hip as the others danced up to the clasp. He leaned in, lips by your ear as he growled lightly, undoing the clasp as the support came loose.

“Maybe next time.” His breath fanned over your skin and you shivered, letting him pull back and remove the item, dropping to his knees before you as your hands landed on his shoulders to balance yourself, letting him tug the matching panties away, leaving you exposed as you waved your arms, shaking the stress and stuffiness from your body.

Stepping away, he swirled a hand through the bath water, deeming it ready and warm, before taking a bottle from the rack and unscrewing the top to sniff at the contents inside. Spilling a generous amount of the liquid into the tub, he put it back in it’s correct place on the shelf, swirling the water until the room filled with the scent of lavender and honey, bubbles rising in surplus from the water’s surface.

Standing, he rooted around in the cabinet, pulling a small brown bottle from inside and releasing a few cautious drops into the mix, before putting it on the counter for later. “The olbas oil and the steam will really clear up your airways.” He confirmed, holding a hand out to you and helping you step into the water, watching as you took a seat and stretched your legs out. Rolling your head from side to side, you enjoyed the tension leaving your muscles at the exposure to heat.

Removing your hands from beneath the water, you sat up slightly, shaking your hands dryer of loose droplets and accepting the box Diego was handing you, and the pair of chopsticks. The food was still very hot, but it didn’t burn you to hold, and it wouldn’t be too hot as you ate it, and the thought crossed your mind that it may have been an accident, or did Diego just know to let it cool this much to help you? Either way, he was still giving his all, laying his own food on the edge of the bathtub, placing the other boxes around you both but within reach. 

Unclipping the fastens on his harness, the heavy utilities dropped to the tiled floor and he kicked them away into the corner, tugging off his socks. With a hand over his head, he pulled the henley off and away from his body, throwing it in the direction of the hamper. Scanning your eyes over his torso, you could see the faint scratches and bruises on his abdomen and chest, a frown on your lips as you reached your fingers out to him, and he stepped forwards.

Brushing your fingers over a bruise faintly, you felt his muscles twitch under your touch, but he didn’t flinch away, and you retract your hand as he undid his belt buckle, smiling down at you. “Doesn’t hurt, I’m okay. More worried ‘bout you.” He dropped his pants and underwear to the floor, kicking them away from him and stepping into the water opposite you, his feet coming to rest on one side of your hips, and he reached under the water, lifting your feet onto his thighs so you were more comfortable.

Grabbing his own food, he tucked in hungrily, a smile on his lips as he finally got some food in his system, and you poked around in your meal, picking out a particularly fat dumpling and extracting it, holding it out to him. With a grateful nod, he took the squishy object between his own chopsticks, quickly bringing it to his mouth and taking the whole thing in one bite, cheeks puffed out as he let out a little moan in happiness.

“I love our local chinese restaurant, I really do.” You simply nodded in agreement, letting out a hum as you sucked up chicken noodles, trying to make the meal last, but it was so good, and you hadn’t even realised you were this hungry until this exact moment, your body thanking you.

Upon finishing your food, you discarded the box on the floor outside of the tub, sinking further into the water and closing your eyes. Finding your calves under the water, he rubbed at your legs gently, massaging the muscles he could reach, before retreating back to your feet, pressing his thumbs firmly into the arch of your left foot as your toes stretched out happily before curling inwards, letting him repeat his ministrations.

“You good, baby?” You merely nodded, relaxing as he switched feet and removed all the tension from your body until you were fully relaxed, head lolled back. You were putty in this man’s arms, and there was no one you loved or trusted more to take care of you. Watching you, he admired the way he could put you at ease. Your features weren’t scrunched up in pain like they were when he found you earlier, they were now at peace and easy, and the realisation he’d done that for you warmed his heart.

If you’d told Diego two years ago that he would be loving someone this much, that he would be this devoted to someone, he would’ve laughed at the idea and mocked. Now, though, he was utterly adoring. You loved him for every last little bit of him. Every cut you had patched up late at night and every word he had stuttered over in the first few months, even still, if he was having a particularly bad day.

He was irrevocably, life changingly, head over heels in love with you, and he knew he’d never quite love anyone else this much.

“I l-love you.”

“Love you, Di.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet one another’s, a smirk on his lips as your jaw hung open slightly, both your eyebrows raised at the odd event that had just taken place. With a laugh, you leaned forwards, finding his hands under the water and linking your fingers with his, chin resting on the tops of your knees as you just simply looked at one another, taking all of the other in.

Shuffling, the water slopped over the edges slightly as Diego turned your back to him, sitting you between his parted legs, almost pressed to his chest in the confined space. Taking a sponge, he lathered it up, running it slowly over your back and across your arms, before hooking around to the front and ensuring you were clean. The soap from you rubbed across onto him as you leant on him, and it dribbled along his arms from the sponge, cleaning himself of the day’s dirt and filth, too.

“Could sit here all day, with you, just enjoying your company.” You smiled, turning to glance at him over your shoulder and he shook his head, looking away from you to disguise the slight blush riding from his cheeks. Pulling away, he stretched his legs and arms out, hands firmly gripping the sides of the metal basin.

“As much as I love sitting with you in bubble baths until the water goes cold, I don’t think you spending prolonged periods of time cold and wet would be very beneficial to your health right now.” He smiled, lifting himself from the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist, holding one out for you as you lifted yourself up, taking the fluffy material from him and wrapping it tightly around your body, securing it.

Undoing the plug, the water immediately began to drain away, gurgling as it went, and you watched it, doing your best to scoop up empty food boxes and place them in the bin, your tired joints and muscles immediately aching at the exertion as Diego cleaned all your clothes up into the hamper.

With hands on your waist, he turned you to him, leaning you back against the counter for support as he raised a washcloth to your face, using the material to wipe the old smeared and smudged makeup from your features. Using the most delicate touch he could, you reached up, your hand closing over the top of his and squeezing gently as he worked, pouting your lips to press a kiss to his palm as his hand passed over your mouth.

Once he was absolutely sure your face was clean, he took a generous quantity of your nightly moisturiser on his finger, rubbing it into your skin with his thumb and making sure he reached everywhere, even under your chin as you leaned happily into his touch, ignoring the ache in your knees.

Rubbing the rest into his own skin, he took your hand in his, guiding you from the bathroom and down the hall into your shared bedroom where you joyously took a seat on the bed. Rooting through the drawers, he dropped his towel, pulling a pair of sweatpants up his legs and tying them loosely at his waist, before holding a fresh t-shirt over your head, helping you push your hands through the arm holes and push your head through. Pushing your hair away from your forehead, he smoothed it away, pressing his forehead to yours for the briefest moment, before taking both of your towels and hanging them up to dry.

“Feel any better now?” You just nodded at his question, patting the bed beside you and resting your head on his shoulder as he took a seat next to you on the mattress.

“Feel fresh. Clean. Not sweaty and gross.” The words were spoken through a yawn, and you covered your mouth, sniffling and rubbing your nose before swallowed thickly with a wince. “My nose is like, raw. Hurts from blowing it so much. Who knew tissues could do such damage?” You pondered, crawling up the bed and pulling back the covers as you settled in, never feeling so good from your head hitting the pillow as you did in that moment.

Returning and sitting next to you, he uncapped the tube in his hands, rubbing a rather large quantity of the cold liquid on and around your red nose, almost reaching your lips and smearing up your cheeks in a thick layer, barely rubbing it in, just letting it sit. Scrunching up your nose as it stung, you quickly relaxed as it soothed the area, a soft sound leaving your lips as you awed over the cream, and he placed it on your bedside table. “Healing cream. Should make your skin feel better. Works for me," He confirmed, placing a large bottle of water down beside your bed. “Drink all of this during the night. Keep your fluids up.”

Nodding, you suppressed another yawn, turning the light out and letting your eyes finally close for good, the day and this sickness having taken its toll on you. Feeling the mattress behind your back sink as Diego settled in, you shuffled further onto your side, hearing him huff as he moved closer. “You’re not gonna cuddle me, Di?” You mumbled, hearing his movements stop momentarily before a hand wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling your backwards into his chest, his legs tangling with yours.

“Of course I’m going to cuddle you. What kind of stupid question was that?” He settled in behind you, arm wrapped firmly around you, and you rolled over in his grip, nose brushing against his as he looked at you in the dark.

“You’re gonna get sick being this close to me, breathing my germs,” You teased, poking at his chest and he twitched at the contact.

“I’ll hold my breath," He joked, and you rolled your eyes. You both knew he could but that wasn’t the point. He could still get ill, and you knew no matter what, he would still go on his nightly patrols, still box, and only make himself sicker. “You need cuddles more than ever tonight, and if I get sick, so be it,” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I’ll take my chances, but no kisses, because then I know I’ll get sick. We both know it won’t be a middle school peck.” You could practically sense the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes at the statement and you sighed, trying not to smile as the good holding onto you.

“Fine. Cuddle at your own risk," You warned, a tired laugh falling from his lips as he kissed at your forehead and cheeks, before letting you roll back over.

Laying in the silence for a while, his breathing evened out, and you laced your fingers through his, holding onto him tightly. Your head was pounding, the headache finally kicking in as the pressure in your sinuses and behind your eyes became too much. Your throat, however, had been cleared, and your body was so much more relaxed, all thanks to Diego caring for you. “You awake, Di?”

Getting merely a grunt mixed with a snore in response, you rolled over to face him, cupping his peaceful face in your hands. Leaning forwards, you pressed a kiss to his nose, your fingers smoothing over his skin joyfully, taking in all of his relaxed and vulnerable state, realising just how lucky you were to have him in your life.

“God, I hope you want to marry me one day as much as I want to marry you. Don’t know how I’d find someone else after you.” The words were barely audible, and for a while, they just floated off into the silence, minutes passing as your eyes closed, a smile on your lips, hands still resting on Diego’s face, holding him close, as his fingers squeezed at your waist slightly before falling away, shuffling in the dark as you assumed he turned.

Hearing the opening and closing of the drawer of his bedside table, however, you cracked an eye open, his still closed as he flicked the lid of the small box in his hand open, a little light shining down onto the adorned silver band inside. “Trust me, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it for a while,” He spoke sleepily. Snapping the box closed again and placing it back in the drawer, closing it as his eyes opened to look at you, adoration swirling within them. “You can’t have that until I come up with the perfect way to ask you. I have plans. I put deposits down. You’re getting a real damn proposal,” He teased, and you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes and dripping down onto the material of the pillow you were sharing as he wiped them away gently. “At least now I know it's going to be a yes. It is going to be a yes, right?”

“Of course it’s a yes, you fool. I fucking love you,” You cursed, shoving his shoulder before he caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and holding it close to his heart, his eyes closing again as he yawned, settling back in to sleep, hand still holding yours.

“Feel so cherished when you put it that way. The aggression: really endearing. You should put that in your vows,” He jabbed, teeth flashing as he laughed quietly, hearing you scoff.

“Oh, shut it,” You whimpered, wiping your face dry.

“Make me.” His statement was more of a plea, and you leaned forwards, fingers under his chin to tilt his head up as your lips found his, moving against his own slowly and languidly, sharing the love between you, showing the other everything, and Diego no longer cared that you’d be getting him sick. That he’d wake up in the morning aching and coughing with you, because he now knew that he could wake up with you every morning, no matter what, and that was far more important to him than one little sickness.