#for christ and country danger is sweet

[whats-in-a-sentence]

To mark the occasion, Uhr ordered a signet ring engraved with the crest and motto of the dukes of Roxburghe: Pro Christo et Patria Dulce Periculum – For Christ and Country Danger is Sweet.

"Killing for Country: A Family History" - David Marr

[gracieheartspedro]

Somewhere With You

Part 4 of How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

FIND Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 HERE!!

description: sleeping with your exes brother is one thing, but envisioning a whole life with him? that's a dangerous game. but you did it. now you're here, and tommy is fucking pissed.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! fear of being caught by sarah?, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING, dirty talk, overstimulation, titty fucking (yw caly), light violence, tommy is literally evil.

author's note: jesus christ i'm so glad I am finally here with this. I feel like finishing this is my greatest success in life lmao. I will probably continue this series but this is the last part for a while. I appreciate everyone's love on it and I can't wait to get more stuff out to y'all!

“Are we going to have a celebration when we get home?”

Joel laughs, “Yeah, we can. What did you wanna do?”

You just listen to Sarah list off all the possible ways to celebrate winning the tournament. The movies, going to the mall for new jeans, going to the local ice cream parlor every night of the week. Joel shakes his head at that one as he turns the truck onto the highway. You have your knees up to your chest, the zip up Joel let you borrow hanging off your shoulders. You had complained about how cold you were all weekend, so Joel shut you up by tossing you his zip up. You haven’t taken it off since. 

The sun was setting over the horizon, drawing the Sunday to a close. You had to work in the morning and you were dreading concluding the weekend you spent with Joel and Sarah. 

Everything with them seems natural. It felt like family. 

You did not want to face tomorrow, especially when there was no set plans as to when you would be hanging out with them again. 

Luckily, Sarah has not mentioned much of anything about what she saw early Saturday morning, so there was no awkward tension. The only time it came up was when you all were tired from Saturday’s events and you arrived back to the hotel room.

“You two sleeping together tonight, too?” She asked, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She wasn’t even trying to be rude or demeaning, she just wanted to know if she could fall asleep in one of the beds without being stirred. 

“Yeah, you can have that bed hun.” Joel answered. 

Sitting on those horribly uncomfortable bleachers and cheering Sarah on had taken a lot out of you, so you were ready to throw yourself into the plush mattress, too. 

You watched Sarah throw herself onto of the comforter, sinking into the pillows face first. It makes you giggle while you grab your pajamas to change. 

Joel nudges you while you dig through your duffle, “No funny business tonight, ma’am.” 

You shake your head, his comment making your stomach turn upside down with nerves. You smack his chest with the back of your hand, “No duh, asshole.”

Sarah puts her headphones on, drowning out Joel’s humming to an old country song. You just stare ahead, watching him speed pass car after car. His truck revs every time he does it which makes you clench your knees a bit tighter. 

“In a rush, dear?”

The nickname makes his heart race.

He taps his fingers, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t drive him insane. “Want to make sure to get you home so you can be rested up for work in the morning.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you, but take your time. I’m in no rush.”

He eases off the gas a bit, taking your advice. 

“You talk to your Mama lately? She still likin’ Maine?” 

It wasn’t a question you were expecting coming from Joel. You had told him about your mom around the time that she moved away, however long ago that was. You truly didn’t expect him to even remember.

“We talk every week, she likes it there. Wants me to come experience a winter there, so I may go up for Christmas,” You explain, remembering back to conversation you two just had last week. She wanted you to feel what fluffy snow felt like and maybe go skiing with her. 

It makes Joel’s heart sink a bit. Not because you would be visiting your mother, but instead you would not be here to spend Christmas with him and Sarah. He had already planned on making a spot for you at the dining table. 

“That’d be nice,” He licks his lips, contemplating if he should say what he really wants to say, “‘M bettin’ she misses seein’ your beautiful face everyday.”

You smile, your cheeks burning hot at Joel calling you beautiful. You knew you had to throw him off and give him a sarcastic response to keep him on his toes.

“Gonna freeze my ass off there. May have to borrow some of your flannels.”

He chuckles, tilting his head towards you, “You already havta’ have about four of my t-shirts, now that hoodie. You wanna raid me some more?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you said I just had to “get with you” to get clothes,” You’re whispering, leaning into him. You don’t want Sarah to hear the words you’re speaking to her father, “How many times do we need to go at it before I get one of those denim jackets you own?”

He peers over at you. You smirk, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You with me to get my clothes or somethin’?”

“That and other things,” You tease, pulling away, leaning your back against the seat again. 

Joel peers into the rear view mirror. Sarah is asleep, her headphones blasting her favorite pop album. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes not leaving the road, “You’ll havta remind me of those other things when we get home.”

He could get used to always having you in his passenger seat. 

-

Sarah was dead asleep in the backseat, so you both decided to get all the stuff from the back inside before nudging her awake. You quietly shut the door, grabbing Joel’s one bag from the driveway and slinging it over your shoulder. 

You follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and places Sarah’s stuff on the staircase. 

The idea of having to leave made you want to scream. You didn’t feel like driving home and laying lonely in your own bed. You didn’t want to resume your boring life at work. You just wanted him. 

This weekend made you realize that you really couldn’t live without him. You’re not only comfortable around him, but he’s exciting. He cracks jokes and compliments you when you don’t expect it. Those couple of months without him were still months he was plaguing your mind, even though he wasn’t physically around you. 

You snap out of your thoughts quickly. You start watching Joel’s muscles restrict over his gray t-shirt and it’s enough to send you to your knees. You didn’t even realize how crazy he was driving you. His messy curls that were trapped under a hat most of the weekend are finally loose and curling up his neck. And the way his jeans hugged his ass while he walked away from you? You didn’t know how long to could refrain from telling him you needed him, right this second. 

“I may call out tomorrow. Too tired to sit on my computer all day and run reports,” You say while he wonders back to you from his bedroom down the hall. You’re hoping it leads to an offer.  

He nods, tossing his keys on the entry table next to you,“Yeah, I am off tomorrow. Have to get this house in order and make sure Sarah actually wakes up for school in the morning.”

No offer. Maybe you could propose it?

“Maybe I could just spend the night.”

The air is thick instantly with tension. You can hear the hitch in his throat. Once you say it, you realize how desperate you must sound. But you want to be able to lay next to him again. You want and need him. 

“If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. I don’t mind none. Love havin’ you here.”

He grabs your waist lazily, pulling you into his chest. The connection sends chills down your arms. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to you to think I’m being needy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, he just bows his head to capture your lips with his, giving you a slow sensual kiss. You move your hands up to his neck, pulling him down further into you, eager to be close to him. 

When he realizes that’s where it’s going, he pulls up for air. 

“Lemme go get the last couple bags and get Sarah inside.”

As he says that, the door flings open behind you. A sleepy Sarah blinks at both of you, shaking her head instantly when she sees her Dad’s arms wrapped around you. You push back, flinging yourself backwards and away from Joel. 

“Can you lovebirds do that somewhere else,” She groans, while rubbing her eyes, “Don’t need another sibling created right in front of m-”

“Sarah Jane!”

-

You smile when Joel drops onto his mattress with a huff. 

“So…” You drift off, crawling onto Joel’s lap, “You come here often?”

He chuckles, his hands beginning to trail your waist.

“Come here quite often, actually,” He jokes, his hands resting right under your shirt and on your hips. “How about you?”

You hum, “Not really. Maybe a couple times. Would love to come around, more though.”

“That so?”

You lean down, using your fingers to pull back his brown locks and pivot his head upward. You kiss him gingerly, smiling at his small groan.

You pull away, “I’d love to come to your bed every night, Joel Miller.”

The guttural moan he makes sends a rush to your core. He grabs the nape of your neck and brings you back down to his lips. He takes control of your movements, switching positions by gently laying you back. He leans over your body, his lips carrying the weight of his emotion. You’re scrambling though, tugging at his shirt, trying to rid it off his body. He pulls away to throw it off his body, motioning you to do the same. Soon, you two are completely naked.

“I never get sick of this view,” He rasps, his eyes raking your body. 

You smirk, “Back atcha, babe.”

He positions himself on top of you, his lips lingering on your neck and collarbones. 

Joel’s kisses are always intentional. It’s like he knows every pressure point on your body. His lips are always wet and supple, dragging across your soft skin. 

When his mouth reaches the skin around your breast, you start to arch up for more contact. He grabs your stomach, pushing it softly down onto the bed. 

“Patience, baby,” He mumbles, kissing the same area on the other breast. You jerk up again, absentmindedly.

“Can’t help it,” You whine, trying not to sound so desperate. 

He clicks his tongue, “You can and you will.”

His lips wrap around your nipple and you just watch with hooded lids. His eyes are closed, so focus on teasing every inch of your body. You can feel the slick pool between your legs at the sight. 

“Joel, please.”

He releases the pink nub, “What, baby? Use those words.”

“I want you all over, Joel.”

“Yeah? Where? Here?” 

He grabs your breast roughly, making you mewl. 

You finally gesture down. Your hand slides between your legs, dragging up and down your own slit. You gather as much slick as you can, bringing it up to Joel’s surprised expression. 

“I see…” He brings your fingers up to his lips. You gape at his next actions, amazed that he’s so filthy. He takes your two fingers and licks them like a popsicle. You audible sigh as he sucks on your fingers like a man starved. 

“You goin’ to be extra good for me?” He asks when your digits escape his mouth. 

“Always am.”

Your voice is shaky when you say it. It makes Joel smirk. He loves when you sound ruined.

“Love hearing those words come out of your pretty little mouth.”

He crawls down your body, peppering kisses from your stomach down to your thighs. You watch him closely as he props your thighs over his shoulders. He does not waste time, diving straight into your divine center. You try to refrain from screaming his name, knowing Sarah may not be asleep yet. You clap your hand over your mouth while he licks your sensitive clit. He lays his tongue flat, pressing into you as he shakes his head back and forth. When he does that, you yelp into your palm. 

“Mmm, baby girl wants to be loud so bad,” He chuckles darkly, using his fingers to spread your lips, “You wanna be loud for me huh?”

“Yes, please, God,” You pant, “Need you in me, Joel.”

“Yeah? Lets stretch you out a bit,” He doesn’t even give any warning when he sinks his fingers inside your pussy. “Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready, baby girl. Want you to cum before I stick this cock in ya.”

You swallow, letting him take the lead like usual. You liked it this way, when he ravishes you with his abilities and you get to cum several times. You never had sex like this in your life, especially consistently. 

His fingers curl inside you, pumping in and out. You can hear how wet you are, the wetness sequelching against Joel’s fingers. Your pussy is graced with his tongue again while he fucks you with his digits. It’s like it’s pulled out of you. The orgasm sends white hot flashes to your vision. You know you’re saying something, but it’s no word in the English language. 

When you come back down from euphoria, Joel’s ontop of you again. He’s kissing your cheeks, mumbling something about how beautiful you are when you cum. 

“Joel, please,” Your hands grab onto his biceps, “Want you inside me.”

His cock drags along your navel, as he situates himself between your legs. 

“Yeah? Always so eager,” He grabs his cock with his free hand, “Wanna try something a little different?”

Your stomach drops, “Like what?”

He toys with your nipple with his pointer and thumb, “Always wanted to fuck these.”

You smirk at the thought, your stomach finally at ease.

“You want to fuck my titties, Joel?”

“If you’ll let me,” He squeezes your boob gently, “Think these things are perfect. Want my cock right between them.”

You nod, “Fuck ‘em then, baby.”

He pulls you up, practically shoving you on the ground beside his bed. He wasn’t being aggressive, just guiding you to follow his lead. You sit on your knees, watching up at him as he pumps his cock over you. You use both hands to push your tits together. He grins as he touches the head of his cock to your hard nipples. 

“So good for me,” He groans, slipping his cock between your cleavage, “Obeyin’ me and doin’ everythin’ I want. My fuckin’ dream girl.”

He starts to fuck your squeezed together tits as you stare up at him with a completely spent expression. You dribble some spit down between the break in your breast to lube up the area. Your pupils are blown and you feel the wetness of you slit soaking the skin of your legs. You can tell by the look on Joel’s face that he could cum at the sight of you. 

But he stops and instead, grabs your bicep and tosses you back on the bed. You watch him crawl up between your legs, his face untamed and filled with anticipation. 

“Need to cum in that pussy,” He pumps it a couple times before slipping in between your pussy lips, “Do you need me to put on a condom or anything? I don’t have to fuck you raw every time.”

You bite your lip, “I like feeling every part of you, Joel. I promise.”

“Mmm,” He hums, sinking his cock head inside you, “Love to hear that, baby.”

You circle your hips, practically fiening for him to sink all the way into you. He takes the hint, plunging into you with one snap. Once he’s finally sheathed in you, you groan out which only instigates him. He draws out and back in, his pace painstakingly slow. You grip onto his forearms, digging your nails into them. Maybe he will take the hint that you need it faster. 

But, no.

“Words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

You choke out the words, “Faster. Harder.”

He kisses your lips, shushing you as his tempo picks up. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans. He knows if you’re too loud there may be listening ears, so kissing you will hush the sounds of pleasure. He sits up and repositions, grabbing the back of both of your legs, practically folding you in half. You smirk in delight, watching his furrowed expression focus on your body’s reactions. 

“This pussy is mine,” He huffs, watching himself plow into you, “All fuckin’ mine. Ya know that?”

“Yes,” You manage to peep out, “It’s yours, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He spreads your legs, opening you up nice and wide. His thumb finds your responsive clit, circling it with the momentum of his hips, “Cum for me, baby. Soak this fuckin’ cock.”

Your body reacts in the way he finds so satisfying. Your hips lift up as the climax takes over, your whole body shaking at the ecstasy he brings you. He doesn’t let up, chasing his own bliss. You are so overstimulated, you are just gasping for air. He starts to falter, his pace slowing as he coats your insides with his cum. 

You start to chuckle when his body practically collapses onto you. His sweaty curls stick to your perspiring cheek. You find yourself kissing his temple, practically thanking him for fucking you so good every time.

He stands up, his half-hard dick slipping out of you pain-stakingly slow. You whimper at the feeling, still a mess from your orgasm. 

“God, you are perfect,” He mumbles, his hand slipping down your bare thigh, “Could fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

You are still awestruck by the interaction, you don’t even know you’re saying it, “Why don’t you?”

He smiles while he helps you sit up, “I will. Now let’s get you all showered and ready for bed, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

-

Luckily for you, your body naturally wakes up at 5:30AM. You creep out of the bedroom, making sure not to stir Joel awake. You find the house phone and call your boss, letting her know you were “sick” and needed to use a sick day. She just mumbled a “whatever” and you hung up, heading back to the warmth of Joel’s bed. 

Joel wakes up as soon as you crawl back into bed, but he knew he had to get up and make sure Sarah got ready and off to school, anway. He cuddles you for a bit, watching you nod back off to sleep. He let you sleep in while he cleaned up the house a bit. He tries his best not to much too much noise, not wanting to rattle you awake. 

You did wake back up when you heard the vacuum. You pull yourself together, putting your hair up into a bun as you stumble out of the bedroom. Joel stands in the living room, not even aware you’re behind him. He jumps when he notices you in the threshold, turning off the vacuum. 

“Mornin’ sleepin’ beauty,” He laughs as he wraps up the vacuum cord. 

“Mornin’ handsome.”

You watch him roll the machine back into the hall closet before taking note to how nice and clean the house looked. 

“Looks good in here,” You mumble, noting how every surface looks dusted, “It’s missing one thing. You have a vase?”

He silently nods, looking at you confused.

“Go fill it with water, I’ll be back.”

You walk towards the front door, swinging it open as you begin tip toeing to Joel’s side garden. He had started it with Sarah years ago, and for the most part, it was completely overgrown. Some flowers still bloom in the Texas sun, so you pick the prettiest from the dirt. Once you have a bundle, you practically jog inside to show Joel your bouquet. 

“Hmm,” He smirks, “Didn’t think we needed flowers.”

“Well, you do.”

He shows you the vase on the coffee table, letting you take on the responsibility to make it pretty. He watches you carefully, your tired eyes trained on the task. 

You were his dream girl, truly.

Once you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you make a grand gesture. 

“Beautiful, baby,” He beams, wrapping his arms around your waist. He drops down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

“Who me or the flowers?” You joke.

“Both.”

You give him a lazy kiss, smirking into it. 

This part of life with Joel is so domestic and perfect. You two could create this little world and live in it forever. He appreciated your silly antics, knowing how neglected this side of you must have been with Tommy. He didn’t care about the small gestures like Joel did. 

It was so reassuring being with Joel. He praised you like you had never been before. 

As you pull away from his lips, you hear a door slam outside. Before you could even react, the front door swings open into the house. You sit on Joel’s lap, turned away from the front door, completely dumbfounded.

“What is going on here?”

His voice scares you. You don’t even want to turn around in Joel’s lap to face him. Joel slowly helps you out of his lap, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s. 

When you finally turn to face Tommy, his eyes are wild and bright red. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his longer hair greasy and standing in all sorts of directions. It’s not his appearance that scares you, it’s the energy he’s brought into Joel’s living room. It’s the same scary tension you experienced when he lashed out on you before. 

Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

But Tommy isn’t talking to Joel. He’s looking at you. 

“Are you fuckin’ my brother?”

He’s pointing at you, his finger waving at you like an adult who’s scolding a child. You open your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your throat is dry, the shock and terror taking ahold of your vocal chords. 

“Tommy, we aren’t doing this.”

Joel puts himself in between Tommy and you, ensuring he doesn’t creep closer to you. You want to believe Tommy would never get physical with you, but the way he looks now, you’re not one hundred percent positive. 

“That’s not what I fuckin’ asking, Joel. Are you two sleepin’ together?” 

His voice is booming, bouncing off every corner of the room. It makes you shrink three sizes. 

Joel places his head up, warning him silently not to get any closer, “Tommy-”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

You want to curl into a ball. You knew this would fucking happen. You knew he’d go insane. 

You look at Joel finally. You realize your eyes were trained on Tommy in terror, unsure on how to console him. Joel licks his lips, rolling his eyes a bit. You just nod, trying to answer Tommy’s question without saying anything. You didn’t want him to realize how shaky your voice was. 

Once he gets confirmation, all hell breaks loose. He’s pushing on Joel with his chest, screaming expletives at him. You stand in the corner of the living room, your body practically wedged between a lamp and the couch. You want to become one of the dustbunnies on the floor boards, not wanting to be apart of this situation.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You fucked my girl-“

Before he can even finish the statement, Joel becomes a brick wall. He’s staring down at Tommy now, all the while snot is running down at his little brother’s face. He looked pathetic. As he nudges Joel’s chest, he hardly moves a milimeter. Joel doesn’t even hesitate when he says the next words. 

“Not your girl.”

You truly cannot believe the words coming out of Joel’s mouth. You knew what he was insinuating and it brought chills up your back. Tommy’s movements completely halt and he stands there in a stunned silence. Joel’s jaw is slack, his eyes trained down at Tommy. It’s a stand-off. 

Tommy crooks his head to the side, like he’s stretching it. “You want to pull that shit now, Joel? I knew you wanted my sloppy seconds the moment you told me she was at your house that night.”

Being referred as “sloppy seconds” makes your blood boil. It’s so dehumanizing. 

“Stop talking about her like that,” Joel warns, his voice a whole octave lower. 

“No,” Tommy growls, his gaze finally falling on you again, “You’re a whore. Just like your stupid sister.”

You swallow hard. It’s finally your moment to shine. The burst of adrenaline chorusing through your veins finally propels you forward, pushing Joel out of your way. 

“You’re the town whore, Tommy Miller. You fucked your way around Austin and then came home to me every night,” You are shaking. Luckily, your voice isn’t wavering, “You lie. You cheat. You are a decietiful little shit. And I’m so glad you are because if you hadn’t slept with my sister and told me, I would have never realized how terrible you were to me all these years. I wasted so much time on babying you.”

The vein in his forehead is bulging and it makes you smile a bit. 

“If I could go back in time, I would’ve saved my fucking tears and ran the other direction.”

He has the audacity to giggle, “Instead you ran right into Joel’s arms.”

You don’t hesitate, “You never gave a damn about me, he actually did. I should’ve taken the hint the moment he brought me flowers for my graduation, and you showed up with a flask.”

“You graduated college! Big fuckin’ deal! Get over yourself!”

Now you’re laughing. 

“Bite me, Tommy,” You reach out and grab his t-shirt, pulling him into you. It makes Joel super nervous how close he is to you. He knows Tommy’s temper and how easily he will snap. He doesn’t know the next words about to come out of your mouth. 

“You cheated on me, you fucking loser. I told you then we were done that night, did I not? What I did after that point is not your business. I’m not yours anymore. And your brother, he treats me real good. Way better than you ever did. He can actually last, unlike you,” You smack your lips together, “He can fuck me better than you, that’s for sure.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the words. Tommy looks completely dazed, but as soon as the last line leaves your mouth, he pushes you backward, right into Joel. You squeak at the contact, your brain registering that he actually put his hands on you. Joel quickly grabs you from tripping over him, and places you behind him quickly. Tommy reaches out for you, but Joel stops him meer inches from your face. 

“Fuck you!”

Tommy tries to throw his hand at Joel’s head next but it’s quickly stopped by Joel’s forearm. Instead of Tommy continuing the fight with you two, he takes it out on the new flowers and vase you just put out on Joel’s coffee table. He uses all his force, grabbing the vase and launching it towards the wall. The glasses shatters, water splashes on the wall, and pieces of flowers litter the floor. 

The action sends Joel pushing Tommy backward and against the wall. You want to yell out for them to stop, but all that comes out his Joel’s name. 

When he pins Tommy to the wall, he finally turns to you. 

“Don’t.”

It’s the only word you can say. You’re shaking, your eyes welling with tears. Joel knows you don’t want to see him demolish Tommy with his fists, so he thinks quick. He grabs Tommy’s collar, dragging him out the front door. 

You follow far behind, not sure what Joel’s gameplan is. 

Tommy is yelling, telling Joel to unhand him. Joel just tightens his grip. 

“Coming into my house, talking to my girl like that. Fuckin’ disrespectful little shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Tommy yells, his voice probably waking the neighbors. Joel launches Tommy’s body into the front yard, right near the flower bed. You watch from the doorway, wanting to keep your distance from the confrontation. 

“Remember when you had temper tantrums when Momma told you no as a boy? Nothings changed. You’re an immature little brat.”

Joel reaches down into the flower bed, grabbing the hose. Tommy is still on the ground, scrambling to get up. Joel does something so unexpected, it makes you yelp. He starts soaking Tommy with the hose. 

“Yeah, like the girl said before,” He aims towards Tommy’s face, “bite me.”

Tommy starts to spit up water, jumping up and away from the stream of water. Instead of tackling Joel like you anticipate, he just shakingly wipes his hair out of his eyes. 

“You two are sick. Fuckin’ sick. And everyone will know about this.”

It makes your heart sink to your stomach. You don’t really care if anyone knows anymore. You knew this was going to be the worst part, but its the way he makes it sound like a threat. 

“I bet they will, I just don’t give a damn.”

Joel sprays him while he stands up, making Tommy groan and yell out in annoyance. Joel just smiles, sickly. 

Tommy storms off to his truck, dripping wet from the shower Joel just gave him on his front lawn. Joel tosses the hose back into the garden, satisfied with his work. You two stand there, watching Tommy do a burn out and speed off down the road. You breathe out loud, your hands finding your face. Joel glances between his neighbour’s houses, ensuring there is no one outside watching the events unfold. He did not care if they did watch, but he knew you would probably care. 

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, guiding you back inside the house. Your eyes instantly fall on all the shattered glass and flowers as you walk inside. Joel ignores it and brings you into the kitchen. 

Your mind is racing. You knew every word you said to Tommy was right deep down. But the girl you were, she wouldn’t have instigated his rage. She would’ve sat there and took every word he said to heart and believed them. 

But the girl you are now, that girl is completely ruthless. You are petty. You are harsh. You are angry. 

You kind of scared yourself. 

“Joel-”

“No baby,” he mutters, “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“Joel, we can’t d-”

“We can. Because fuck Tommy. Fuck everyone,” He grabs your hips, letting his hands settle softly on your curves, “I want you. I want you so bad. I am not lettin’ you get away. Tommy can tell everyone in the fuckin’ world about us, and I won’t fuckin’ care. What he says doesn’t reflect you. You did nothin’ wrong. Okay?”

You swallow. You know he’s right, but you’re so scared of all this fallout. You don’t want it to scare you away from Joel, but it’s nervewracking to wait around and anticipate all of the chaos that will follow this incident. You did not want to tear apart a family. It’s the same feeling you had the morning after you first slept with Joel.

You’re scared to have him because of what it means for him. It means weird holidays and weird stares at grocery stores. It means you will be known as his brother’s ex girlfriend never just his girl. 

You don’t realize it, but you’re staring past Joel. He tilts your head towards him, making your eyes connect. 

“I love you, okay?”

His words make your heart flutter with relief. Maybe that’s what you needed. You needed him to finally say those words. Because those words were hanging in the back of your mind, simmering, waiting to be said.

“I love you, too, Joel.”

[mask131]

Green spring: The Easter Bunny

THE EASTER BUNNY

Category: Easter folklore

When people think of Easter, they usually consider that there are two sides to the celebration – the religious Easter, about the resurrection of Jesus Christ in Christian religion, and the secular Easter, which is all about finding chocolate eggs. But it might surprise you to learn that the Easter eggs – and the Easter bunny – are not as “cut-off” from the religious celebrations as one might think…

You see, the very tradition of the Easter eggs comes from a Christian custom of sharing eggs dyed red – dyed red to symbolize the blood shed during the crucifixion of Jesus, the death of the Messiah, but eggs to symbolize the resurrection of the Christ upon Easter day. While in most of the “Western world”, the religiousness of the eggs kind of disappeared – as they became plastic eggs and chocolate eggs hunted down by children in gardens and parks, they kept all of their religiousness in Eastern Christianity (Orthodox Christianity), where they are still blessed by a priest. In fact, the very reason the Easter eggs are chocolate eggs now was cause of the practice of Lent – forty days of fasting before Easter during which Christians were forbidden to eat rich foods, such as meat, eggs or sweets. Since Lent ended with Easter, people started to create chocolate eggs to have the pleasure to eat back two of the forbidden “Lent foods” (eggs and chocolate) at once. And similarly, it might surprise you, the Easter Bunny started out as a religious figure…

The Easter Bunny first appeared as the “Easter Hare” among the Lutherans of Germany in the second half of the 17th century – he was a moral figure very similar to what Santa Claus was for Christmas, that is to say that the Easter Hare was supposed to watch over and decide which children were naughty and which children were nice during Eastertide (the Easter season). Nice children would then receive gifts from the Easter Hare – colored eggs, candies and/or toys. The Easter Hare was especially supposed to place the eggs in special nets children had to make in their bonnets, caps or hats on Easter Eve. It was truly a figure of Protestant moralism, the same way Saint Nicholas was tied to Catholic morals for children. It was in the 18th century that the tradition left Germany: as German Protestants arrived in the USA, they brought over with them the “Osterhase”, Easter Hare, which quickly became there the “Easter Rabbit” or “Easter Bunny” – a magical rabbit supposed to hid decorated eggs and/or chocolate eggs in gardens, houses and parks on Easter Eve, eggs that children had then to hunt down and collect on Easter Day.

As you know, nowadays the Easter Bunny is a fully secular creature, part of a “modern folklore” and not being tied to religion anymore. He is a secular symbol of the holiday, especially used by toy-makers and chocolate-makers, who love to distribute Easter Rabbit dolls and chocolate statues on Easter day. Due to this secular nature, there are also many local and regional variations of the creature: for example in Australia, where rabbits are considered a dangerous pest, the mascot of Easter is rather the Easter Bilby – named after an endangered species in an effort to raise awareness and gather funds for the protection of this little marsupial. While the Easter Bunny imposed itself in American-influenced and English-speaking regions, the Germanic countries still hold on to their Easter Hare. And in French-speaking countries (plus Italy) there is a very different custom… The ones supposed to bring the Easter eggs are actually the “Easter bells”. Like, church bells. I’ll explain: in Catholicism it is strictly forbidden to ring the church bells during the “Holy Week” that precedes Easter, to honor the death of Christ. As a result, a legend/story arose, told to children – the story claims that the reason the bells do not ring is because they are gone, they (yes, they are sentient) went on their way to Rome, on a pilgrimage to be blessed by the Pope himself! And they only return to their rightful place on Easter – but not without bringing back eggs they drop in gardens everywhere… This is why in France, Belgium and Italy there is a custom of saying “The Easter bells brought you some eggs!”, “The bells are back from Rome”, or to sell chocolate-bells. But, and as a Frenchman I can attest, this very Christian-focused custom becomes less and less practiced in France, where laicism and the American influence pushed forward the widespread use of the Easter Rabbit instead of the Easter Bells.

You might wonder why a hare out of all was originally chosen for this holiday – and why even the hare was tied to the eggs. Unlike what many people will want you to believe, people “back in the days” did not think that rabbits or hares could lay eggs, no… But the hare had a specific religious connotation which explains why the Lutherans associated it with the “egg of resurrection” of the Christ. You see, it was believed that hares were hermaphrodite creatures, that could reproduce all on their own, without need of a partner. As such, they were considered to be able to reproduce without “losing their virginity”… You see where I’m coming with that? Hares became, especially in northern medieval Europe, a symbol for the Virgin Mary. And thus, the hare (symbolizing Mary) brings the egg (symbolizing Jesus)…

What is also fascinating with the Easter Bunny is that, unlike Santa Claus which has a very precise “canon”, the Easter Bunny doesn’t have any truly settled image in popular culture. Everyone depicts him differently. For some he speaks, for others he doesn’t. For some he is white, for other he is brown – when not blue. For some he is anthropomorphized, dressed with human clothes ; for others he just looks like a regular good old rabbit… There is absolutely no specifically formed image. Everybody pictures a different rabbit in their own head. Though, with the success of Easter Bunny-centered movies this last decade, such as the “Hop” movie or the “Rise of the Guardians” one, things might change in the future… Who knows?

- - - - - -

Since I won’t be able to make much Green Spring post this month, I made an additional one just for Easter. A bit late, I know, but hey, we do as we can.

Speaking of the Easter Bunny, there is something else I should mention: the Eostre theory. Now… As I said, the Easter Rabbit originally was a German figure, a German invention. Well, the Germans have a specific thing with the Easter holiday thanks to the 19th century folklorists, who decided, and tried to prove, that the German celebrations of Easter, were actually tied to the ancient pagan celebrations of a Germanic goddess known as “Eostre” or “Ostara”, a divinity of springtime and the dawn, whose festival got replaced by the Christian Easter. The very name “Eostre” had supposedly turned into “Eastre”, then “Easter”. This theory was notably made EXTREMELY popular by the Brothers Grimm (if you only know them for their fairytales, you should learn that they also studied a lot Germanic paganism, German gods and the German religion as a whole). [To be precise, Eostre was thought to have been originally a Saxon goddess, whose existence and worship then spread to ancient England, thus making her an Anglo-Saxon goddess, and explaining the supposed similarities between the “pagan Easters” of both Germany and England]

In this theory and interpretation, people perceived the “invention” of the Easter Hare as not an “invention”, but a resurgence and return of an ancient pagan symbol – they theorized that the hare was the sacred animal, or animal companion, of Eostre. But despite this very enthusiastic theory, nowadays experts agree that there is no actual substance tying the Easter Bunny/Hare or even the Easter Eggs to the ancient goddess Ostara – and many people even doubt the true existence of Ostara in the first place, with many elements and attributes seemingly being made up.

A bit more Easter eggs trivia for the road: the first chocolate eggs of Easter were invented in France, at the royal court of king Louis XIV, in 1725 to be exact, at Versailles, created by filling empty eggshells with molten chocolate (the first hollow chocolate egg was created in England in 1875). Beyond the red (which was the original dye color for the Easter eggs, reflection of Christ’s blood), the other most popular color for the eggs in the “olden days” was green, to symbolize the renewed foliage and reborn nature of this springtime celebration – the same spring ambiance of Easter also led to the custom of painting leaves over the eggs. The opening of Easter eggs in Christianity is supposed to symbolize the opening of the tomb of the Christ, only to find that it is empty (since he resurrected after being entombed). Between the primitive “let’s dye chicken eggs red” and the modern “plastic eggs filled with candies”, there was a whole tradition of carving Easter eggs out of wood, or making them out of porcelain, and the most famous example of these artificial eggs is without a doubt the Fabergé eggs – a series of wonderful, jeweled Easter eggs made out of precious materials with exquisite decorations, created by the Fabergé jewelry for the two last Russian Tsars… Beyond the traditional “egg hunt” of Easter, found in a lot of countries nowadays, England and Germany have a lot of other Easter games involving eggs – such as the “egg dance” (dancing around eggs on the floor without cracking them), “egg taping” (two people fight by taping each other’s hard boiled egg until one cracks) and the “egg rolling” (an egg race where eggs are throw by the side of a hill, rolling from the top to the bottom).

And finally, the tradition of sharing red eggs ended up creating folk-legends tying this custom to the Biblical times (these legends are found among Orthodox folk-Christianity, again Easter is a VERY BIG deal among Eastern Christians). One of those stories claims that Mary Magdalene had brought boiled eggs in a basket to the other women who went to the tomb of the Christ – and that the eggs turned bright red when the women discovered that the corpse was gone. Another story rather claims that Mary Magdalene, in her effort to spread the news that Jesus was resurrected, went to the emperor of Rome (which one? We don’t know) to tell him “Christ has risen!” (a very common sentence that Orthodox Christians typically pronounce at the blessing or opening of Easter eggs). The emperor mocked her by pointing at an egg and saying “The Christ has no more risen than this egg is red!”, and lo and behold! The egg turned red…

EDIT: @skyprowler pointed out to me that the “blessing of the eggs/blessing of the food” isn’t an exclusively Orthodox rite - it actually is a shared ritual between Western and Eastern Christianity - and while it was never something big in France (at least to my knowledge), it is still very strong today in Germany, Poland, Finland and Slovakia (in fact, skyprowler suggested that it might have been a Central/Eastern European rite that survived in the canon of the Orthodox Church, while kept existing only regionally in the Catholic Church)

[the-royal-blue-network]

Shit, shit, and more shit. 

Dani practically floated the whole way home. Pulling into the parking garage of her condo, she couldn’t even remember the drive. The whole time all she could think about was the green of Paula’s eyes and the sweet smell of her perfume. 

This couldn’t be happening; she couldn’t be falling for a woman she barely knew. Scratch that, she couldn’t be falling for the daughter of the most dangerous man on the east coast.

Nope, she wasn’t falling. It was simply a date, one silly little date.

Shaking her head she claimed her parking spot and made her way up to her condo.

“So how was it?” Asked a voice the second Dani walked through the door.

Jumping back Dani drew her gun from her holster.

“Easy, it’s just me.” Jackson said turning on the lamp.

Dani sighed as she lowered her gun and turned to shut the door.

“Jesus Christ dad, I almost shot you!” She said as she put the gun away.

“I’m sorry kiddo. I was just worried so I thought I’d come wait for you.” He explained.

Dani made her way past her father and into the kitchen.

“So..” Jackson asked, seeming quite eagar.

“She told me everything. She showed me a couple of family photos and took me to her dad’s hideout.” Dani said sarcastically. 

Jackson rolled his eyes.

“Dad it was a first date. These things take time.” Dani said making her way over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

Jackson nodded his head.

“I know, I know. Just-” He sighed before stepping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter opposite his daughter.

“Just be careful. The mind is a playground for the LaVines.” Jackson said.

And it was true, Pauly and Vinny’s father, Micheal, was a psychiatrist and their mother was a therapist. Together Micheal and his wife would crawl into the minds of any and everyone and fuck with them until they went bat shit crazy. 

Micheal and his wife could talk their way in or out of anything and there was no doubt that they taught their boys that skill and Pauly surely taught it to his children as well.

“I know what I’m doing.” Dani assured her father.

“So, what did you do?” Jackson asked, leaning against the fridge door.

“She took me to the park for a picnic.” Dani said.

Dani could feel the slight tug on the corners of her mouth as she thought back on her time with Paula. 

If the circumstances were different she’d be gushing to her father about the whole date. But it wasn’t a date; It was a sting operation to take down one of the most dangerous families in the country. She needed to remember that; no matter how nice and charming Paula was, it was all part of her little game. Paula was trained to be that way and Dani couldn’t let herself forget that.

Since Dani and Paula didn’t really do much, there was not much for Dani and Jackson to talk about. So while Dani took a shower, Jackson called his wife and informed her that he’d be home rather late.

“Alright honey, love you too.” Dani heard her dad say before he hung up the phone.

Dani both admired and loathed the relationship her parents had. Her mother and father were each other’s best friends. As a kid, while all of Dani’s friend’s parents were getting divorced or silently hating one another, Jackson and his wife were playing grab ass in the kitchen and going on dates. Course Dani never had to see any of that but still, her mother and father set the bar for love quite high; sometimes Dani wondered if they’d set it a little too high. 

“Mom says high.” Jackson said as he pocketed his phone.

Sitting on the couch Jackson finally switched off his officer mode and curled up with his daughter. They ended up watching Law and Order; SUV, and this time Jackson refrained from pointing out all of the inaccuracies like he normally did.

[baga24]

‘’The Crossroads’’ Part 19 A CHOSEN ONE

I continue to introduce you, dear readers, in text format to the speech of esteemed Egon Cholakian in his landmark video address 

“The Crossroads”.

So: “A CHOSEN ONE

Moreover, they cloud your perception with sweet words, telling you that you are the chosen savior of the nation, Russia, and the entire world.

 Surrounding you with the prophecies of shamans, seers, mystics, and clairvoyants who unanimously predict a destiny for you as the God-chosen unifier and savior, they prevent you from seeing the fact that it is precisely your inaction that will soon lead to Russia's demise. And not only Russia.

They methodically and persistently instill the idea of your chosenness, your uniqueness, and your destiny to save the world and Russia.

 However, consider this: does this not resemble a classic manipulative technique, where manipulators, by convincing a person of their chosenness, establish control over them and subtly compel that person to do what the manipulators want?

 Do you not recognize in this a cunning trick created by those who have long and imperceptibly been controlling you to realize their own totalitarian ambitions? 

For while they speak to you of your lofty mission to save, the reality, alas, is much bleaker. The inexorable danger is growing that you may become not a savior but rather the cause of the demise of not only your country but all of humanity.

Mr. Putin, I am now appealing to your reason and conscience: wake up. All these prophecies and predictions are an artfully woven web of narratives designed to program your consciousness. You are being coded, you are being manipulated, and unfortunately, you are succumbing to this influence. 

It pains me deeply to witness how you are gradually losing the ability to think independently and critically, becoming a victim of subconscious programming, including from those who have betrayed the teachings of Christ and become accomplices of Nazism.

MEETING

Mr. Putin, I could provide you with many more facts. However, the information I possess is not for public disclosure. 

I could share much with you in a personal, face-to-face meeting. I could tell you things you are not aware of. However, the Nazi forces behind you are unlikely to allow such a meeting to take place.

From my side, I am prepared to provide you with much more information. This concerns the future of your country, not vague predictions, but scientifically based forecasts by year. 

                   ***

You need to know that your country is on the brink of a catastrophe, the scale of which you cannot even imagine. 

The geological situation is much more severe than you have been told. For example, tell me, do you have information about how close the magma is to the surface under the Siberian platform?

 Data indicates that at this moment, the magma's ascent to the surface beneath Siberia is accelerating. This accelerating rise of the mantle plume creates an increased risk of a mega explosion, which could happen at any moment.

I understand that those who persuade you of your chosenness and role as a savior have also assured you that Siberia will become the cradle of civilization.

It may become a cradle, but not in the way you have been told. It is the cradle that could lull the entire world into an eternal sleep of death. And you could be the person who leads all of humanity to its demise. Were you not told this? What a pity.

I do not want to provoke panic among the population, so I cannot publicly disclose all the details, facts, and figures. 

Mass migration of people from Russia to other territories is currently highly undesirable and could exacerbate the situation. And migration is inevitable. Only a madman would remain in your country if they knew the true state of affairs.

This information is too important and delicate to be discussed publicly. I am willing to share it with you in a personal meeting. I assure you that this information could fundamentally change your understanding of the current situation and the future of your country.

I understand that you will not be coming to the United States in the near future. I am willing to meet with you on neutral territory if, of course, the Nazis manipulating you allow it, which I highly doubt.”

## TO BE CONTINUED…

Please support this important information with likes, shares, comments, and applause!

#Allatra #ClimateChange #EgonCholakian #TheCrossroads #GlobalChanges 

[yhwhrulz]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for July 25

Tozer in the Morning RESPONSE TO THE WORD

Men and women who read and study the Scriptures for their literary beauty alone have missed the whole purpose for which they were given. God's Word is not to be enjoyed as one might "enjoy" a Beethoven symphony or a poem by Wordsworth. The reason: the Bible demands immediate action, faith, surrender, committal. Until it has secured these, it has done nothing positive for the reader, but it has increased his responsibility and deepened the judgment that must follow. The Bible was called forth by the fall of man. It is the voice of God calling men home from the wilds of sin; it is a road map for returning prodigals. It is instruction in righteousness, light in darkness, information about God and man and life and death and heaven and hell. Further, the destiny of each individual depends upon the response to that Voice in the Word!

Tozer in the Evening Recognizing Satans Strategic Initiative

Many times in history the Christians in various towns, cities and even whole countries have given up their defense for reasons wholly evil. Worldliness, sinful pleasures and personal ungodliness have often been the cause of the churchs disgraceful surrender to the enemy. Today, however, Satans strategy is different. Though he still uses the old methods where he can do so with success, his more effective method is to paralyze our resistance by appealing to our virtues, especially the virtue of charity. He first creates a maudlin and wholly inaccurate concept of Christ as soft, smiling and tolerant. He reminds us that Christ was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth, and suggests that we go and do likewise. Then if we notice his foot in the door and rise to oppose him he appeals to our desire to be Christlike. You must not practice negative thinking, he tells us. Jesus said, He that is not against Me is for Me. Also He said Judge not, and how can you be a good Christian and pass adverse judgment on any religious talk or activity? Controversy divides the Body of Christ. Love is of God, little children, so love everybody and all will be well. Thus speaks the devil, using Holy Scripture falsely for his evil purpose; and it is nothing short of tragic how many of Gods people are taken in by his sweet talk. The shepherd becomes afraid to use his club and the wolf gets the sheep. The watchman is charmed into believing that there is no danger, and the city falls to the enemy without a shot. So Satan destroys us by appealing to our virtues.

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.

[abellinthecupboard]

Elegy For The Monastery Barn

As though an aged person were to wear Too gay a dress And walk about the neighborhood Announcing the hour of her death, So now, one summer day's end, At suppertime, when wheels are still, The long barn suddenly puts on the traitor, beauty, And hails us with a dangerous cry, For: "Look!" she calls to the country, "Look how fast I dress myself in fire!" Had we half guessed how long her spacious shadows Harbored a woman's vanity We would be less surprised to see her now So loved, and so attended, and so feared. She, in whose airless heart We burst our veins to fill her full of hay, Now stands apart. She will not have us near her. Terribly, Sweet Christ, how terribly her beauty burns us now! And yet she has another legacy, More delicate, to leave us, and more rare. Who knew her solitude? Who heard the peace downstairs While flames ran whispering among the rafters? Who felt the silence, there, The long, hushed gallery Clean and resigned and waiting for the fire? Look! They have all come back to speak their summary: Fifty invisible cattle, the past years Assume their solemn places one by one. This is the little minute of their destiny. Here is their meaning found. Here is their end. Laved in the flame as in a Sacrament The brilliant walls are holy In their first-last hour of joy. Fly from within the barn! Fly from the silence Of this creature sanctified by fire! Let no man stay inside to look upon the Lord! Let no man wait within and see the Holy One sitting in the presence of disaster Thinking upon this barn His gentle doom!

— Thomas Merton

[yhwhrulz777]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for July 25

Tozer in the Morning RESPONSE TO THE WORD

Men and women who read and study the Scriptures for their literary beauty alone have missed the whole purpose for which they were given. God's Word is not to be enjoyed as one might "enjoy" a Beethoven symphony or a poem by Wordsworth. The reason: the Bible demands immediate action, faith, surrender, committal. Until it has secured these, it has done nothing positive for the reader, but it has increased his responsibility and deepened the judgment that must follow. The Bible was called forth by the fall of man. It is the voice of God calling men home from the wilds of sin; it is a road map for returning prodigals. It is instruction in righteousness, light in darkness, information about God and man and life and death and heaven and hell. Further, the destiny of each individual depends upon the response to that Voice in the Word!

Tozer in the Evening Recognizing Satans Strategic Initiative

Many times in history the Christians in various towns, cities and even whole countries have given up their defense for reasons wholly evil. Worldliness, sinful pleasures and personal ungodliness have often been the cause of the churchs disgraceful surrender to the enemy. Today, however, Satans strategy is different. Though he still uses the old methods where he can do so with success, his more effective method is to paralyze our resistance by appealing to our virtues, especially the virtue of charity. He first creates a maudlin and wholly inaccurate concept of Christ as soft, smiling and tolerant. He reminds us that Christ was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth, and suggests that we go and do likewise. Then if we notice his foot in the door and rise to oppose him he appeals to our desire to be Christlike. You must not practice negative thinking, he tells us. Jesus said, He that is not against Me is for Me. Also He said Judge not, and how can you be a good Christian and pass adverse judgment on any religious talk or activity? Controversy divides the Body of Christ. Love is of God, little children, so love everybody and all will be well. Thus speaks the devil, using Holy Scripture falsely for his evil purpose; and it is nothing short of tragic how many of Gods people are taken in by his sweet talk. The shepherd becomes afraid to use his club and the wolf gets the sheep. The watchman is charmed into believing that there is no danger, and the city falls to the enemy without a shot. So Satan destroys us by appealing to our virtues.

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.

[dangertoozmanykids101]

LOLOL!!!! I love the contrast between the two. And now I'm desperately imagining Cole put into situations like the raves they threw. Country mouse thrown into the city.

He'd be so overstimulated! And his cousin Pete is savoring every single second of corrupting his sweet doofy cousin Coleslaw.

Although I disagree about Pete being a man. Pete's still a boy too. Totally emotionally stunted at such a young age. Has he ever felt safe? Picture him out visiting his cousin on the farm - oooo!!!! City slicker mouse - totally clueless and horrified each time he steps in a cow pie. Hiding out from the feds! Or out on bail. Or hiding for safety cuz some very dangerous mafia head's daughter just overdosed on his drug.

Hey Pete, can you help me collect some honey today? Dad's not feeling so hot this morning and it's a two man job. And after that I need help clearing up all the fallen limbs from that storm last night. You know, the storm that sent you crying to the basement like a little girl?

Dude, I wasn't crying.

But you were close. I'd never seen a grown man tremble cuz of a thunderstorm before. Mom should've sung "some of my favorite things" to calm you down.

Asshole! A branch broke the window at 2am. Of course I was shaking. Christ! Lay off! I wasn't the only person a bit stressed last night.

Yeah alright. I do need a hand today. The creek swelled up and the erosion pulled down a couple trees. We gotta haul them out before they do some damage to the rest of the creek.

You call this a creek? Looks like a fucking river!

Put on your waders and wellies, and quit your whining. Get your uptight ass in here and actually make that gym membership worth it. You're such a baby.

Oh fuck you. I'm coming.

Watch that first step!!!

FUCK!!!!

Yeah. It's a doozy!

What do you think @georgiapeach30513 ??? Once I started looking for Pete Brenner getting attention from his wife or soon to be wife in the pink dress, I began to get carried away! Still couldn't find it. But I was picturing Cole getting an unsolicited lap dance.

Chris went from playing Cole turner farm boy to Pete Brenner, only he can do this

Went from an asthmatic simp, to someone who just uses you for body.

From a boy…to a man

[butmakeitgayblog]

Bruh? Girl, you from the south by any chance? The only ppl I know that use that spelling is from down here, haha. Anyway, you're right our parents didn't give a shit about what we do or watch back then. That last part of your au: (God you fucking hate her. Especially when you take a moment to lick the taste of her from your lips.) reminded me so much of the scene where she says "down boy". SMG was such a fuckin tease I love it. Lets not forget "You can put it anywhere".

No actually, midwest! Cornfield and soybean country 🥴 but yeah no back in the day parents gave no fucks about we watched. It was very much "wow mom that movie was really scary" "well I betcha won't watch that again now will you" energy and she was right

And ya know what, since you brought it up, might as well write the bet

////////

You stand over her with an expectant grin, relishing in the high of your newly formed plans.

She looks up at you from where she'd read the article with blank stoney silence.

And then promptly dissolves into a fit of laughter.

"What exactly is so funny?"

"You," she sighs as her chuckles taper off and absently tosses aside your phone. "You're delusional, Clarke."

"How so?"

"This girl is entirely out of your depth."

"No one is out of my depth," you correct as you plant a knee on either side of her hips and settle into her lap. "Show me where I've failed."

You feel hot at the way her hands slide along your thighs. Even more so when a delicate brow flicks up in challenge. "Anyone with an IQ beyond the double digits, I'm sure," she taunts as her touch lingers. "But we're talking Ivy League here. And not a legacy twit."

"And?"

"And," Lexa stresses as she grabs two handfuls of your ass to pull you firmly into the toned plain of her stomach. "And she has a boyfriend."

You hum and rest your arms on her shoulders and give a light roll of your hips. "Yeah. With the biggest dick she's never seen."

The roll of her eyes makes you smile.

"Please, Clarke. She talks like Mary fucking Poppins. She said her favorite author was Sylvia Plath with a straight face, and sounds like a Pride and Prejudice fan's wet dream. I mean she wore a cardigan to an Instagram photoshoot for Christ's sake."

You make a sound of surprise when you're lifted off of her and set to the side on your back. But she's on you in an instant, hands bracing on either side of your head as she looms over you like a lethal hunter and it's prey.

"Girls like that don't fall for your shit. You don't stand a chance."

The warm sweetness of her breath across your face is almost enough to have you do something she'd probably make you regret.

Almost.

"Would you care to make a wager on that?"

That insufferable fucking eyebrow flits up yet again.

She's quiet for longer than you'd expected and you hate it because it means her mind is straying somewhere dangerous. And sure enough when those ridiculously full lips stretch into a pleased smile, you know this probably isn't going anywhere you'll like.

"Alright," she says with impish satisfaction as she leans down to mouth wet kisses along your neck. "If you lose... you give me that hot little car of yours."

You immediately shove her backwards and sit up, scowling as she lands in a fit of giggles against the arm of the couch.

She knows what that car means to you.

It was the only thing your mother bothered to leave you before she'd left. It had been a wedding gift from your grandfather and since she'd been purging her life of all things Griffin, she'd signed it over to your father in the divorce with strict instructions that it be yours on your sixteenth birthday.

Happy fucking birthday.

But still, you told yourself you'd kept it out of sheer spite.

And this little bitch knew it.

"Why would I ever give you my car?" you ask through her dying laughter. "You don't even drive."

"Not the point," Lexa sighs and twists a lock of hair around her fingertips. "I want it. I'd look so hot in it, it'd be worth the parking tickets alone."

You can't truthfully say you disagree.

"And what exactly would I get if I win?" you scoff instead. "You have nothing that even compares to that."

The look she gives you sends shivers up your spine.

You watch her hands dance over her collarbones and caress the sides of her breast. "If you win," Lexa all but whispers, "I'll give you what you've been obsessing over since our parents got married."

You meet her eyes and hate how green they look in the late afternoon sun that slides through the penthouse's second floor windows.

"You're so full of yourself, Lexa."

"Oh spare me," she dismisses you without even having the courtesy to shake her head. "You're a spoiled brat who practically turns chartreuse at the mere thought of things you can't have."

She sits up and crowds into your space. Balances herself with one hand on the back of the cramped tuxedo coach, the other on the strip of cushion between your thighs.

"And I'm the one thing you truly cannot have... without earning it." You swallow at how close she is. How soft her voice is compared to the fire raging in her stare. "So. Should you succeed... you fuck her... and I'll fuck you. That simple."

You consider it for all of two seconds before pushing up from your seat fast enough to have her yanking back. "Not worth it," you call over your shoulder on your way to your room.

"I'll let you top."

That makes you freeze in the doorway.

You're glad you're facing away from her because you can only imagine her reaction to the way you have to bite your lip.

You wheel around and look at her with narrowed eyes.

"Expound."

Long bare legs cross at the knee as Lexa relaxes back, her arms going wide and resting along the full length of the couch.

Her smile is as indulgent as it is predatory when she speaks. "I don't generally allow girls to have me that way. I think it's safe to say you've heard that all too well," she hums. "But if you win... A prize is a prize, Clarke."

"And what if I want to--"

"One full night," she cuts you off, her face turning to the shrewd business woman of her late father's boardroom you've only heard about in passing. "Anything you want. You can fuck me however you want, anywhere you want, as many times as you want. Deal?"

You wag your brow just to be a shit.

"Oh that ass is mine." You stride over and take her hand in a firm shake and return her pleased grin. "You got yourself a bet, baby."

You move to step away but she doesn't let go, instead tightens her grip and stares you down.

"As long as I get a taste too."

It's damn near enough to make you sweat through your suit.

"We'll see when the time comes."

She lets out a single humorless laugh but releases you when you pull back.

"If the time comes," Lexa calls after you. "Happy hunting, Clarke."

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Second Miracle at Cana (John 4:43-54)

"Once more he visited Cana in Galilee, where he had turned the water into wine. And there was a certain royal official whose son lay sick at Capernaum." After leaving Sychar, Jesus seems to have gone at once to Cana. He never rested. When His work was done in one place He hastened to another. He was never in a hurry, never flustered, never feverish in His haste - but He never loitered nor lost a moment's time. If we keep our heart at peace, and live according to God's laws, there is little danger of our injuring our health by too much work. Then, even if duty demands serious toil and self-denying labor - it is Christ like not to withhold ourselves from it. "For whoever will save his life - shall lose it." Taking too good care of oneself - is the way to make the least of one's life.

Jesus was no exception to the well-known rule that "A prophet has no honor in his own country." It is a common saying that no man is a hero to his own servant. Those who live in familiar relations with the great or the good, are the least likely to recognize the elements of greatness or goodness in them. Many of the men whose names shine in the galaxy of fame, and whose work lives in the world with undying influence - had little honor from those among whom they walked, and perhaps would have little honor today if they were to return and live in the old relationships. We often fail to recognize the true excellence of our best friends, while they stay with us. It is not until she is gone out of a home - that a mother's real value is appreciated. The same is true of each member of the household and of each friend upon whom we lean much, and whose life is a great deal to us. Jesus walked among the people in Judea, taught, produced His miracles, and lived out His sweet, beautiful life of love in their midst - but they failed to recognize the Messiah in Him. "He was in the world, and the world was made by Him - and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own - and His own received Him not" (1:10, 11). We are in danger in these very days of failing to appreciate the blessings of Christianity, because they are so familiar to us.

Sickness and suffering are everywhere. No one is exempt from them. Even the mansions of the noble are not sheltered from the invasions of disease. There is no charm in wealth or rank or power - to keep fever away. Into the home of this nobleman suffering came. It was only a child, too, who was sick. Even to the youngest, illness comes - as well as to the old.

Trouble often sends to Christ, those who would not have gone - if the trouble had not touched them. It was the sickness of the nobleman's child, that sent him to Jesus. He had heard of the great Healer - but probably had never sought Him, nor even thought of seeking Him. But when his child was stricken down and seemed about to die - he remembered what he had heard about Jesus that He was able to heal the sick and even bring back to life those who were near death. So this great man hastened away all the long distance to Cana - to find this Healer. We all owe far more than we know to our troubles. We do not recognize our need of divine help - until we are in some sore distress when human help can do nothing for us. Then we turn to God. If we never had a sense of sinfulness, we would never seek Christ as our Savior. If we never realized our powerlessness in the midst of temptation, we would never turn to Christ as our helper. Indeed, the Bible becomes a new book to us - in times of trouble. Many of the best things in it we never would have found - had it not been for some great need which made their meaning real to us. We do not turn with our heart's cravings to God - until we realize the insufficiency of this world's friendships and blessings.

The child seemed about to die. The record says "he was at the point of death." The point of death is a point to which all of us must come sometime in our life. We must pass through this world along many different ways - but every one of us comes at last to the point of death. All earthly roads pass that way. No matter how bright the path is on which our feet are now walking, somewhere on it, perhaps far away yet, perhaps closer than we think - awaits this point of death. We should learn to live so that if at any sudden hour we find ourselves facing death - we would not be troubled nor disturbed.

In this nobleman's earnest pleading we have a revelation of a father's heart. He pleaded, "Come down before my child dies!" We do not realize the value of father - love as an impulse in this world. The secret which sends thousands of men every day to their tasks, their struggles, their heroisms - is back in the homes from which they come, where children stay. We idealize mother - love, not overmuch - but perhaps sometimes to the exclusion or at least to the forgetting of father-love, which has scarcely a less powerful motive in the inspiring of the noble things of human life. The sickness of a child sent this nobleman miles away to plead with Christ.

There was a great faith also in the father's heart - he believed that Jesus could save his child's life. He seems not to have thought, however, that even the Master, with all His power, could do anything without journeying all the way to his home. He thought the Healer's presence necessary to the putting forth of His power. So he insisted on having Jesus go with him to his home, where his child lay dying.

Jesus recognized the father's faith and assured him at once that his child would recover. "You may go. Your son will live." More than twenty miles off the sick boy lay - but the power of Jesus healed him there just as easily as if He had been at the bedside. The word of power flew through the air all that long distance like an electric flash, and on his couch of pain, the suffering child suddenly felt a thrill of health. A moment later, and the fever was entirely gone and the child was altogether well. This miracle should have much comfort for us. We cannot now bring Christ in bodily presence to the room where our loved one is lying - but we can pray to Him, and He can heal our friend just as easily from His heavenly home - as if He were present where he lies. We can also ask God to bless our friend twenty miles away from us, or a thousand miles away - and He can do it just as easily as if the friend were close by our side when we pray.

The father hastened home, and on the way learned that his request had been granted. "While he was still on the way, his servants met him with the news that his boy was living." Ever after that day, when he looked upon this child, the father would remember that his boy's spared life, was an answer to a prayer. The child would always know, too, that he was living in the world - because his father had thought about him one day when he was very sick, and had gone all the way to Cana to speak to Jesus on his behalf. Children do not know how many blessings they are enjoying, because their parents, teachers, pastors, and other friends have gone on errands to Christ for them, in the days of their need.

The manner of the answer to this nobleman's prayer made a deep impression on the father. He compared the time and learned that the beginning of the child's recovery, was at the very moment when Jesus had said that the boy would live. He believed before - now his faith was confirmed. He found it just as the Master had said it would be. There were many other cases in which the words of Jesus were put to the test at once - and proved to be exactly true. He told the woman of Samaria all about her past life. He told Peter that the coin would be in the fish's mouth with which to pay the temple tax. He told the disciples they would find a colt tied, and rehearsed the conversation that would take place with the owner - and it all came out just as He said it would. He told the disciples, again, that they would meet a man bearing a pitcher of water, who would conduct them to the guest room; and the words came true.

From these illustrations in common life, we learn that every word of Christ will be found to be true. He promised salvation and eternal life to those who will believe on Him, and everyone who believes and commits his life to Him - will find this promise fulfilled. He said that in His Father's house are many mansions, and that He will come again, to receive to Himself each believer; we shall find this word true. When we pass into the valley of the shadows, we shall find ourselves in the personal care of Christ, and shall be led by Him home, to enter the mansion which He has been preparing for us.

[cesar-ramon]

This world, he was coming to realize, was vast. All too quickly had Joss opened doors to things in his mind that Cesar frankly would have been happy to have kept closed for the rest of his life. Things like curses and hexes were terrifying on their own in everyday superstition, but he had grown up with all kinds of silly practices being done on him and his family to ward off the evil eye or sickness — he knew it all to be silly stuff from the old world that the previous generation couldnt’ let go, as did everyone else. To think that in this day and age spitting somewhere or some herb or leaf was actually going to protect you from the boogeyman was just plain dumb —- but then again, so was the idea that in this day and age, people were still believing in witches and hunting them. He supposed, seeing that he was talking to a ghost, it wasn’t that hard to believe after all. Still, Cesar was fifty-fifty on being insane and not psychic, and the way things were looking, the man found himself leaning towards hoping he was crazy.

���Jesus Christ…” He found himself muttering as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Animal sacrifice, candles, buried jars… What was next? “ You gonna tell me next that I should put salt at the doors and windows too? We’re in the voodoo capital of the country, can you at least pretend like some of this is the mambo jumbo I thought it was so my head doesn’t implode? This is a lot for one day!” He groaned, slouching further into the seat before he took another drag.

He would have presumed by now that he was no stranger to fear, but the reality was that Cesar had barely scratched the surface, and that in and of itself was a horrifying realization. To understand this world was to layer more danger on top of the already dangerous world he lived in. He found himself longing for the days where a rogue or crooked cop or being the victim of a stray bullet in a drive-by or drug deal gone wrong were biggest worries. 

He was so busy being wrapped up in his paranoia that Joss and her smart ass remarks almost went over his head. Almost.

“Will you can it for five minutes so I can at least process all this?” He snapped. He instantly regretted it, if only for the sake that she was …well, dead. Still, he felt annoyed. Here he was trying to accept all this supernatural stuff and she was making jokes. “ Look, I’m sorry, I really am, okay, but this… All this? This is a whole hell of a lot for one day. I mean I didn’t even have a proper breakfast this morning. Not long ago my biggest worry was getting a gig to cover the rent and bills and now I find out that at any given moment the witchfinder general and the other puritans are gonna bust through the door and tell me that I hath sinned and drag me off to be burned or something. I don’t wanna deal with any of this right now. No spells, no hunting anything, no…candles, just…. I just need a freaking moment.” He stammered, nervously taking another drag from the almost burnt off cigarette.

After a long pause, the man looked at her. Pretty girl, sweet honey-colored eyes, a dimpled smile… and yet he could see right through her. It was terrifying. It reminded him that at any moment, he could be gone. He could just die for a number of reasons, and hardly anyone would care or miss him. He would be unknown — a failed musician, no kids, not goals achieved at all… Would anyone ever remember his name?

“Cesar.” He said after a long pause. “ My name is Cesar.” 

“No burning candles is a thing.” She pointed a finger out from under its crossed position. “And animal sacrifices, too, to be honest. Different strokes for different folks.” Joss looked off into the distance for a few moments then resumed when she caught the thought in passing. “You can burn a candle to make contact with spirits, burn one for love, burn a candle to do harm on someone. Hexes and curses those are real, too. Like don’t touch any buried jars on land or in water, that sort of thing.”

“Usually the more accessible something is means it’s a surface level spell. It’s different for everyone but in my practice it’s a lot of open communication with ancestors, lost loved ones, sometimes friends or angels, “spirit team”, whatever.“

It felt like it the first time she’d taken him seriously. “Yeah, of course.” There was hunters for every supernatural creature, so she answered it with the same sentiment. Joss didn’t have the heart to tell him that hunters were the least scariest thing out there, so she left well enough alone. This was enough for one day. “They’re usually from a long line of other hunters, kind of like a family business thing. Most of them hunt with the goal of total extinction in mind but I guess they half-assed it with me. Maybe they wanted something, I don’t know.”

She laughed, smiling back at someone who seemed aghast to hear the horrors of the supernatural world to a mirror of settled contentment. It felt so commonplace to her now that his reaction made her almost feel bad for him. “I’m racist but you just spoke Spanish..right..” She nodded playfully with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, what’s your first name? I’d love to be proven wrong, in the rare instance that ever happens.”

Her eyes softened for a second, briefly moved by his sympathies, maybe because this time it didn’t feel so generic. “It’s fine. At least it can’t get any worse.” She smacked her tongue against her teeth, brows raising as she sighed it off, trying to convey a brief imitation of disdain. “Well act sorrier than you look. I’m not above a little lying for the sake of my vanity.” Joss made a face at him. “How bad do I need to make you feel before I can convince you to do a little spell with me?”

[novelconcepts]

FOUND IT!!! Consider this an official ask for 3 and 14 combined! #wheee

smiling into a kiss and play wrestling

Having a best friend again is strange. She’d gone so long imagining the phrase as a sort of neon sign staked firmly in the past: Best Friend, already spoken for. Eddie had always been it; no other volunteers need apply. 

But Eddie’s gone now, out of her life, living out wherever his might go in another country altogether, and Dani finds the position has--slowly, without really planning for it--been filled once more. Not that she planned for it. Not that could ever could have. 

She didn’t come to Bly looking for Jamie, and if you’d told her the gardener who refused to so much as meet her eyes, much less introduce herself, would become the most important person in her life--well. Life is full of surprises.

There is so little of Eddie in Jamie, she sometimes wonders how both could have occupied the same shape in her heart. Sometimes wonders how Eddie--who prized cleanliness, routine work hours, dinners at his mother’s once a week--would look at Jamie, if he could see her. Jamie, all tousled hair, happiest with a cigarette between her teeth and both hands buried in soil. Jamie, who has never kept a nine-to-five, never craved Sunday afternoons with her parents, never looks at Dani like she expects firm posture, bright smile, neat clothes. 

They couldn’t possibly be more different--and yet, somehow, Jamie is her best friend. Unfair to think it, maybe, but she might be the best friend Dani’s ever had. Her sense of humor is dark, her vocabulary wallpapered with curse words and shorn letters; she smells of nicotine and sunscreen, dresses in wrinkled flannels and torn jeans. Where Eddie looped an arm around her shoulders, Jamie nudges her with bony elbows; where Eddie pressed his lips to her temple, Jamie leans carefully away. Different, in every measure. 

And it isn’t that she likes Jamie more. That wouldn’t be fair--not after so many years in Eddie’s company. It’s just that when Jamie looks at her, eyes bright, dirt smudged on one cheek, sometimes, she feels...

“You’re thinking,” Jamie observes. She doesn’t say it the way Eddie would--the way he always pointed out when she was clenching her fist under the table, or picking at her nails, his voice edged with concern bordering on condescension. Her voice is light, her lips curved in a small smile. 

Eddie never quite smiled at her like that. Or, if he did, it didn't pluck the same chord in her stomach. Not that that matters. Not that that affects the sincerity of friendship. 

Not that it’s making her feel weirdly flushed this afternoon. 

“Am I not allowed to think?” she asks. The sun, she thinks, is responsible for the goofy smile on her face. The heat of the day, which stretches on and on the way only early July knows how.

“Not arguing,” Jamie says. “One of us ought to.”

She’s on her knees, pulling weeds, her face shining with sweat. There’s something about days like this--afternoons where the kids are occupied helping Owen bake cookies, leaving Dani to nurse a glass of water and pleasantly-meandering conversation--that feels almost too good to be allowed. Eddie would have wanted to do something with a day like this: hike, or clear up the yard, or go visit family. 

Jamie, on the other hand, pushes to her feet and surveys the bed she’s spent all day working. “Think that’s good enough for a break. Here, budge over.”

Dani obediently scoots to the edge of her seat, amused when Jamie flops down half in her lap. A year of working at the manor, and Jamie’s gone from a woman who couldn’t make eye contact to save her life to this: gangly limbs tossed haphazardly over Dani’s, sweat-slick skin sticking where it lands against Dani’s shoulder. It’s too hot for cozying up like this, but she can’t seem to convince herself to push Jamie away. 

“There,” Jamie sighs, tilting her head back against the plastic of the lawn chair. “Christ, feels good just to breathe.”

“You breathe,” Dani says, “and I’ll think. Together, we make an almost-functional human being.”

“Almost,” Jamie says wryly. Her hand loops around Dani’s, teasing the sweating glass out of her grip long enough to take a sip. Dani nudges her. 

“Could get you one of your own, if you ever learned to ask politely.”

“Don’t like me polite,” Jamie says with a shrug. “My brand is prickly-yet-charming, and we both know I’m your favorite for it.”

“Technically,” Dani corrects, “Flora is my favorite. Mainly because she doesn’t make me remind her to say please.”

“Please,” Jamie says without missing a beat, “keep pretending you aren’t captivated by my winning personality.”

Dani laughs. “Oh, is that what I am?”

“Mm.” Jamie takes another sip, reaches over her to set the glass down on the table, closes her eyes. “S’what you were all pensive about just now, I’m sure. How entranced you are with my witty banter.”

“Entranced,” Dani repeats.

“Beguiled. Mesmerized. Drunk with adoration.” Jamie’s face is pink, a bead of sweat neatly lining her upper lip. Dani only realizes she’s staring a fortunate beat before Jamie rolls her head to the left, peering at her with lazy amusement. “Go on. Tell me how much you love me.”

“Love how ridiculous you can be, maybe.” And how sweet, and how unquestioningly soft, though she doesn’t see a need to put that into words--or a way to do it without sounding entirely out of her head. The heat, she thinks, is absolutely getting to her. 

It’s the heat, making her want suddenly to slide an arm between the plastic back of the chair and the cotton of Jamie’s tank top, pulling her even closer. The heat, making her want to displace the normal back-and-forth ease of friendship with something else entirely. 

She’s had a best friend before. She’s never quite wanted to do with Eddie what she is, more and more, thinking about with Jamie curled up beside her. 

Distract, she thinks, because Jamie is still watching her with that half-lidded expression she gets when the sun is particularly bright, the day’s work has been well-tended, and Dani’s shoulder is a cushion beneath her head. More and more, it’s been feeling like a dangerous sort of moment, Jamie’s face lingering near the crook of her neck. Jamie’s breath coasting down the neckline of her dress. Jamie’s smile sweeter than should be allowed, given the grumpy way she slouches around the grounds. 

“Thinking,” Jamie says, her voice almost soft. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s not illegal.”

“Is,” Jamie says, “if you’re gonna just stare at me all googly-eyed while you do it. C’mon, what gives? Is today some holiday I’ve forgotten?” She sits up a little straighter, her face comic in its sudden concern. “Shit, Poppins, it’s not your birthday.”

She almost wants to say it is, just to watch Jamie turn fascinating new shades of maroon. “No--just--it’s hot.”

Jamie sags back with palpable relief. Her arm is freckled, Dani notices, beyond the norm; the summer is drawing all sorts of secrets from her skin, and it’s suddenly painfully tempting, the urge to trace her nail along these newfound constellations. 

Distract, she thinks again, more urgently this time. Without thinking it through, without considering the consequences, she dips two fingers into the glass of water and flicks the still-cool moisture directly into Jamie’s face. 

Jamie, to her credit, hardly jumps. She’s just blinking at Dani like their conversation has taken an unanticipated left turn into another language, water dripping from the end of her nose. 

“Okay,” she says. “If that’s how we’re playing it.”

Her arm reaches across without hesitation, replicating Dani’s playbook: two fingers dipped, flicked, landing back in her lap as Dani sputters. 

“You got me in the eye.”

“Cooled you off, though?” Jamie asks, almost politely. Dani laughs, and suddenly, it’s war. There’s barely enough room on the chair for the both of them to sit like adults, much less to squirm around, hips knocking, legs tangled up as the remainder of the glass finds its way--droplet by droplet--into Jamie’s face, down Dani’s neck, sometimes missing entirely and disappearing into the sizzling summer air. 

Dani is ultimately the victor, an upset decided when she grasps the glass--now containing maybe two inches of water--and upends it directly over Jamie’s head. She’s laughing almost too hard to breathe, particularly when Jamie gives a firm shake of her hair, looking like a rumpled dog after a bath.

“That,” Jamie says in a low, dangerous tone, “cannot stand.”

She’s up before Dani can stop her, sprinting toward the garden hose uncoiled in the grass. Dani twists in her seat, knees drawn up to her chest, arms extended.

“Don’t you dare!”

“All’s fair,” Jamie says, almost apologetically, depressing the trigger. 

They are, Dani notes somewhere in the back of her mind, full-grown adult women. They are thirty years old, gainfully employed, responsible for the upkeep of an entire house and the well-being of two small children. 

They are also now chasing one another across the lawn, Dani sopping wet, Jamie laughing so hard she nearly trips over her own feet taking a corner too fast. The hose is growing more and more tangled by the minute as she dashes in a zig-zag pattern, periodically firing a jet of water over her shoulder, and Dani has no prayer of catching up--not with her shoes squelching, slipping on wet grass, her lungs clenched around a soundless jag of laughter. 

Adults, she thinks, as Jamie makes the insurmountable error of trying to bolt past her like a quarterback dodging a tackle; she makes a successful leap over the tangled hose, but forgets at the last second to factor in the edge of the lawn chair. Dani has her around the middle before she can dart out of reach, the both of them tumbling over in a cackling heap of grass clippings, puddled hose water, freckled limbs. 

They’re rolling, shouting wordlessly around giggles, Dani struggling to pry the hose out of Jamie’s hands. It’s harder than it looks; Jamie is small, but strong in an annoyingly wiry sort of way. Even when Dani manages to get her onto her back, the water is inescapable, dousing in short jets across her chest, down her arms, pooling awkwardly between them. 

“You are,” she laughs, “a child.”

“Could a child do this?” Jamie replies, jerking upward at the hips with unexpected force. Dani rocks up with her, one hand grasping the sodden front of Jamie’s shirt for balance, and drops back down without budging from her seat. Jamie releases an oof as her back makes rough contact with the ground again, giggling too hard to successfully shove Dani over.

“Yes, actually, I think a child would be exactly that effective,” Dani informs her. Her body has never felt quite this alive, her muscles aching with the effort of an unplanned run. Jamie, chest heaving for breath, is practically glowing. 

“Just want to remind you,” Jamie says, “you did start this.”

“Does that mean I win?” If she hasn’t, she can’t imagine it would feel any better than this: straddling Jamie’s hips in the soft grass, cool water seeping down her back, her dress sticking pleasantly to warm skin. Jamie allows the hose to drop from her grip at last, her head tipped back, eyes closed.

“Call it a draw.”

“What if I wanted to win?” She slides a hand up without thinking, pinning Jamie by the wrist before she can decide to take up her watery weapon again. Jamie draws a deep breath, face flushed, grinning. 

“Guess you’d have to work harder for it.”

Children, Dani thinks--but suddenly, it doesn’t feel childish anymore. Suddenly, she’s overly aware of her dress rucked high around her thighs, of how short Jamie’s shorts really are, how her body is considerably less obscured than usual with her shirt plastered to her frame. Suddenly, she’s aware of Jamie’s hand flexing against the grass, pinned beside her head with a loose enough grip to break--though Jamie isn’t breaking it. Isn’t even trying.

Jamie is, instead, gazing up at her with hair mussed, eyes bright. Jamie, whose free hand is sliding up to rest along the curve of Dani’s hip. 

She’s Dani’s best friend, like he was, but this doesn’t feel like it belongs in the same category as late-night stories swapped by the fire, or letting each other steal the vegetables the other doesn’t care for off their plate. This feels like a category all its own: the way Jamie licks her lips as Dani’s head lowers, the way Dani’s fingers graze the freckles painting her wrist on the way up to notching her palm against Jamie’s. 

Her hair is wet, and Jamie’s face is sweaty, and there’s so little romance to the whole picture, it takes her by surprise. She’s always thought there should be talking before a thing like this, at least--a decision made on equal footing. 

“I don’t have to,” she says, even as Jamie is saying, “Do you want to?”

Children would laugh again, go back to wrestling, go back to how it all felt just a few minutes before. They are not, Dani notes as she lowers her head--as Jamie shifts up at the shoulders to meet her--children. 

She’s hyper-aware of all of it now: the sun beating against her shoulders, the hand Jamie is using to grip the back of her dress, the exact angle of Jamie’s mouth parting beneath her own. Her tongue is gentle, brushing Jamie’s, and the sound Jamie makes into her is anything but. 

She’s smiling, she realizes, so hard, it hurts--that deep, wonderful hurt of laughing too hard for too long, of slipping in the grass and landing in a heap with someone who couldn’t help catching her on the way down. She’s grinning into Jamie even as she’s kissing her, even as she’s letting her body stretch out to press Jamie more firmly against the damp ground. 

And Jamie, fingers curled between her own, making soft sounds of appreciation into the kiss, is grinning right back. 

“This was your plan all along,” she accuses, brushing the hair from Dani’s eyes when they break for a breath. “Awful lot of work, for a kiss.”

“All’s fair?” Dani suggests--and she genuinely, honestly cannot decide which she likes more: the way Jamie kisses, or the way Jamie kisses and laughs at the same time. All of it, she feels, goes a country mile beyond best friends. All of it goes a country mile beyond anything she could ever have dreamed up, walking away from him the way she did. 

It couldn’t possibly be more different.

[mint-moon25]

CHINESE - YEAR - OF - MONKEY -

5'9 FT - AGE 30 - BAEKHYUN EXO -

DRAGON - ME - 90% - OUR LOVE -

TEST - COMPATIBILITY - FUTURE -

ME - LIKE - BACON - BOTH 5'9 FT -

AGE 58 - BUT - LOOKS - AGE 16 -

IN - FUTURE - MUSCULAR ABS -

6 PACK - ABS - THIS - IS - ME & -

BAEKHYUN - MAY - PISCES -

LIKE - IU - BOTH - R - SAME -

SCARED - OF - SUNLIGHT 2 -

APRIL ARIES - LOVES NERD -

OR - TOUGH - GUY - BACON -

MY - COUSIN - V - BTS - YES -

TAEHYUNG KIM - BOTH ARE -

SCARED - OF HEIGHTS TOO -

MY - 6TH - WEDDING - WILL -

THAT - BE - CHINESE MALE -

LEAD - 'MS CUPID IN LOVE' -

OR - BAEKHYUN - I'M - NOT -

WORRIED - AT - ALL - BUT I -

AM - INTRODUCING - GUAN -

2 - RAINCO - BOTH - LOVE -

HOME - AND - CAN - SING -

BOTH - ONLY - 2 YRS - AGE -

DIFFERENCE - BOTH SAME -

JESUS - IS - LORD WILL BE -

GOING - 2 - BAYFRONT PARK -

WRITING - MY - FUTURE FOR -

ONLY - 3:10P EST - AND - I'M -

NOT - LEAVING - EARLY YES -

ANYMORE - 7P - IS - DARK IN -

MIAMI - NORTHERN - TRUST -

BLDG - LIGHTS UP AND - RED -

ITS - MOST - BEAUTIFUL WILL -

NO - LONGER - DEPEND - ON -

HIGH FRUCTOSE - FOOD AND -

DRINK - DISTRIBUTION 2 THE -

HOMELESS - HOBOS OF THE -

GOVERNMENT - CENTER PARK -

NW 2 AV - AND - NW 2 ST - I'M -

NEARER - CHILDREN's COURT -

HOUSE - ON - NW 3ST - YES AS -

CUBANS - AMERICANS - ON -

CEMENT - SLEEPING - AND -

ON - LAWN - MORE - THAN -

5 YRS - HOMELESS - DON'T -

WANT - 2 - WORK - HOBOS -

HIGH - FRUCTOSE - CORN -

SYRUP - SODAS - 100 CAL -

AND - MORE - SWEETS - ALL -

KEEP - THEM - ENDS - THEIR -

MEMORY - WHAT - DAY - IT IS -

THEIR - AGE - ENDS LEARN'G -

CAN'T - TYPE - THEY WANT 2 -

BEG - 4 - FOOD - SLEEP - ON -

CEMENT - WIND - IS - THEIR -

AIR CONDITIONING - RAIN IS -

THEIR - SHOWER - THEY USE -

SOAP - PUBLIC - SCHOOL -

GRADS - MAYBE - BUMS -

WHO - WON'T - WORK AS -

COLLEGE - GRADS ALSO -

10 YRS - FR - NOW - STILL -

THERE - MANY ARE 5 YRS -

AND - MORE - THERE 1 YR -

OR - MORE - BLKS - HISPANICS -

THIEVES - MANY - OF - THEM 2 -

BLK - FEMALES - CUBA - AND -

FRENCH - COUNTRIES - THEY -

ARE - BLK - MALES - HENS - R -

MURDERED - BY - THEM THEN -

THEY - EAT - WITHOUT - SALT -

FEMALE - MIAMI - POLICE XO -

LIKE - KNIVES - CUTTING THE -

HEADS OF - HENS ROOSTERS -

AS - BULLIMICS - THEY - EAT -

THESE - WILDLIFE - AFTER -

STABBING - AND - CUTTING -

THEIR HEADS - AMERICANS -

CUBANS - MURDERERS AND -

ROBBERS - ROOSTERS - ARE -

MURDERED - THE - WORLD's -

FIRST - CLOCKS - AT - 5A YES -

NOW - EATEN - BY - BLACKS -

HISPANICS - CUBANS - USA -

AS - HOMELESS - HOBOS AS -

WE - LEAVE - HAITI - CUBA -

PUERTO RICO - POOR BLKS -

FR - FRENCH - SPEAKING -

COUNTRIES - BLKS DON'T -

SAY - 'FOOD' - 2 - ANYONE -

THEY - JUST - GRAD - AND -

DON'T - SAY - THANKS TOO -

GLAD - THESE - CHURCHES -

GIVE - HIGH - FRUCTOSE - 4 -

THEY - EAT - DRINK - WHAT -

THEY - GIVE - WHILE - WE -

HAVE - THE - MIND OF XO -

CHRIST - JESUS - I'M NOT -

LEAVING - EARLY - BRINGING -

FOOD - DRINK - WITH - ME - 4 -

NIGHT - IS - BEAUTIFUL - IN -

MIAMI - FLORIDA - AND I'M -

NOT - HURRYING - ANYMORE -

GOD - IS - OUR - PROVIDER 4 -

HE - GAVE - FOOD - IN - THE -

DESERT - 2 - HIS PROPHETS -

GOD - OUR - DAILY - BREAD -

WILL - FEED - ME - A - TRUE -

TITHER - 10% - GIVER - ALSO -

OF - OFFERINGS - CHEERFUL -

GIVER - AS - FOREIGNERS - THE -

BIBLE - WE - WILL - BECOME XO -

STRONGER - AND - STRONGER -

WHILE - LOCALS - WILL GROW -

WEAKER - AND - WEAKER - TO -

RULE - AND - REIGN - IN - THIS -

LIFE - EATING - DRINKING - SO -

NO - LONGER - NEEDY - OF -

CHURCH - FOOD - WITH XO -

HUGE - CALORIES - AND FL -

DANGEROUS - 4 - OUR MINDS -

AND - HEALTHS - BEING - FAT -

LIKE - CHURCH - GOERS - YES -

GOD - BLESS - HIS - MAJESTY -

THE - KING - JOLLY ENGLAND

[nameless-goddess94]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝕯𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖞

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝕱𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖙:

General Symbols-

Growing/Fresh:

- Youth

- Temptation

- Sensuality

- Fertility

- Prosperity

- Abundance

- Frutis of Labor

- Wealth

- Health

- Sweet Disposition

Rotting:

- Old Age

- Spoiled Innocence

- Bitter Endings to an Affair

- Corruption

- Financial Loss

- Failed Efforts

- Missed Opportunities

- Deterioration of Health

𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖘:

Sin of woman, downfall of man. Religious connections to Adam and Eve and a representative of knowledge both forbidden and sacred. This means it can also represent female liberation, independent thought, spiritual soul searching and self discovery. Also symbolic of the relationship between humans and nature, and the inherited desire to survive, as well as the ability to sustain off the land. Apples versatility make them good metaphors for adaptability, while the trees remind us that good things are bound to come with hard work and patience. Going back to knowledge apples are also a symbol of teaching, guidance and the cultivation of the next generation. Since apples are found in most cultures, and the trees bare fruit for generations, they can also be a nod to heritage.

𝕭𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖆:

Phallic symbol. Strong sexual desire. Can also represent humor and happiness due to their yellow color as well as their history being used as a comedic prop (banana peel); sometimes a suggestion to laugh at yourself. Bananas can represent the odd and strange as well as the surreal. There is a dark side to this symbol however. Bananas can represent male entitlement and patriarchy. Their historical ties to politics and business can elude to racial oppression, political strife, blatant consumerism and greed; as well as plain insanity or chaos.

𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 :

Blackberries are strange in that they can represent both beauty and ugliness, sometimes separately- and sometimes simultaneously. The deep color of the blackberry has been used to represent the blood of saints and martyrs, and therefore can elude to a necessary sacrafice, heavy responsibilities, or even trial and tribulation. On the flipside, martyrdom can also elude to scapegoating, unnecessary stress or spreading oneself too thin. Despite their connection with the sacred, blackberries can also be a symbol of the devil and may hold connotations of temptation, arrogance and empty promises. In this sense, depending on one's view point, they can also be bad omens, symbols of bad luck and even curses.

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

Blueberries are representative of comfort, wholesome memories and warmth. Since blueberries are often portrayed in rural dishes, a blueberry can represent traditional values, family, and connectivity with nature. Blueberries often hint at nostalgia or yearning for a time since passed. There is a bitterness to blueberries however, and their appearance can sometimes elude to things appearing better than they actually are. Blueberries can sometimes act as a lesson to look again and be discerning of certain situations, opportunities or promises.

𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

Representative of virginity, youth and purity the plucking, or destruction of a cherry in one's dreams can be a metaphor of loss of innocence, growing up, or sexual liberation. With their pit found directly in the center, and their juice being a deep red, cherries can represent both the beginning and end of a life- and therefore signify the start or closing of a chapter in one's life. Cherries can also act as a reminder to count one's blessings in life as they are sweet and have connections to the Christian idea of paradise.

𝕮𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

Seen around the harvesting season, cranberries often hold connotations of abundance. They also have strong links to themes of family and comfort. Being native to the North Americas, cranberries can act as a symbol for American wilderness and nature. For the untameable.

𝕱𝖎𝖌𝖘:

Figs have connotations in both past and modern cultures. The fig, just as with the apple, is a symbol for the fall of man, and therefore shares similar meanings of knowledge and temptation. However, unlike the apple, the fig also is a symbol for modesty as Adam and Eve tried to cover themselves with fig leaves. In literature figs have been used to represent ulterior motives and false pretenses, as seen in Shakespeare; as well as impropriety, ill wishes and ill regard. Figs have been used as a symbol of sex and, more specifically, vaginas throughout history.

𝕲𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖘:

Grapes allude to abundance and material wealth, especially when seen in a vineyard. They are also associated with political power, as seen in images where someone of great social stature is being fed grapes, as well as wrath. Since grapes are made into wine, they can also be a symbolism of frivolity, celebration and hedonism. Unless, that is, one were to take this symbol at a Catholic approach- in which case wine (and the grape) is the symbol of the blood of Christ and deep spirituality.

𝕷𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘:

Symbol of luxury and wealth. The old world perception of lemons held them up as exotic and strange, thus making them a symbol of unexplored lands; of travel and international commerce. Due to their connections to wealth, lemons are also a representation of economics. A peeled lemon can offer a lesson in these things, and can warn of pride and the dangers of materialism. Peeled lemons can also symbolize fleeting joy and pleasure, as well act as a memento mori. Due to this connection to death, lemons can also represent bitterness, sourness and disappointment.

𝕸𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖔:

Though mangos do not hold a lot of symbolism in western culture, they have a high place in eastern symbolism. Mangos are symbols of spirituality and higher thinking, once desired by Ganesh as a source of knowledge as well as the supposed meeting place for Buddha and his followers. Mangos are also symbols of sexual desire, lust, love and fertility, as well as royalty and wealth. It should also be said, there is folklore stating mango trees have the abiltiy to grant wishes.

𝕻𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘:

Peaches are symbols of immortality and youth. Good health, especially female health are suggested by the appearance of this fruit. Peaches also allude to female sexuality, the female body, as well as sweet and wholesome dispositions. Peaches are also connected to country living and are representations of down to earth thinking and humble a attitude. In Chinese culture, peaches and peach trees are said to be able to ward off demons, or may be utilized to ward of evil.

𝕻𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖘:

Plums share many of the same meanings as peaches in terms of being a protection against evil, and an object of desire. However plums are more a symbol of general temptation and impulse. Plums also represent the coming of spring, and thus overcoming adversity.

𝕻𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘:

Pomegranates are interesting in that they often represent beauty that can be found in darkness. In the story of Persephone and Hades, Persephone is enchanted by the fruit and it is sometimes portrayed as the reason she returns to the underworld, because of this pomegranates are also a symbol of loyalty. The story of Persephone also makes the pomegranate a symbol of time, and the passing of the seasons. They can also allude to friendships, childhood innocence and purity. Pomegranates have been identified as symbols of passion and young love. Biblically they have been used to represent success, goodness and wisdom.

𝕽𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

Raspberries are berries protected by thorns, which can be seen both as a warning of appearances or a metaphor for overcoming obstacles. In Christianity they are symbols of kindness and, in medieval times, were often used as an ingredient in love spells; thus making them a symbol for unspoken feelings, or desires.

𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

Due to its heart shape and red coloring, the strawberry is a symbol of true love, understanding and friendship. Due to their connection to love, strawberries can also be seen as a calling card for Venus, the goddess of love. They are symbols of perfection, purity and virtue dating as far back as medieval times. In modern culture strawberries have been used as symbols of goodness and simple pleasures, as well as harmony with nature.

𝖂𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓:

Due to its modern connection with childhood memories and summer, the watermelon is a symbol of growing up and nostalgia. It can also be a symbol of taking the bad with the good, as in order to enjoy a watermelon you must spit out the seeds. The seeds also can serve as a warning to be cautious while enjoying a good thing. Unfortunately, it must be said that watermelons (particularly in American culture) can be a representation of racism, harmful stereotypes, generational trauma and oppression.

[alphamales-rp]

"I don't know who the fuck you think you're talking to but I know it ain't me, Princess," one of the most dangerous men in the city (possibly the country) sighed, his voice slow and clearly disappointed as he scratched his brow with the nail of his thumb. He took a long, deep inhale of his smoke again, blowing the tainted air back out, the dark cloud circling his head for a second before dissipating. He said nothing when the other raised his hand and showed him the ring, though the sight of it absolutely disgusted him and that much he couldn't hide from his face. "You think I don't know about your little boy toy?" he asked like the other was being stupid, which, to Daimon, he was, "I know all about that little faggot you picked up. I also know where he works - hell, I even know where his mama lives," he grinned a wicked toothy grin, "If you're worried about him tying you down, say the word and we can get rid of the problem," he said matter-of-factly, taking a quick pass of his cigarette, "Listen, Princess, I understand you needed something to keep you warm while you were waitin' on me, but that's over now," he said as though it were obvious, "I mean, I don't fuckin' like it- don't get me wrong, if I see that shrimp dick sonovabitch I'll put a bullet between his eyes- ... but I can understand why you did what you did. You needed to survive out here," he scuffed his boot against the perfectly clean floor, "But Daddy's back and you don't gotta worry 'bout none of that anymore."

He sighed, "You know, I tried replacing you too," he admitted, "Tried it in there and hell even tried it out here once or twice the first day or two," he chewed his bottom lip, "But nobody's like you, babydoll," he said the most affectionate name he had for the other slowly, drawing it out more than he meaned to as he sighed. "Nobody tastes like you ... nobody feels like you ..." he shook his head with a groan, tossing the cigarette into the fireplace, walking slowly back over to Tommy, "Nobody ... nobody does the things you do," he said, a tinge of sadness to his voice, "Like- like how you used to press that sweet ass of yours against me if I was even an inch away from you when you were asleep," he remembered, "How you'd fix my food up real nice and ready for me," he smiled, now within reach of the other and reaching out to pull him closer, "How you'd give me that ... sweet ... sinful look and start pawin' at me when you wanted me to fuck your goddamn brains out," he murmured, moving Tommy's hand to his crotch, not fully erect but hard enough in it's impressive size to feel clearly through the jeans.

"Don't you remember how you used to wake me up, either sucking me off or ridin' me all real nice and slow? Like you were something outta a porno," he asked softly, a hand moving up to cup the side of the other's face. While it was true that he had trained and forced Tommy into doing that in the beginning and it was possible the other did it when he woke up first or didn't want to be woken himself by Damian forcing himself onto him and doing those things anyway. But, it had been five long years since he'd laid eyes on the other and Tommy hadn't changed a bit, if anything, seeing the other in all his glory only made Damian want him more. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, did you somehow get more beautiful out here," he breathed softly, his hand snaking up into the other's hair and without waiting for warning or permission he leaned in and kissed Tommy and the other's taste and smell made every emotion and every memory all come flowing back to him.

The kiss was slow, it was the kiss of two lovers reuniting; passionate and heated but slow and familiar. "Now," he said, finally breaking the kiss slowly, "I'll not say it again, baby- go pack your shit and let's go," he said, running his hands through the other's hair. He then paused as it seemed an idea occurred to him, "Actually- you know what, since your little fling doesn't get off work for like another hour—" he hummed, taking the other's face in one hand while the other reached down and grabbed him firmly by the ass, "Show me your little bedroom- I'm gonna fuck you on this limp prick's bed before we leave it behind. Feels only right that I claim my Princess again just like I did the very first time."

Even now, years later, Tommy still clearly remembered the exact words that the guard had spoken to him right after he'd endured being stripped down, having his cavities searched, all his possessions taken away and being put into a uniform that he would be stuck in for months, if not years. You're with Demon, kiddo. Keep your head down, and try not to start crying. You have my sympathy, boy. The sound of genuine concern in a damn officer's voice had Tommy entirely confused, but once he came face to face with his cellmate, the meaning behind those words became absolutely clear to him - or so he thought. The effect he had on Daimon almost immediately upon their meeting did not dawn on Tommy until later; the larger man was incredibly intimidating to the young criminal, and made him immdiately realize that his own misdeeds and accomplices were a joke compared to the things Demon was known for. The guard's warning would not have been needed, as Tommy was far from suicidal enough to resist the dynamic that was established in their cell from the first night. Daimon broke him in, and from that moment until Tommy's release he was the other's property, his bitch, his princess, his babydoll. A strange mix of complete control and domination, and a type of affection Tommy had never experienced before.

The extent to which Daimon not only protected, but claimed him wasn't even fully clear to him until he witnessed the other's calmness being challenged for once. A new arrival, unfortunately oblivious of the prison's hierarchy, had decided to ignore all warnings regarding the pretty blonde being Demon's property, getting handsy in the showers and trying to force Tommy to his knees - never had the latter seen such an outburst of violence as when Daimon caught a glimpse of the guy's actions and his blood was painting the shower tiles red moments later. The only reason they weren't separated that day was some other prisoner taking the fall, playing the scapegoat out of fear of Demon. It was that day when Tommy truly learned just why he was the princess of hell, why so many were willing to keep their hands off of him just to preserve the peace and safety of them all by keeping all hell from breaking loose.

But regardless of their dynamic, none of it mattered anymore - neither the weird sort of reverence and status Tommy had indirectly earned in prison through the effect he had on Daimon, nor the way he was fucked into a sweaty, exhausted mess every single night, sometimes more so than he felt he could handle. All of this duality had ended five years ago when the prison gates closed behind him. So to see Daimon here, in the flesh, felt unreal to say the least. And even more so to see the other act so damn casual about it, as if not a single day had passed. They were back in their cell, and Tommy wasn't Tommy. He was Daimon's bitch, his princess, a pussy to fuck and empty his balls into. And the other pranced into his home as if the place belonged to him, as if he owned it like he had owned him. "T-Thank you, Daimon", he blushed, trying his best to act like this was any other person, someone who had meant a lot to him in the past - but who was part of just that; the past. "Wait, did you..." Tommy swallowed hard, trying to act as if he didn't hear his former cellmate talk about fucking him as if not a day had passed. Trying not to look down at Daimon's crotch, which he'd never seen covered by anything other than a damn prison uniform. "I can't leave, Daimon, I... I live here now", he explained, knowing how insane it was that it needed explaining in the first place. "My boyfriend is gonna come home in an hour. My... fiancé, actually", he added, raising a hand to show the ring. Tommy immediately regretted even bringing him up; he knew very well just how possessive Daimon was, and the last thing he wanted was to endanger the man who loved him. ... The man he loved. Of course. "Please, you can't stay here... You gotta go!", he pleaded, knowing full well that there was no way in hell Daimon was ever going to let him even do so much as suggest what he should do.