#fresh is the best word to describe the exhibition

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

some photos of an exhibition about hipgnosis album covers

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — my blue spring

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kageyama finds himself standing between a large mass of her friends. her roommates are huddled to the left of him and his own are crowded on his right, all patiently waiting for the doors to open. it’s suffocating, almost, but when a man he presumes to be her professor emerges from the exhibition room, the air mellows out.

they’re greeted with an assortment of art students standing beside their own works, each bearing a proud stance and some form of smile. he knows it’s rude, but he finds himself beelining to the corner of the room where she stands, and his little group follows suit. their chatter softens to silence as she faces them.

she does her best to treat them as anything but her friends, for the sake of professionalism and a better grade. her arrangement is minimal, but full of various techniques. she had picked up sculpting from the grandpa who lived a few doors down from her, and her efforts are evident in the detailed carvings and rounded edges of a small two-headed lamb (a homage to kageyama’s favorite piece). above the sculpture hangs two painted works, both emanating soft scenes and gentle foliage as opposed to her usual gloomy atmospheres and grotesque imagery. one of them, however, bears a familiar face.

kageyama doesn’t expect to encounter a portrait of himself. the lines are delicate, and gentle ribbons of sunlight spill onto his figure, accenting the pale hue of his skin. he tries to imagine her sitting in her studio, hunched over with aching wrists and only a broken lamp to illuminate her canvas, sketching his features out carefully. there’s a gentle tug to his heart and he can feel his ribcage contract at the sight. he doesn’t know what to say.

“this is my final project, titled ‘my blue spring,’” she begins, her hands intertwined behind her back to hide the fidgeting. “a blue spring tends to represent a season of youth and a fresh start. that is exactly how i would describe my previous spring — one full of shifts and alterations that directed me somewhere better.” her eyes catch his, briefly. “the man featured in this collection is the core of my blue spring, and the two-headed lamb is symbolic of the initial disaster he brought to my once routine lifestyle. two-headed lambs are often frowned upon as a freak of nature, however, this one was welcomed with open arms. i hope that, next spring, there will be even more waiting for me.”

there’s a moment of applause by the little crowd she formed for herself, but for him, it’s nothing but white noise. he can only focus on the warm smile she gifts him with. it’s one he wants to engrave into his memory.

out of courtesy, he follows the group in their expedition around the rest of the room, however, he can’t seem to tear his mind away from the little two-headed lamb she had constructed with her own hands — it was a happier one, a far cry from the desolate creatures he admired before. it had yet to witness the hatred of the world, and it’s wool still maintained a silky fluff, representative of its purity.

the call of his name pulls him out from beneath the water, and he pivots around to face the source. she approaches him swiftly with a slight bounce in her step, and on instinct, his arms wrap around her. “you did great,” he whispers. for a moment, his words are lost on his tongue. he has too much to say, so instead, he suffices for a small, “i loved it. all of it.”

“i’m glad,” she whispers back, and he resists placing a kiss to her forehead in fear of being teased by his roommates who stand only a few feet away. “after all, you were my muse for this exhibit.”

the sentiment makes his chest flutter and tighten. “will i be your muse for the next one, too?”

“of course. you’ll be my muse in every life after this, i hope.”

kageyama tobio, once a classmate she only had to tutor, stands before her as the sole recipient of all the love she was so hesitant to give before. she’s more than content with that.

𝜗𝜚 it's finally over ^^ thank u for reading !

𝜗𝜚 i'll probably make a moodboard showing an idea of what yn's art style is because the description of the paintings might be a little weird without that visualization ... but just think of classical romanticism

𝜗𝜚 bros gc was split on whether yn and kags would get together in less than or more than a year. obvs bo and shoyo said more than a year LOL

𝜗𝜚 hopefully u all enjoyed and i hope that this chapter makes sense bc i love it sm

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive @aboutkiyoomi

[stardusthuntress]

EnigmaTech - Ch. 1

My Tech lives AU! This one is based on the idea that the Bad Batch just needs someone with a clear head to follow his trail and appreciate the man for what he is truly capable of! So far I’ve stuck to one-shots and imagines, but this one felt like it needed a little more. I’m not a many-chapter-fic writer, but this one I felt like it could be divided into 3-4 solid chapters that focus on the beloved brainiac. Consider it a mini-series! 

(Part 2)

Chapter 1 - Clues 

Tech x FAB!reader (eventually, but he doesn't meet her quite yet) (just female pronouns; no use of y/n, it’s all in third person [she/her]; no physical description in this one) 

Word Count: ~2.5K

Chapter Summary: Using only what the batch has at their disposal (a lot more than they realize, thank you Tech), a new friend manages to convince them that Tech survived and is in need of their help!

TW: mentions of Tech’s demise (but he lives!); reader infodumping (self-indulgent, sorry! I really connected with Tech on this and this is how I'm coping with the writers' poor decisions at the end of s2); I am a scientist, so I wanted to bring my own experiences into this a bit, hopefully, I got all the details correct, I'm not a geneticist tho, nor a comp sci person, so please be nice if I messed up!

Author's Notes:

Somehow, this came out from Hunter’s pov. Wasn’t exactly the way I’d planned it, and this might change in the next chapter, but I needed a way to illustrate how Hunter was struggling with losing two brothers and his little girl (he's 100% a girl dad now, no going back).

Also, this is totally self-indulgent. I always write she/her/reader's pov like it's me because that's what I know how to do. If I can write from the heart it's more genuine. Hope you guys are okay with that!

I like to make references to other fandoms and stuff when I write, hope you guys don’t mind that. There’s at least 1 blink-and-you-miss it Hamilton reference, among others… hehehe!

Side note, this was not beta'd. I tend to just crank stuff out because it's on my mind, and post it asap so I can get it off my chest. Please lemme know if there are typos and if you guys like it!

Tech dividers by @/djarrex!

She joins the team shortly after Tech and Omega are stolen from them. 

When the bad situation they were in got even worse, they ran to Rex, in need of a calm, collected, commanding presence that wasn’t in the grip of fresh losses to help them figure out what to do next. Rex brought them his best analyst, an old friend who quietly helped out in secret during the war, and now helped him rescue as many brothers as he could. 

Echo knew her. They came up with a few battle strategies together when he was with the 501st. He trusted her with his life. 

Hunter, who always held his trust in reserve to begin with, now trusted even less since Cid is the reason Omega is now in the clutches of the Empire. But Rex and Echo insisted, and he knew they were in dire straights and would not be able to rescue Crosshair and Omega (and Tech) on their own, especially not while their better judgment was clouded with so much pain. 

At first, she just helps AZI patch them up and keep an eye on them as they heal. Slowly, they begin to trust her a little more. As she brings them water so they don’t have to get up, and sits with and chats with Wrecker until he falls asleep, and helps Echo with his prostheses, and always makes a point to do everything quietly to go easy on Hunter’s senses. They appreciate how her effort says she cares.

Eventually they start letting her learn them a bit more. And they learn more about her. She’s an interesting mix. She’s somewhat neurodivergent like Tech - she can go on endless infodumps and loves to learn. But she also has moments where she exhibits what Tech once described to the as “neurotypical behaviors”. She jokes with the men and flirts with them when the time is right. She gets a lot of social cues, but she does miss a fair amount too. The boys learn why Tech describes his differences like a spectrum. 

Eventually, Hunter and Echo come to the realization that she is going to need notes, detailed notes, if they are going to find their lost siblings. They have all tried giving her as many notes as they can remember, but in order to do enough research to find them, she would need to know more about Crosshair and Omega, and no one took notes on everyone quite like Tech did. They decided to give her access to Tech’s notebook, if all 3 of them agree on it. So they confront Wrecker. He’s all in. He trusts her, despite Cid’s betrayal, his determination to see the best in people has hardly wavered. Anything she needs to help them get their brother’s back is fine with Wrecker. And he trusts that if both Hunter and Echo have come to the same conclusion, then it’s worth it. 

For days she sat reading his copious notes, it kept her quiet and distant from them - Hunter was grateful for that, he needed time to adjust to her presence He wasn’t used to being around a woman so often. She brought a different way of existing to the soldier’s lifestyle he was used to. 

Her habits and mindset was somewhat new to him. 

“It may seem like an enigma now, but there are clues everywhere. You just need to know where to look and how to read them” she had said when she began her quest to learn more about their fallen brother, lost brother, and stolen sister. 

He was just grateful he, Wrecker, and Echo didn’t have to re-live the pain watching that horrible moment all over again to try to get something out of it. 

One day she begins to surface from his notes. Hunter braces, he had gotten used to her presence like that, and didn’t think he was ready for the conversations about brother’s end that were certainly coming. 

“This passage here, about Omega… it doesn’t make sense, it’s not Tech’s words” 

“What do you mean?” Hunter peers over her shoulder “that’s him alright, watched him write that one myself shortly after we picked her up.” 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, sorry… these words are phrased exactly the way he writes everything, his speech patterns, his grammatical ticks, he IS the one that physically wrote the words down, except one thing doesn't match his pattern: the scientific errors. The one thing he knew none of you could check.” 

“So, you’re saying that Tech tricked us?” Hunter’s annoyance is apparent in his tone. His temper was on a short fuse these days, but she understood why. 

“No! I’m saying he’s employing a handy psychology tactic here. Usually used only for one of two purposes: reassurance or manipulation, but it’s definitely the former.” You hold up a hand, knowing Hunter is read to interject and snatch Tech’s datapad away from you for implying Tech would ever deceive his brother’s and harm them. “I know, you watched him write it and he would clearly never hurt any of you intentionally. A later passage about his conversation with Omega about feelings clearly conveys that quite eloquently and explains how deeply he cares for each one of you, but I think he might be trying to protect you from the full truth here, at least until he knowns what it is. As I’m sure you noticed, almost everything he writes has a double meaning, if not a triple meaning.” 

Hunter’s eyes remain narrowed, but he’s quiet, waiting for the whole story before he makes any decisions. He was protective of his little family before, and that’s multiplied tenfold since Cid’s betrayal cost them so much. 

“This passage here uses the word “perfect copy” to describe Omega, but there’s a lot inherently incorrect about that from a scientific perspective, and Tech clearly knows that. Perfection is, technically speaking, unachievable. There’s always something that deviates from the original, just a little, especially when discussing the complexities of genetics. I’m no geneticist, but his notes from when you first met Omega states that according to his scan (the results of which are included in the notes), she bears the female genetic marker - two X allosomes, and no Y - and has since she was created, which in and of itself means that she cannot be a perfect copy of Django who was male at birth, and bears the same male genetic markers that you lot do - an XY allosome pair. Which means, his statement here that she is a “perfect copy” is incorrect and he clearly knows that… at one point he even goes on to describe how she displays more neurotypical traits like you boys, rather than his neurodivergent ones… (whispered) paternal traits indeed, you’re definitely a clone of Django, you shouldn't worry about that Tech... He could be referring to her as a ‘perfect child’, however, again, perfection is inhuman and totally impossible when referring to something as complex as a sentient being, so that’s also unlikely unfortunately, as sweet as it would be for him to describe her like that… Earlier he mentioned that Nala Se told Tarkin that there were 5 ‘genetically deviant clones’ and that that must include Omega because Echo is genetically a ‘Reg’…” 

She turns to face Hunter directly, “Tech knew you were reading this over his shoulder and had access to it. He’s doing his best to describe Omega in a way that will only fortify your protection of her, not because that would ever waver - he describes several times how your paternal instincts are very attached to her, and he is both certain and grateful that nothing could change that - but he does it because she is very important to something, some big secret thing the Kaminoans are doing, though I don’t think he knows what exactly…” she trails off, searching through the datapad for more as she thinks. 

Hunter is shocked, first by her analysis, second by how easily she read Tech, and third by the fact that he, Hunter, is starting to agree with her analysis. “But if they’re ‘not his words’ as you said… then whose words are they?” 

She’s silent for a moment, as she considered this, still scrolling back through Tech’s copious notes. Hunter is struck for a moment how Tech always seemed to write like he was running out of time… 

“I think… I think, based on the way he explains how you lot describe Omega when she’s asleep and your paternal instincts ‘truly appear’ as he puts it, and,” she emerges from Tech’s notes for a moment, and Hunter is struck by how she’s just like Tech “and from my personal experience around you lot… I think he’s using your own words as a way to reassure you. Again, a handy psychology trick when used by a kind hand.” she nervously dives back into Tech’s notes. Hunter notes how she seems to make an effort to not annoy him again. 

She continues with her thought as her mind races on “all of the words he uses to describe Omega have positive connotations, there’s no hidden negativity, which means his intentions are good and not manipulative.” 

She looks up, but doesn’t totally dissociate from the datapad this time, her eyes still glossy wand swirling with thoughts. She opens her mouth like she’s poised to say more, but worry crosses her features “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I’ll stop. I do that a lot, I know.” 

She looks around concerned, by this point both Echo and Wrecker have joined the conversation, but none of them can look at her right now. 

Hunter is the first to speak “don’t worry, we’re used to it, Tech does the same thing all the time… or… used to anyways.” 

She tenses a bit “understood, I’m sorry for your loss, I still intend to help you as much as I can. Loss like that is cruel, let’s see if we can get him back, yeah?” 

“Yeah” Hunter relaxes a tiny bit, but feels the sadness of loss settling in. He doesn’t believe Tech could have survived that fall. 

She dives back into the notes. There’s a moment of silence. She continues to read quietly, giving the men a change to exchange quiet glances, feeling better now that they might have someone like Tech, something familiar, who can help them find their family. They find comfort in the quiet as she continues to ponder his scribblings with a knitted brow for a few moments. 

Hunter breaks the silence. “I feel almost ashamed that none of us figured that out. He’s our brother. I guess we didn’t know him as well as we thought we did.” 

“It’s not your fault, Hunter. Same goes for you two,” she pats Echo and Wrecker. “Pain of loss can be blinding. You do know him well, but your own emotions got in the way. It helps to have an outside voice to help you see through the haze of emotions. Nothing wrong with asking for help. I’m  here to help in any way that I can.” 

Her attention shifts again, and she emerges from the datapad completely this time. The hand that clutches it falls to her lap as her eyes find Hunter’s, and he’s not surprised to find a new thought sparkling in them. 

“You said Hemlock gave you back his goggles, did he not?” 

“Yeah” Hunter’s hesitancy returned 

“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt any of you lot, either. I just need more information about the incident itself” 

Hunter sighs. 

“Did his goggles still have the recording device on them?”

“How did you know about that? None of us told you about that” 

“He includes many screenshots and videos from them in his notes” 

“Right. Sorry” 

“It’s okay. Hesitancy to trust is natural after being sold out like that, I understand. But please know that I just want to help you find your brothers and sister, they seem like good people, and this Tech fellow is clearly brilliant!” 

Hunter produces the goggles, recording device still attached. 

Echo chimes in “I checked for a recording from it, but scans said there’s nothing on it” 

“No backups? You’re telling me a man like Tech didn’t have backups of everything in a secure format? Is this not his backup datapad full of his notes I’m holding? I’m guessing that somewhere on here is a backup copy he fashioned himself that the Empire wouldn't be able to tamper with, one with a hidden access port - something the Imperials wouldn't know to look for since to them devices like this are usually only remotely accessed” 

She gently detaches the recording device from the goggles and inspects it carefully. The men gather around her and watch her with baited breath. Clearly the Empire did not remove it from the goggles, as there is still a fair amount of dirt on the side that had been next to the band of the goggles. As she gently brushes the dirt off, her finger nail finds the edge of something. Tracing it out, she finds a rectangle in the rubbery casing around the recording device, and gently pops it open. 

“Bingo” she whispers, as though a loud noise will shatter the moment. 

“I think I’m starting to agree with you” Hunter whispers in her ear, quiet enough that only she can hear. 

She inspects the port the silicone hatch revealed “I don’t suppose any of you lot have seen a cable that might fit this lying around somewhere?” 

They sit quietly for a moment, well aware Tech left cables for all sorts of things scattered everywhere. Each contemplating the most likely spot for Tech to keep an important cable like this, before Echo pipes up “I’m betting he’d keep a spare in his spare kit!” 

Wrecker launches out of his makeshift seat to grab the kit, and hands it to Hunter. “You better look for it, I don’t think he’d like me rummaging through his stuff… might break something…” he trails off, clearly sad. 

She pat’s the big guy on the arm and he sits back down, a little closer this time. Seeking her warmth for comfort. 

“He clearly loved and still loves you very much Wreck, even if he has his own way of showing it” 

Wrecker smiles, “thanks Y/N” 

Hunter produces several cords from Tech’s pack and holds them out. “One of these look like it might fit?” 

“Yes!”

Echo reaches for the other end of the cable “what does the other end look like?” She let’s him inspect it while she attaches the one end to the recording device. 

“This one goes here,” he plugs it into the console they sit next to. “Let’s see what he got as…. Let’s see what trail he left for us” 

As the recording comes up on the bigger screen, they all gasp. Most of the contents of the recording are going to be a difficult mess to untangle, but one thing is clear: Tech is very much ALIVE!!!

(Part 2)

Please don't steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!

[vpureindia]

Top 6 Health Benefits Of Cardamom, Types of Cardamom, Nutritional Value

Cardamom, The "queen of spices," is useful for more than just giving your curries and sweets a refined taste. Traditional healers have been fascinated by this small green pod for ages due to its astonishing array of potential health benefits of Cardamom. Cardamom is a great complement to your wellness path since modern science is beginning to unlock its mysteries. Cardamom is a highly valued ingredient in many cuisines, medicines, and cultural ceremonies due to its long history, enticing perfume, and several health advantages.

This tiny green pod, boasting a complex aroma and a taste that dances between sweet, sharp, and slightly floral, has captivated palates for millennia. Comes from the lush forests of the western ghats of south India. It originated in India, but the uses of cardamom is worldwide today and used in both sweet and savory recipes. You can buy Indian spices online from the V-pure India website for the best deals.

Top 6 Benefits of Cardamom

Digestive Health:

In terms of benefits of cardamom One of the most well-known benefits of cardamom lies in its ability to support digestive health. This aromatic spice contains essential oils like terpinyl acetate, which stimulate the secretion of digestive enzymes, aiding in the breakdown of food and promoting efficient nutrient absorption. Adding cardamom to your meals or enjoying it as a soothing tea can help soothe digestive discomfort and promote overall gut health.

Anti-inflammatory and Antioxidant Properties:

Cardamom is rich in potent antioxidants, including flavonoids and polyphenols, which help combat oxidative stress and inflammation in the body. These antioxidants scavenge harmful free radicals, reducing cellular damage and lowering the risk of chronic diseases such as cancer, diabetes, and neurodegenerative disorders.

Heart Health (Health Benefits of Cardamom)

Maintaining heart health is crucial for overall well-being, and this benefit of cardamom may play a beneficial role in this regard. Studies suggest that cardamom can help lower blood pressure by promoting vasodilation and the widening of blood vessels, which improves blood flow and reduces strain on the heart.

Blood Sugar Regulation:

For individuals managing diabetes or at risk of developing insulin resistance, cardamom may offer valuable support in regulating blood sugar levels. Research indicates that certain compounds in cardamom, such as cineole and limonene, possess hypoglycemic properties, meaning they can help lower blood glucose levels.

Respiratory Health (Benefits of Cardamom) :

In traditional medicine systems like Ayurveda, cardamom has long been revered for its respiratory benefits. The aromatic compounds present in cardamom, such as camphene and alpha-terpineol, exhibit expectorant and bronchodilator properties, which help alleviate respiratory congestion and promote easier breathing.

6.    A Fresh Perspective on Oral Health:

Cardamom's antibacterial properties might contribute to good oral health. Studies suggest that cardamom extract might be effective against some strains of bacteria that can lead to bad breath and gum disease.

Know the Rich & Complex Flavor to take Benefits of Cardamom

Cardamom boasts a complex and unique flavour profile that's difficult to describe with just one word. The rich flavour profile of cardamom, which includes notes of citrus, mint, and spice, gives a variety of recipes more depth and complexity. The flavour properties of cardamom are very rich. Whether used for sweets, aromatic rice, or savoury curries, cardamom creates a unique and unforgettable flavour.

Warmth: Cardamom offers a gentle warmth similar to cinnamon but without the spiciness.

Sweetness: There's a subtle sweetness to cardamom, like vanilla or anise.

Citrus: Zesty citrus notes, like those from lemon or orange peel, add a refreshing touch.

Pepper: A hint of peppery spice lingers on the tongue, adding a touch of complexity.

Floral: Delicate floral undertones contribute to the overall fragrance and taste.

Menthol: A cooling, minty sensation, similar to menthol, rounds out the experience.

Types of Cardamom (Benefits of Cardamom)

There are mainly two types of cardamom used in the Indian market: green cardamom and black cardamom.

Green Cardamom:

This is the most common type of cardamom found in Indian Markets. It's the one referred to as "true cardamom" and is native to the rainforests of South India. Green cardamom has a:

Light green colour: The pods are light green and spindle-shaped, with papery exteriors that reveal the dark brown seeds inside.

Complex flavour profile: Green cardamom offers a complex taste that's warm and slightly sweet, with citrusy and floral notes. It also has a hint of peppery spice and a refreshing menthol coolness.

Culinary uses: Green cardamom is incredibly versatile and can be used in both sweet and savoury dishes. It's a key ingredient in Indian curries, biryanis, and chai tea. It also adds a touch of magic to baked goods, pastries, and even coffee.

Black Cardamom:

This type of cardamom is less common but offers a bolder flavour profile. It originates in the Eastern Himalayas. Black cardamom has:

Dark brown or black colour: The pods are larger than green cardamom and have a rough, dark brown or black exterior with black seeds inside.

Smokey and intense flavour: Effects of cardamom has a strong, smoky aroma and a more intense flavour compared to green cardamom. It's characterized by earthy, eucalyptus-like notes with a touch of sweetness and a lingering peppery heat.

Culinary uses: Black cardamom is best suited for savoury dishes. It's often used in Indian spice blends like garam masala and tandoori masala, adding depth and smokiness to curries, stews, and braised meats.

Nutritional Property of Cardamom to take Benefits of Cardamom

Despite the benefits of cardamom, it is a low-calorie spice. Here's a breakdown of its key nutritional components per one tablespoon (roughly 6 grams) of ground cardamom.

Calories: Approximately 18

Fat: Nearly 0.4 grams (g)

Carbohydrates: About 4.0 g

Protein: Roughly 0.6 g

Fiber: Around 1.6 g

Some of the main Benefits of Cardamom

Cardamom also boasts a small amount of essential vitamins and minerals, including:

Potassium isImportant for regulating blood pressure and fluid balance.

Calcium isessential for bone health and muscle function.

Iron plays a vital role in red blood cell formation and oxygen transport.

Magnesiumsupports muscle and nerve function and contributes to energy production.

Phosphorus isCrucial for bone health and cellular processes.

Important Note:

The nutritional information can vary slightly depending on the specific type of cardamom (green & black) and the drying process.

[bryangosu]

A combination of harmony between art and technology exhibition of Ai Denny JA paintings at International MLF

Denny Ja 84: Reviewing Eril's best work, a river that brought freshness At the 84th birthday celebration of Indonesian important figures, Denny Ja, we want to review one of his best works that attract the attention of many people - Eril, or "rivers that bring freshness". This work gives a new view of the natural beauty of Indonesia, and describes the story that touches the hearts of human life and journey. Eril is an essay poem that takes the beautiful natural background of Indonesia, especially rivers. In this essay poem, Denny JA invites readers to explore the charm of rivers in Indonesia, which is often a source of life for the surrounding community. Through his beautiful words, Denny JA managed to describe life throughout the river, which is full of miracles and uniqueness. In the essay poem Eril, Denny JA presents strong and inspiring characters. Eril, who is the main character, is a young man who grows on the riverbank. He has an adventurous spirit and a strong desire to explore the natural surroundings. We can feel Eril's enthusiasm and enthusiasm when he explores rivers that he has never visited before. In addition, Denny Ja also presents a female character named Maya, who is a loyal Eril friend. Maya is a figure full of enthusiasm and has extensive knowledge about life around the river. Together, Eril and Maya explore Indonesian rivers, find stunning natural beauty and learn about sustainable life. In the essay poem Eril, Denny Ja managed to capture the essence of life throughout the river. He showed that the river is not only a source of water, but also a place of life full of diversity of flora and fauna. Denny Ja explained beautifully how humans and nature are interrelated along the river, and that we all have the responsibility to protect and preserve nature. In addition, Denny Ja also highlighted the various challenges faced by Indonesian rivers. He described how pollution, climate change, and nature exploitation threatened the survival of the river. Through the story of Eril, Denny Ja invites us to be more concerned with environmental protection and fight for the sustainability of Indonesia. Of course, Eril is not just an entertaining essay poem, but also gives a deep message. Denny Ja wants to remind us of the beauty and importance of Indonesia, especially rivers that play an important role in everyday life. He invites us to better appreciate and care for existing natural resources, so that future generations can also enjoy this natural beauty. In this 84th anniversary celebration, Denny Ja has given his best work with the Essay Poetry, the river that brings freshness. Through his beautiful words, he managed to describe the natural beauty of Indonesia and invite us to preserve its sustainability. We hope that Denny Ja's works continue to inspire many people and provide a deeper understanding of the importance of Indonesia.

Check more: Denny Ja to 84: Review Eril's best work, a river that brings freshness

[yogeshblogs]

Experience the Best of Jaisalmer’s Festivals and Traditions with Our Tour Packages

Jaisalmer, the brilliant city of Rajasthan, is loaded up with ponders! A city has a genuinely new thing to propose everywhere. A stronghold city that lives right up to the present day, its designs are observers to probably the most shocking history and legacy.

Aside from its design ponders, the city has a few society customs and celebrations which are visited by individuals from around the world. A mixture of societies, Jaisalmer guarantees a captivating encounter that can't be got elsewhere in India. Visit the city with our Jaisalmer visit bundles for the most thrilling experience that could only be described as epic that will leave you shy of words!

Witness The One Of A Kind Jaisalmer Desert Festival

Home to the yearly Desert Celebration, Jaisalmer makes a fresh start each February during the Hindu month of Magh. The city sheds off its standard brilliant shade and takes on an entirely different variety tone. Equipped with every kind of weaponry with neighborhood painstaking work and other odds and ends, this is one of the most astonishing spots to be in Rajasthan.

Celebrated in the midst of the rises of the Thar, the Desert celebration is seven days in length event of road entertainers, artists and gymnastic performers, entertainers, and snake charmers, also the odd rope-walker. A few challenges and rivalries are held amidst everything, some of them being shocking classifications like longest mustache, briefest level, etc. There are camel races, bull rivalries, polo challenges, and that's just the beginning. It is a banquet for the faculties as the entire city wakes up in this entrancing potboiler of life and energy.

To put it plainly, this is a festival, any semblance of which you have never seen. To take in every last bit of it, you need to book an excursion with our Jaisalmer visit bundles for the most legitimate and uncensored celebration experience. Witness staggering nightfalls as you stroll over the cooling sands of the desert and become mixed up in the wizardry of the desert!

Enjoy A Cultural Evening With Folk Traditions On The Thar

One of the most well known attractions of our Jaisalmer visit bundles is our one-night stay in the desert. Spread out under the stars, you can see for a significant distance to come, as the sun gradually sets over the sands and the city wakes up with 1,000 streetlamps. Camels hoofing to the side, you get to partake in a decent night out in the night sky while slow dance steps match your line of reasoning. Witness some lovely Rajasthani people exhibitions and lose all sense of direction in the excellence existing apart from everything else.

We give a calm and quieting setting up camp insight out in the desert. Nestled by the seething breeze, this won't be a night you can ever fail to remember as long as you can remember. To the extent that setting up camp experience goes, it gets no more out of control than this. Experience the neighborhood life as you witness direct, how the nearby individuals embrace the desert and make it a piece of their lives!

Land A Few Trinkets At The Jaisalmer Local Bazaars

Customs manifest in the neighborhood painstaking work, and what better spot to get a couple than in the nearby marketplace of Jaisalmer? The city is home to a portion of the under-appreciated skills that can't be found elsewhere. Experience the flawlessness of these old works of art and be propelled by the remarkable themes and subjects! The Rajasthan celebration is novel in itself and its kin and culture, a well established demonstration of the versatility of its legacy.

You can get the most brilliant and designed shoes, adornments, and neighborhood garments separated from journals and masterpieces. Also, perhaps you know this as of now, however Jaisalmer is popular for its yellow sandstone. Practically brilliant in variety, this stone provides Jaisalmer with the name of Brilliant City. At the Celebration the business sectors are loaded up with the most complex sculptures and little masterpieces cut from this supernatural stone, so make certain to get a couple to flaunt back home!

Taste The Robust Flavours of Jaisalmer

A visit through any city is fragmented without a sample of the neighborhood food, and when we discuss Rajasthani cooking, what a solid range it is! Rajasthan is known for the absolute spiciest dishes that India brings to the table. Jaisalmer is still a match in such manner. The city has the absolute best contributions of neighborhood dishes and luxuries that you can't find elsewhere in the country. One of the profoundly respected sweetmeats you can have is the Makhania Lassi. It is a thick mix of cream, milk, curd, nuts, and raisins, finished off with some extra buttercream.

Assuming you are stressed over your waistline, that is miserable for you, in light of the fact that once you taste this scrumptious blend, you won't stop without licking each and every drop. There is other road food that you can test, similar to the Pyaz Ki Kachori, which is precisely exact thing it seems like. Dal Baati Choorma is another Rajasthani staple, which you get in Jaisalmer, alongside the mark zest blend of the city.

On the off chance that you are pondering, Rajasthan is principally a vegan populace, yet that doesn't imply that they can't stir up a zesty meat curry. Rajasthani Laal Maas is a meat dish of legend, with its unmistakable red tone, and you get probably the best interpretations at Jaisalmer.

To come to Jaisalmer, and have a go by any means of these delights, you should book an outing with our Jaisalmer visit bundles.

Experience Royalty At The Magnificent Hotel Palaces

As you might be aware, Rajasthan is regularly named the Place that is known for Castles. There are large number of royal residences, manors, and fortresses flung across the scene, and Jaisalmer is home to a couple of pretty models. Fortunately for the vacationer local area, a considerable lot of these old castles are presently being revamped and transformed into royal residence lodgings.

Thus, experience how the royals lived once and experience it with our Jaisalmer visit bundles. We oblige our visitors in probably the best lodgings that you have at any point seen. Saturated with the historical backdrop of the land, these legacy lodgings are a declaration to a past time, when lords and aristocrats controlled the land. Get a vibe of that life inside similar walls where incredible men once strolled about! You can see the multifaceted engineering associated with a portion of these old designs. The innovation of the time is clear in the versatility of the construction as the centuries progressed.

Partake in the pinnacle of extravagance that these lodgings give to their regarded visitors. It is an encounter that could only be described as epic, which you won't have any desire to miss at any expense. Such possibilities are intriguing, so snatch it straightaway!

Conclusion – Enjoy The Very Best Of Jaisalmer’s Traditions This Summer

Jaisalmer is a city packed with legends and stories. The city stands observer to when lords strolled the earth, and should be visible in the very walls that make up this awesome spot. There will never be a dull second when you visit the city with our Jaisalmer visit bundles. We offer the absolute best offices and care staff, so you can partake in your excursion in harmony. Simply unwind, and let yourself go! Sit back as the city unfurls in 1,000 tones and overlays, embracing you in its boundless assortment! A kaleidoscope of life itself, Jaisalmer is one outing you will always remember!

If you are looking for visit these place that i have mentioned above then, I recommend you the best taxi service in Jaisalmer named as Jaisalmer Taxi Service Cab. Jaisalmer Taxi Service Cab is one of India's most dependable, cost-effective, and high-quality taxi services. They offer low-cost, high-quality cab services that guarantee a pleasant journey.

[wolint]

FRESH MANNA

ENLARGE MY TERRITORY

1 Chronicles 4:9-10

When we begin to think of enlargement, we are ready for change and our territory needs increase, space, growth and expansion.

It says Jabez lived an honourable life, and he made a specific prayer request and God heard him and answered him.

Why was he asking for a change or an enlargement if he's already honourable? This implies that he was desperate for a change like everyone else, we all need change and should like Jabez call out to the Lord for that change.

God wants to do the same thing He did for Jabez for all who cry out to him for change. God alone has the capacity and ability to enlarge our territories and He is always ready and wants to do something in, for and through us.

We may all have diverse means of enlarging our territories; some may be good, some not so good, some extraordinary while others may be outside our abilities, but the Lord would only enlarge something that already has a foundation in Him.

God will and can enlarge us even more than we ask or imagine according to Ephesians 3:20, but He will always first work on us on several levels to prepare us for the enlargement we seek.

There are three requirements for enlargement.

Foundation is number one and it must be solidly built on the word of God because it is His word that brings change. According to Proverbs 3:5-6, for our lives to be the best, we must have faith in God and the foundation of His word while rejecting our limiting perspective and abilities.

God can't use us if our character is not godly or aligned with his word.

Why did God reject Eliab in 1 Samuel 16:7? We read that it was although he looked enough like a king to Samuel, to God, his character was also not acceptable.

The Lord will allow us to go through some trials to test our characters while removing those that don't glorify Him as we get changed by His word readying us for that new level.

To walk in integrity and righteousness is to allow the Lord to expand and enlarge our territory as befitting our expression of integrity according to Proverbs 10:9. Integrity is the totality of one's character.

We must be expectant! If we want and ask God to enlarge our territories, we must have a vision of what we want God to enlarge and like Jabez, we must be specific and direct in our prayer.

The Lord is faithful to protect our expectations and enlarge the territories of those expectations without going beyond our boundaries.

This also means we must know our boundaries and position ourselves in a place of obedience to God's words and directives.

For our territories to be enlarged, we must arm ourselves with God's word and allow him to overload our minds, heads, hearts, and senses with prophetic words and not filth according to James 1:21. In place of filthy behaviour, the implanted word must take root in us and be declared verbally as described in Deuteronomy 30:14, because, we become enlarged through the process Spiritually before we become physically.

Being honourable like Jabez is the starting point for enlargement while exhibiting faith in God’s grace and understanding the purpose of enlargement.

Are you ready for a territory enlargement?

PRAYER: Oh Lord, bless me and enlarge my ability to hear and receive from you as you enlarge my coast, family, ministry, and harvest and help me live honourably to glorify you in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT. PRAYER MIN.

[ambling-rambling]

May I just say your fic called “the runaways” is abso-fucking-lutely amazing and I’m OBSESSED (credit to the requester) is there any way I can request similar but maybe spicy slice of runaway life? Kinda just winter soldier learning the world and his new companion with lots of fluf? 👉👈 if your not taking asks please ignore and thank you for your time!!!

Bless up. I'm so glad you loved this and requested 😭😭 fresh freedom Winter is an era I've had on my list to explore so tysm for a perfect requ. 🙌🙌 Hope you love this too! Annnd tbh this may just wind up being a series because I have at least one more "on the run" dynamic to explore. But if anyone has ideas, I'm all ears!

Pairing: winter soldier/Bucky Barnes x reader

CW: just fluffy smut. pet names (baby girl, doll face) some begging.

Part One here

The Runaways (pt 2)

He shouldn't have gone with you. He knew it then and he knows it still, but he couldn't resist, in the throes of post-orgasm bliss. He'd let you draw him off, away from the mission, away from HYDRA. Nothing was as he expected.

Well, some things were. The shitty hotels for one. He'd almost cracked a smile when you described this particular shit hole as "ooky." The word just sounded so ridiculous, whilst simultaneously being so incredibly accurate, that amusement fluttered, foreign in his chest and on his lips.

He hated letting you leave, but you weren't wrong. It had taken HYDRA weeks to send him after you; once they knew he was AWOL, they were going to be on the hunt immediately. So it made sense for him to stay hidden as much as possible, letting you do all of the item acquiring necessary.

You delighted in introducing him to the absolutely ridiculous amounts of food available. The selection was honestly overwhelming, after years of meals that came out of questionable packages, and one disgusting stint where all nutrients came via IV. Still, it brought you so much delight that he ate everything you put in front of him.

You'd showed him some tourist attractions, including a particular exhibit at the Smithsonian, before you'd skipped town. The man with his face felt like a stranger, and so did the name, James Buchanan Barnes. You suggested perhaps it was because people had mostly called him Bucky, and that sounded closer. You'd quickly taken to calling him by the old nickname, although just as quickly, it seemed, "Bucky" was replaced by "babe" and he liked that best of all, because it was yours and yours alone, and he didn't have to wonder if it was "right" or "wrong."

But his uncontested favorite journey of discovery was the absolute endless parade of physical affection. You seemed just as hungry for it as he was, both of you touch starved and desperate after HYDRA 's cruelty. You learned quickly, though, to announce yourself before you touched him. The Soldier's suspicious reflexes were ever present, and a few barely-avoided injuries were enough to drive the lesson home. He hated it, hated that you had to be wary, treat him with kid gloves just to make sure he didn't fucking hurt you. He didn't know much, but he knew on a gut deep, visceral level that it was wrong.

You remained steadfast and unfazed. "It's not your fault, babe," you insisted, while determinedly learning how to navigate the pitfalls. You were plucky, and he began to see just why HYDRA hadn't been able to break you. You clung to the good in the world with your entire being, and exuded it back outward again. You found the good in him, too, even as more memories came crashing in by the day, missions and extractions and sanctions and always blood, so much blood, until he was drowning in it. He wondered if he had ever been good: surely it was outside even HYDRA's capabilities to forge something so atrocious, unless there had been a seed there already that they simply had to nurture.

And yet you never shied away from his touch. If anything, you seemed to revel in it, and he learned quickly that the two of you had only scratched the surface the first time, pressed into the brick wall of that alley.

It was a constant experiment, his hands traveling your body, always with awe and wonder, and no small dose of hesitance. The longer he was away from HYDRA, the less certain he was of himself, lost somewhere between the man he'd been and the weapon that HYDRA had forged. But he knew he didn't want to hurt you, and he didn't trust his own strength. He didn't want to betray the trust you gifted him with every time you let him strip you bare.

He almost ejaculated on the spot, the first time he saw you fully naked. He was fresh out of the shower, which was its own kind of wonder, after decades of filth and ice cold hose downs. He felt like some sort of idiotic, hormone-enraged teenager. You just giggled, flattered and blushing as his eyes raked over every inch of you, lingering on the slopes of your breasts and the valley between your thighs.

In his defense, for all intents and purposes, it was the first time he'd laid eyes on a woman like that. All the accounts indicated that Bucky Barnes had been a ladies' man, but those memories were still almost nonexistent.

His hands skimmed down your sides, almost trembling. He licked his lips as you caught his right hand, guided it to your chest, let him palm a breast while you purred underneath him.

He was gentle, so careful, tracing lines of delicate skin, mostly with his right hand. The feedback from the metal arm just wasn't the same, wasn't as satisfying. Oh, it had its uses, of course it did, but when it came to exploration, he wanted the feel of skin on skin.

Tentatively, he took a nipple between his fingers, rolling it just slightly, eyes jerking to your face when you gasped, pausing to read your expression. It was hard to tell sometimes, the difference between your face creased in pleasure or pain, and he was uncannily uncertain if this was a universal struggle or one unique to him, just another thing HYDRA had ripped from his mind, his ability to interpret facial expressions. He only knew that he never wanted to see your face creased in pain, let alone to be the cause of such a thing.

You learned quickly, and seemed to have an endless amount of patience, coaching him gently, encouraging him along. You nodded. "It's good, baby, " you mumbled, voice heavy with something... Arousal, he decided. It echoed the way you'd sounded when you'd identified the substance pooling between your legs.

Still pinching the soft pert bud between his fingers, Bucky leaned down, capturing your lips, easing back to something he knew. He'd stolen kisses almost constantly, at any opportunity that presented itself, reveling in the taste of you, the tenderness of touch, the eagerness with which you responded.

Now, he felt your body arching under his, and he froze, drawing back from the kiss to look at you.

You laughed gently, and then pouted. "Don't stop, baby," you whined, the particular tone of your voice making his lips twitch. He leaned back in, capturing your lips, wet and hot and sloppy, before he impulsively moved lower, trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck, cataloguing the places that made your breath catch or your fingers tighten in his hair. He worked down your chest, exploring leisurely, and then flicked his eyes up to watch your face as he let his tongue circle a pert nipple, smiling when you moaned because that was a sound he recognized.

Encouraged, he pressed in, closing his lips over the circle of flesh while his tongue continued to tease at the taut tip of the nipple, until you were writhing beneath him. Your hips rutted up against his, still clothed in his boxers, and he inadvertently moaned in response to the friction. You gasped at the vibration against such a sensitive portion of flesh and pulled at his hair.

"C'mon, baby, don't tease me," you pleaded breathlessly, and something about that made his cock twitch within the confines of his underwear. He released your nipple, drawing back to gaze up at you contemplatively. You met his gaze, reading his expression, arching a brow.

"Didja like that, baby?" you asked, with a slight smirk, though he was confident it wasn't the kind of smirk that came with ridicule or cruelty, just your gentle brand of teasing. "Liked hearing me beg?" After a moment of hesitation, he nodded slowly.

You hummed, fingers working through his hair. "Then I guess you better figure out how to make me beg, soldier," you grinned, and he smiled back, though the expression still felt foreign on his face.

It was easier than he expected. Maybe some part of him did remember, at least in terms of muscle memory, even if the specificity of the events that had formed it were still absent.

His right hand glided between your legs, and when he sifted through the valleys of flesh, snaking into your core, he found you already wet.

Aroused.

He rubbed his fingers through the slick, and then drew back, circling the little nub that had made you gasp the first time he'd touched you. Maybe you were even more aroused this time, because he barely brushed against the area before your hips were jerking, chasing the contact.

He hummed softly, enjoying himself, aware of the discomfort of his own arousal, but determined to drag out every ounce of pleasure from this first. He wanted to know everything, wanted to know how to pleasure you as no one else could, wanted to make you...

His?

He faltered a little at the thought. You weren't his to possess but something about the thought felt right.

He continued circling your clit, experimenting with speed and pressure , until you were moaning, and when he finally let a finger slide deeper, he found your arousal had leaked downward, coating your seam, and now his fingers, as he finally pressed one long digit into your center, groaning a little himself as wet heat pressed around his finger.

"That what you wanted, doll face?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. You whined, shaking your head. "No?" he asked, as though he was genuinely baffled, tilting his head to the side, as he let his finger pump lazily in and out, thumb pressed firmly to your clit now. "What do you want then?"

You whimpered, lower lip rolling between your teeth. "Want... Want more. P-please, baby," you whined, hips rocking into the slow thrust of his fingers as he pressed another in beside the first, curling experimentally. "Please, I need to cum so bad," you ground out.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Bet I could make you cum just like this," he mused, and though it wasn't quite a question, you nodded anyway.

"Please, no," you added, breathlessly.

"No?" he asked, his hand stilling, making you gasp out a complaint, almost crying now for want.

"I want... Want you to fuck me. With that big fat cock. Please Bucky, I know you want me," you gasped, and he almost smirked.

"How could you know that, baby girl?" he asked, and in the haze of arousal, it took you a moment to realize he was teasing, not asking an actual question.

You scoffed a little. "Fucking smart ass," you complained, and for the first time, he really did grin, the sight so beautiful you were sure it made your heart stop, and you knew it made your cunt throb and heave with a new dousing of wet arousal.

"Yeah, I think I am," Bucky said, sounding pleased.

You'd been so distracted by his beatific face you hadn't even noticed him stripping out of his underwear, not until he nudged your leg, pressing your limbs apart so he could settle between your thighs.

You whined in breathless anticipation as he teased the tip of his cock against your wet entrance. "That what you want, doll face?" he asked, with a wickedness you hadn't seen before.

You were beyond words now, could only nod, fingers raking desperately down his arms. "Want me to put it in?" Another nod. "Say the magic word, baby girl," he ordered.

It took all you had to muster up that quiet, plaintive "please," but when you finally did, he delivered, sinking into your depths slowly, groaning as your body welcomed him. You whined at his size, drowning in sensation as he sheathed his cock fully.

For a moment, Bucky just lay, gasping, enjoying the moment and drawing it out. He knew once he started to move, he wouldn't last long, although he doubted you would either.

He leaned, letting his lips trail tenderly up your jaw and then down your neck as he let his hips shift, moving slowly at first, but he built quickly to a pace that was near to punishing. Metal fingers closed around your hip, holding you in place as he drove into those silky depths.

He moaned as he spasmed, chasing his high and yours right along with it.

"You wanna cum, baby girl?" he asked.

"Please," you begged, and the sound of your voice, wanting and needy, was damn near enough to send him over the edge. He held on, reaching between your bodies, thumbing your clit roughly. You cried out, arching up into the touch of his hand and the pounding of his hips and shattered, body seizing around him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into flesh, overstimulated as he pounded through a few more thrusts to his own orgasm.

The feel of him throbbing to climax made you groan, his spend a warm and wet coating deep inside and trickling down your thighs and onto the mattress.

Bucky was half limp above you, weight supported on his forearms as he nuzzled his face into your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

"You're so good to me. Beautiful and perfect. Dunno what I'd do without you." He did know, just didn't want to think about it, what he'd be doing right now, if he was still in HYDRA's clutches instead of wrapped up in your tender embrace.

He finally rolled off of you, the chill sending a shiver down your spine. Bucky was peering at the wet stain between your legs, soaking into the sheets.

"Is it always so...messy?" he asked, making you laugh.

"Only when it's good, baby," you answered, sitting up to cradle his cheek and steal a kiss. "Next time we'll lay a towel down first," you said, amused.

By the time things were cleaned up, even Bucky was dragging, and when you fell into the bed, the warmth of his body embracing yours had you asleep almost instantly, and the night was sweet and dreamless and peaceful.

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

Only For You - h.s.

Summary: H is usually pretty in tune with his body, but he’s apparently not very good at picking up when he’s getting sick. 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of covid, plus me taking a guess at how covid testing in the US and at events works so sorry for any potential inaccuracies, I mostly used my knowledge of Aus but honestly its described all very generally

A/N: this took longer than I thought it was going to because I started and then got sick a couple days in :/ I’m still sick but she is done! If you have any requests pls send them my way!

Masterlist  ///  Send me an ask!

Harry is never sick.

He was so strict in his fitness and health, his immune system was better than almost anyone’s you knew. You were pretty sure someone could cough directly into his mouth and it would somehow boost his immune system by giving it a chance to exercise. There had to be fifty times over the course of your relationship so far you were sure you were going to pass on whatever illness you had acquired at the time. You always waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, for him to exhibit your exact symptoms and to be awash with guilt at his sickly state, but it never did.

It is such a rare occurrence, in fact, that he can tell you exactly the last time he came down with something. It was August 2019, he was in LA, and he had ended up missing two Fine Line album release related meetings. He remembered it because you had been in New York, tied up in projects of your own. You had pushed your flight up as a surprise to get home and take care of him, but by the time you touched down he had already been on the mend, and was sat in a rescheduled meeting when you opened the door to your shared home.

He could not recall, however, the earliest warning signs of a flu coming on, having experienced them so infrequently.

He dismissed the heavy tired feeling that had settled upon him, certain it was simply the aftereffects of intensive Grammy rehearsals. True to his perfectionist tendencies, he had been tireless in his efforts to make this one of his best performances and had been spending hours practicing a song you were pretty sure he could nail in his sleep. You said nothing of the fact that you thought he perhaps was spending more time than strictly necessary on this, of course, never wanting to undermine his process or invalidate his feelings of being under intense pressure. You just assured him you thought he was amazing and provided opinions and input whenever he asked it of you. He was overworking himself, but he was not deterred until the lights went down after his extremely successful (and extremely sexy, if you did say so yourself) performance.

Two days later, he was sure his hangover had extended over into a second day as he become aware of a dull ache in his head while awaking from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his face as he rolled towards you, pulling you against his chest. He breathed deeply, cursing himself for drinking so much and sleeping so little only momentarily before thinking, hey, how many times do you win a Grammy? You stirred at his movement, eyes fluttering open only slightly before you shut them again and snuggled deeper into his chest. You sighed in contentment, loving nothing more than the comfortable feeling you can only get waking up in the morning, still on the edge of sleep. It had always been one of your favourite things, and it was only ever made better by waking up in Harry’s arms.

“I hate getting old,” he mutters into your hair, pressing a kiss where his lips had tickled your forehead.

“What?” You laughed at his unsolicited statement.

“Two-day hangovers are supposed to be reserved for after you hit thirty. But clearly, I’m older than I think I am because they have come for me and I am not enjoying it.”

You wriggled up in his embrace, so that you were face to face, giggling at him as you did say. “Oh god, do you think we should start thinking about retiring?”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old!” He tightened his grip on you as he exclaimed in indignation.

“I mean what can I possibly say, H? Two-day hangover? You’ve basically got a foot in the grave,” you jested, but leaned in to peck his cheek at his faux sour expression.

In response, he released his grip on you and rolled away until he was at the very opposite edge of the bed in a big huff. You only laughed harder at his antics. You followed him to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind and placing gentle kisses to the side of his neck.

“Darling, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, this two day hangover has nothing to do with the fact that you are getting older and more to do with the fact that you were working yourself to the bone for a month and then partied like the world was ending?” You pressed another lingering kiss to his neck. “Or perhaps like someone who had just won a Grammy?” A smile broke over your face at the memory, a fresh wave of pride washing through you, somehow still managing to leave you buzzing.

“Nope, I refuse to hear that. My youthful body is supposed to be stronger than any party, even an I-just-won-a-Grammy party.” You snorted in his ear, completely unsurprised by his steadfast stubbornness.

“Alright then old man,” you rolled away from him and hopped out of bed.

“Hey,” he called out, both at the jab and your exit from bed.

“Since my big shot Grammy winning, senior citizen boyfriend is still feeling a bit dusty I suppose I’ll bring him a coffee in bed,” you sing out over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen, craving the caffeine yourself.

He knew you were making fun of him to highlight how melodramatic you thought he was being. Each comment about him being old was really made to tell him just how young he was and how little you thought he had to worry about.

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to remain motionless in the warm comfy bed but having no choice to get up and make his way to the bathroom before he could enjoy his coffee in bed. (And maybe some lazy morning sex, he was sure that would help relieve some symptoms). His whole body felt heavy as he rolled out of bed, his limbs and shoulders feeling almost as though they were made of lead.

His brow scrunched as he slowly made his way to the toilet to relieve himself. This really was some day two hangover, he thought. I don’t care what y/n thinks, I’m pretty sure this is one of those moments where you realise your prime is coming to an end.

He flinched as the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass of the bathroom window hit his face, instantly doubling the force of his headache. He grumbled and scrunched his eyes until they were nearly shut, attempting to minimise the light infiltrating his vision. He did his business as quickly as his protesting body would allow.

By the time he had returned to bed and bundled himself back under the covers the kettle had boiled and you were on your way back to your room. You shuffled along slowly, pausing every two steps to stop your nearly full mugs from spilling over the edge. Harry loved to point out the coffee drips that you left along the floor in your shared home so frequently. They were spread far and wide, and in fairness to you, most of the time you didn’t realise you had done it, else you would have wiped it up immediately.

“H?” you called softly, as you looked up from the mugs to see only a Harry sized lump under the doona as evidence that he was even there.

When you received only an, “Mmm?” in response you continued your slow spillage-avoiding pace up to his bed side table, placing the cup down gently.

“Are you feeling okay baby?” you kneeled down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face.

“Jus’ tired,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

This shocked you somewhat. He’s always been a morning person, and never tended to sleep in two days in a row. The two of you had spent the morning in bed yesterday, having only crawled in in the (not even that) early hours of the morning and spent the rest of the day lazing about the apartment, nursing respective hangovers. Even with complaints of his hangover extending over into a second day, you had expected him to be itching to throw himself back into his routine, not curled up in bed still feeling shitty.

“You can back to sleep,” you assured, even though he seemed to already be halfway there. “Your coffee’s there if you want some.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to it, closing the door softly on your way out.

Two hours later, Harry stirs once more from his sleep. His throat is dry as a bone, and his once dull headache is now pounding. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow and his eyes fall to his now cold coffee. He reaches over and takes a gulp, hoping to ease the feeling in his throat. Is not uncommon for him to awaken with a dryness to his throat, he often finds a hot coffee is enough to solve the problem, but alas, he is desperate enough to settle for the cold one before him for now. Instead of the relief he is craving, a burst of pain shoots through his throat each time he swallows a mouthful. He coughs as he places the mug back down, unwilling to have another sip.

And oh Jesus, it finally hits him. He’s sick.

All the signs he had shrugged off now became blaringly obvious to him in retrospect. And oh fuck.

Alarm bells go off in his brain as he registers the risk of what exactly this could be. He scrambles for his phone on his bedside table.

Harry: Don’t come upstairs.

You glance down at your phone as you feel the buzz of the notification. You had spent the morning pottering around the house, catching up on little chores the two of you had neglected over the past few days in the Grammy busy-ness and subsequent hangover. Happy with your efforts, you had settled back into having a lazy morning and were watching television on the couch quietly.

“Harry?” you call out in confusion as you read his text, already pausing the TV and standing up, intending to do the exact opposite of following his advice.

You can’t have made it three steps before he’s calling you. The wave of confusion is soon followed by one of extreme worry as you pick up the phone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t come up I’m sick,” he spoke hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

“Darling, it could be covid you can’t come up here,” he was cursing himself on the other end of the line. He should have been paying more attention to what his body was trying to tell him. Shouldn’t have been risking you like this. If he had it, he was sure he had already infected you too and guilt gnawed away at him.

This stops you in your tracks. You hesitate, you do. But ultimately, you know if he has covid, you’re probably already infected. If he does have it, which you are praying he doesn’t because young as he is, healthy as he is, there is always a risk. The worst running through your mind. If the worst were to happen, you would curse yourself until the day you died for not going to him right now.

“It’s not covid,” you tell him firmly.

“Baby-“

“Your tests from before the Grammy’s were negative, and we should be getting more test results back any minute that will be clean too,” you’re on the move again, absolute in your resolution. The both of you, along with all the other attendees of the ceremony, had been tested both before and after. They were meant to text each of you with your results any minute (or call, if they were positive, but that was a possibility you were trying to put aside).

“Even so, we can’t risk it until we get the results.” At the sound of your footsteps on the stairs he spoke your name sternly, halting your steps again.

“Harry,” you countered, matching his tone.

“Please don’t fight me on this. If you’re so sure that the result is going to be negative, and that they’re going to come in any second,” he pauses to cough, lungs and throat protesting with each word he speaks, “then a little while in bed by myself won’t kill me.”

“But-“

“Darling, please. If it is covid, I’ll never forgive myself for not doing everything in my power to try and keep you from getting it too,” the quiet desperation in his voice is the only thing that could break your resolve.

With a long exhale, you turned back down the stairs but kept the phone to your ear.

“Fine,” you huffed, “but only because I was always taught to respect my elders.”

“See that’s the good news,” he half laughed, half coughed at the exhalation of breath, “I’m not an old man with a two-day hangover, just a young man with an unspecified illness.”

“Do you still have your smell and taste?” you asked worriedly.

“I could definitely taste the cold ass coffee I just drank,” he rasped. He paused for a beat, hearing only the rustling of sheets. “And our bed still smells like you,” you heard the smile behind the comment, appreciating his sweet reference to the love he often professes he has for the way you smell.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s nothing you’re putting on, and sometimes I think it’s everything you’re putting on plus just, you. There’s no other smell like it and I wish I could just bottle it up and have it forever. Bloody aphrodisiac,” he had once told you.

“And you’re not running a fever?” You chewed the inside of your lip as you fired questions at him, a bad habit that reared its head when you were worried, stressed or concentrating hard.

On his end of the line, he felt his forehead for warmth. “Umm,” he considered it, “I’m not sure. Probably not.” He was actually pretty sure he had the beginning of one, but he could tell you were freaking out and he didn’t want to worry you any further until he heard for sure.

“I’m going to grab you a thermometer and some cold and flu tablets,” Harry immediately started to protest but you didn’t let him start. “I’ll put a mask on and just leave them outside the door. I’ll grab you some water and something to eat too. I’m not just leaving you sick up there with nothing.”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

You scoffed. “Of course not, I let you win the last one not more than five minutes ago.”

He sighed once more, and you rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend. “Fine, but you have to be in and out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you leaned the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed what you needed for him.

“I’m not joking, y/n. You have to be quick.”

You bit your tongue, refraining from snapping back. Did he seriously think you were stupid? You knew he didn’t, he was just sick and stressed about the situation, but that didn’t stop the flare of annoyance that burst through your chest. You shook it off, knowing it was misplaced.

“Okay I’m going to put the phone down so I can pop a mask on and run up,” luckily, you had a million masks around the house ready to go.

“Kay,” he muttered, eyes feeling droopy all over again.

You pull your mask on, and with arms full of supplies dashed up the stairs. Once you arrived at the door, you placed down the cold medication, water and thermometer as well as the banana you had snatched off the kitchen counter before turning and running back down the stairs.

As soon as you’re back down the stairs, you’re pulling your mask off and putting the phone back to your ear. You faintly hear the close of your bedroom door, deducing Harry had grabbed everything.

“I’m back,” you acknowledged your presence on the phone.

“Thank you for that, my love.”

Your phone dinged in your ear, indicating a new text message. You pulled it away from your ear to examine the contents of the text.

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“They just texted me my covid test results, they’re negative.” Everyone had been tested upon their exit of the Grammy afterparty.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You silently prayed that pause wasn’t caused by him examining another incoming call, suggesting his results were positive and required an actual conversation.

“Mine are negative too,” he exhaled, you could hear the relief in his voice.

“Oh, thank god,” you said, already turning to go back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I thought you were confident I didn’t have it,” he teased.

“Sorry somebody had to put on a brave face for Mr Worry Wart,” you teased right back. You hung up the phone as you reached the top step. Turning to the left and opening the door to your room.

You stride over to the bed wordlessly and climb in on your side, instantly wrapping both arms around him. He relished the embrace. You loved to poke fun at him, but sometimes the humour was just a way for you to mask how you were really feeling about things and deflect. Harry usually doesn’t point it out but he’s always aware of it.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice still croaky.

“I love you, too,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You stayed like that for a moment longer before you swung into action, full nurturing mother bear mode activated.

“Now, have you taken your temperature? Taken some of the cold and flu tablets?”

At the shake of his head you frowned at him. “Come on then. You do that while I go make you a nice hot tea to soothe your throat. And a box of tissues,” you added at the sight of him sneezing practically hard enough to shake the room.

So back down to the kitchen you went for the third time that day, grabbing him both the tea, the tissues and a nice hearty bowl of porridge, figuring it would be gentle on his throat. “Temperature?” you asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of your doorway.

“No fever,” he punctuated with a cough.

You frowned as you watched it happen, his eyes were rimmed red, his nose beginning to run. He sat up in bed as you handed him the bowl of porridge. You placed the tea down so you could also hand him the box of tissues that had been tucked up under your arm.

“Thank you so much for all this, angel. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, I’ve got a cold, I’m not bed bound,” he grabbed my hand and traced the outside of my hand as he spoke.

“I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to do it. My baby’s feeling crappy I just want to do whatever I can to make him feel less so.” Even after all this time of being together, your cheeks flushed slightly at your sappy words. You meant them, of course, but intimacy was still not one of your strong suits. The way you were raised lacked those kinds of affirmations and endearments, and was never modelled practically in your parent’s relationship. It left you both craving it, and feeling uncomfortable when it actually occurred. With both experience and Harry’s help you had gotten better at it, but you still weren’t 100% there yet. He knew one day you would be, though, and he was so proud to see how much progress you had made. Even if you couldn’t always see it.

Hearing those words from you, was just one more indication at how far you’ve come, and it warmed not only his heart, but his whole chest. With his grip on your hand, he gave you a slight tug, encouraging you to lean forward. Just as you had five minutes earlier, he presses a kiss to your cheek, craving your lips but knowing he can’t have them right now.

“You’re too good to me,” he praised as you pulled away reluctantly, giving him space to enjoy his breakfast while it was still warm.

He expected a joking, I know, in response but instead he receives a serious, “There is no such thing as good too to you. You deserve the world.” You don’t break eye contact with him, even as he is too shocked at your response to form one of his own. “But all I got you was this bowl of porridge sorry babe,” you broke the tension, pulling your hand from his.

“Where are you going now?” He pouts at you as you grab the half empty coffee mug and make your way out of the room.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you assure him, already planning how else you are going to fuss over him. He has to be well to go to London to start filming his new movie soon, you reason with yourself. But really, you know he could have nothing coming up and you could be the busiest you’ve ever been, and you would still play nurse for him.

By ‘right back’ he assumed you meant in half an hour, because his mug and bowl are both empty by the time you return, and he is nearly drifting back off to sleep. He is still somewhat upright, but slumped back into his pillow, head lolling to the side slightly, directed towards the door almost as though is watching and waiting for you. While still conscious, his blinks are becoming slower and slower, reminiscent of a baby. You coo at his adorable sleepy state, the moment tugs at your chest so strongly it is almost physically painful. Sometimes, the magnitude of your love for him nearly sweeps you off your feet. You just feel so damn lucky to have these wonderfully domestic moments with him. To see him like this, to be his person that gets to take care of him. While he is a rockstar and you get to do all sorts of crazy things with him that most people dream of (like for instance, watching him perform at and accept a Grammy), you love doing everyday life with him.

“It’s not quite sleep time yet, baby,” you spoke gently, hoping not to startle him too much.

He peeled his eyes open and pouted at you once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’s nice, long, hot, steaming shower time,” his frown deepened, clearly not wanting to move. “I promise you, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“You promise?” He refused to wipe the pout from his face, really stepping into being babied.

“I promise, now up you get,” you offered him both hands to help him up.

“Fine,” he groaned as he took your hands, and you pulled him up.

As soon as he was upright, he wrapped both arms around you and held you tight. He allowed himself a few short seconds before pulling away, not wanting to get you sick too. Even if it wasn’t covid, he still wanted his love well.

You shepherded him into the bathroom, where he winced once more at the brighter lighting. His eyes were always more sensitive to light when he had the flu. You turned the shower on for him while he got undressed, before turning to pull the blinds closed without him breathing a single word of complaint. His heart swelled with love for you for the hundredth time that day. To be loved by you was to be seen. He didn’t need to use his voice to be understood (though that communication obviously had its place).

“Take your time baby, let the steam help get all the bad stuff out,” you gave him a little smile before leaving, closing the door behind you to allow the steam to build up within the space.

Harry let out a sigh as he stepped into the stream of hot steaming water. You were right as ever, the steam helped clear him out somewhat, and even just feeling clean helped him to feel better already. He relished the heat and the soothing feeling of the water, massaging his scalp with shampoo as he began to wash up from head to toe.

He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he reluctantly turned the shower off and stepped into a big fluffy towel. He was much quicker in drying himself than he had been in the rest of his shower routine, eager to rug up in a jumper and some sweats (and some of those thick soft socks you bought him for winter).

He swung the en suite door open, contemplating where he left his comfy winter clothes last when he stops at the sight before him.

You’re putting the last pillowcase on, having changed the sheets completely. His breakfast dishes are cleared, replaced with a hot steaming bowl of vegetable soup and his bottle of water. You’ve dug the humidifier out of the cupboard as well and you’ve got it all set up and running for him. The book he was currently reading was picked up from its previous place on the living room coffee table and waiting for him on your pillow. The exact clothes he was about to grab were sitting at the edge of the bed, laid out ready for him.

“You’re an actual angel, ya know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He has no idea what he did in a past life to get so lucky. The success of the music, he can go to bed each night feeling like he has done a lot to earn. He’s worked hard for a long time, and while he accredited a good portion of it all to luck, he knew he wasn’t talentless or undeserving. With you, however, he had simply won the lottery. You weren’t a perfect person, but you were his perfect person. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to feel deserving of you.

“Only for you,” you say softly.

He strides over to you, holding his towel to keep it from falling as he went. He presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters an, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you peer up at him. “Now get those on,” you gesture towards his clothes, “before your soup gets cold.”

“Where did the soup come from?” He asks as starts to shrug his towel off and pull his clothes on.

“Where did you think I went earlier?” you referenced your half hour long disappearance, having been downstairs chopping up and preparing vegetables to go into the homemade soup.

“Oh, angel,” he breathed, “you really are the best.”

“Oh stop. Don’t act like all of this is not exactly what you do every time I’m sick. Which is far more often than you are, I might add.” You weren’t wrong, he did baby you just as much if not more.

“You’re still the best,” he refused to relent.

“Yeah, yeah,” you end the conversation, not being able to handle too many compliments.

He lets it slide, knowing he could compliment you further and ask you to really hear what he was saying, because he meant it with his entire being. But you were doing so much for him, and he really was tired so he didn’t bombard you with more praise than you desired.

Once he was dressed, he hopped back under the covers and sat up with his soup. He didn’t have the appetite to finish it, but he knew as much of it as he could handle would do him some good.

You jumped into the shower yourself, wanting to feel as clean as the sheets did when you got into bed with him. By the time you were out of the shower and into your own pair of fresh comfy clothes, Harry had finished most of the bowl of soup and had set the remainder aside.

“Thank you so much, angel,” your cheeks tinted pink at the purposeful repetition of that particular pet name.

“Don’t mention it,” you crawled under the covers with him, picking up his book from your pillow. “Now, where were you up to?”

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“In your book, where were you up to?”

“Why?”

“So, I can read it to you, obviously.”

“Is that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you think I’m suddenly incapable of reading it myself?” He questioned, even though he was practically preening internally at the thought of your sweet voice reading his novel aloud to him. It was a beautiful novel, filled with rich descriptions and he just knew it would sound lovely rolling off your tongue, but you had already done so much for him today it was hardly for of him to let you offer this without giving you an out.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, I just know your eyes hurt when you’re sick and I can imagine it makes it hard to focus on the words. Plus, I always fancied a career in audiobooks,” you actually really wanted to do this for him, not viewing it as an inconvenience at all. In fact, you would probably find yourself disappointed if he told you he would rather read it himself.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” he looked you in the eyes, gauging your expression.

“I want to,” you promised.

“About page 150, you might have to read the first sentence to check.”

So, you began reading, until his eyes grew heavier and his eyes drooped. Slowly but surely, he drifted off into the realm of peaceful deep sleep.

Not before, of course, he muttered, more than half asleep, “I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ: Discovering the sacred in the profane.

The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.

- Michelangelo Buonarroti

While a visit to Rome’s grand squares like Piazza Navona is at the top of everyone’s list, there is much more to the Eternal City. The Piazza della Minerva, is one of Rome’s more peculiar squares and is a must-see for lovers of Bernini’s work.

As one of the smaller squares in Rome, Piazza della Minerva holds some interesting sites. Built during Roman times, the square derives its name from the Goddess, Minerva, the Roman Goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare. During the 13th Century, the decision was made to build a Christian Church on top of what was once a square dedicated to a pagan Goddess – and so the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva was born, a beautiful example of Gothic architecture and Rome’s only Gothic church.

In fact this is the only Gothic church in Rome. It resembles the famous Church of Santa Maria Novella in Florence. There are three aisles inside the church. The soaring arches and the ceiling in blue are outstanding. The deep blue colours dominate the structure while the golden touches promote the intricate design. There are paintings of gold stars and saints. The stained glass windows are beautiful too.

In the centre of the Piazza is an elephant with an Egyptian obelisk on its back, one of Bernini’s last sculptures erected by Bernini for Pope Alexander VII and possibly one of the most unusual sculptures in Rome. There are several theories which aim to decipher Bernini’s inspiration for the sculpture, some of which point to Bernini’s study of the first elephant to visit Rome, while others point to a more satirical combination of a pagan stone with a baroque elephant in front of a Christian church.

Tourists flock to see the elephant but more often than not they miss out visiting an almost forgotten marble masterpeiece by Michelangelo himself inside the church. This controversial statue has resided in the Santa Maria sopra Minerva Church in Rome for almost five hundred years. Indeed The Risen Christ by Michelangelo is one of the artist's least admired works. While modern observers frequently have found fault with the statue, it satisfied its patrons enormously and was widely admired by contemporaries. Not least, the sculpture has suffered from the manner in which it is presently displayed and from biased photographic reproduction that emphasises unfavorable and inappropriate views of Christ.

Around 2017 I was fortunate on a visit back to London to see once again Michelangelo’s marble masterpiece, The Risen Christ, which was being displayed in all its naked glory at an exhibition at the National Gallery.

This was another version of this great sculpture that no one has got round to covering up. It has just come to Britain. Michelangelo’s first version has been lent to the National Gallery, in London, for its exhibition Michelangelo and Sebastiano del Piombo in 2017. It came from San Vincenzo Monastery in Bassano Romano, where it languished in obscurity until it was recognised as Michelangelo’s lost work in 1997.

I found it profoundly moving then as I had seen the other partially clothed one on several visits to the church in Rome. It has always perplexed me why this beautiful work of art has been either shunned to the side with hidden shame or embarrassment when it holds up such profound sacred truth for both art lover or a Christian believer (or both as I am).

Michelangelo made a contract in June 1514 AD that he would make a sculpture of a standing, naked figure of Christ holding a cross, and that the sculpture would be completed within four years of the contract. Michelangelo had a problem because the marble he started carving was defective and had a black streak in the area of the face. His patrons, Bernardo Cencio, Mario Scapucci, and Metello Vari de' Pocari, were wondering what happened when they hadn't heard for a while from Michelangelo. Michelangelo had stopped work on The Risen Christ due to the blemish in the marble, and he was working on another project, the San Lorenzo facade. Michelangelo felt grief because this project of The Risen Christ was delayed. Michelangelo ordered a new marble block from Pisa which was to arrive on the first boat. When The Risen Christ was finally finished in March 1521 AD Michelangelo was only 46 years old.

It was transported to Rome and this 80.75 inches tall marble statue was installed at the left pillar of the choir in the church Santa Maria sopra Minerva, by Pietro Urbano, Michelangelo's assistant (Hughes, 1999). It turns out that Urbano did a finish to the feet, hands, nostrils, and beard of Christ, that many friends of Michelangelo described as disastrous). Furthermore, later-on in history, nail-holes were pierced in Christ's hands, and Christ's genitalia were hidden behind a bronze loincloth.

Because people have changed this sculpture over time; many are disappointed with this work of art because it is presently different than the original work that Michelangelo made. The Risen Christ had no title during Michelangelo's lifetime. This sculpture was given the name it has now, because Christ is standing like the traditional resurrected saviour, as seen in other similar works of art.

It was in discussion with an art historian friend of mine currently teaching I was surprised through her to discover the sculpture’s uncomfortably controversial history. There is no doubt Michelangelo’s marvellous marble creation has  raised robust debates about where beauty as an aesthetic sits between the sacred and the profane. And nothing exemplifies that better than the phallus on Michelangelo’s The Risen Christ.

For the majority of its time there, however, the phallus has been carefully draped with a bronze loincloth - incongruous at best, and prudish at worst, but either way a less than subtle display of the historic Church’s discomfort with the full physicality of Christ.

Indeed, it is worth noting that this attitude prevails, at least in some sense, into the twentieth-century: the version of the statue in Rome remains covered to this day, and much of the critical attention the sculpture has received after Michelangelo’s death has been grating. Romain Rolland, an early biographer, described it as ‘the coldest and dullest thing he ever did’, whilst Linda Murray bluntly dubbed the work ‘Michelangelo’s chief and perhaps only total failure’. But Michelangelo himself saw no such mistake. The censored statue seen in Santa Maria sopra Minerva is what we might call his second draft.

It’s interesting to note that when artist was originally commissioned to sculpt a risen Christ in 1514, he had all but completed it before realising that a vein of black marble ran across Jesus’ face, marring the image of classical perfection which he so wished to emulate. It had nothing to do with the phallus. Furious, Michelangelo abandoned this Christ - the one I saw at the National Gallery - and began again. Even given a fresh chance, he chose to retain Christ’s complete nudity.

Why was this of such importance to Michelangelo? Why did he so strongly wish to craft the literal manhood of Christ, as never depicted before? Part of the answer may lie in his historical context: the Renaissance in Italy was driven in the part by the remains of Roman antiquity discovered there; study of the classics became commonplace, and scholars tended to consider the Graeco-Roman world as a cultural ideal, with ancient art in particular being emblematic of a lost Golden Age. Famously, classical sculpture was almost always nude.

In his interview with The Telegraph in 2015, Ian Jenkins, curator of the British Museum exhibition “Defining Beauty: The Body in Ancient Greek Art”, attempted to explain this tradition. ‘The Greeks … didn’t walk down the High Street in Athens naked … But to the Greeks [nudity] was the mark of a hero. It was not about representing the literal world, but a world which was mythologised.’

We see evidence for this trend in Greek literature as well as sculpture: Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, considered by some to be the earliest known works of Western literature, were likely written between the 8th and 7th centuries BC, but their setting is in Mycenaean Greece in the 12th century. The Greeks believed that this earlier Bronze Age was an epoch of heroism, wherein gods walked the earth alongside mortals and the human experience was generally more sublime. In setting the texts at this earlier stage in Greece’s history, Homer echoes the belief held within his contemporary society that mankind had been better before (what we might now call nostalgia, or, more colloquially, “The Good Old Days syndrome”). There is a real feeling of delight present in the distance Homer creates between his actual, flawed society, and the idealised past.

Indeed, it calls to mind a line I once read in an introduction to L.P. Hartley’s The Go-Between, by Douglas Brookes-Davies: ‘Memory idealises the past’. Though modernist texts such as The Go-Between problematise this, in antiquity it was not only commonplace but celebrated to look back to a more perfect existence and relive it through art. The very fact that Michelangelo abandoned his sculpture after years of work on account of a barely noticeable flaw in the marble is evidence that he, too, was striving towards the classical ideal of perfection. ‘Unfortunately,’ Hazel Stanier has commented, ‘this has resulted in unintentionally making Christ appear like a pagan god.’

This opens up another question – why does such a rift exist between the way ancient cultures envisaged their divinity and our own conceptions of a Christian God? Why are we not allowed to anthropomorphise the deus of the Bible in the same way that the Roman gods were?

Christ, of course, makes this somewhat confusing, given that he is described in the Bible as ‘the Word made flesh’, a physical and very human incarnation of the spiritual being that we call God. Theology tells us that he is fully human and fully divine, and yet the Church have excluded him from many aspects of life that a majority of us see as typifying a human being. Christ has no apparent sexual desires or romantic relationships, and though not exempt from suffering, he does not play any part in sin (which, as the saying goes, is ‘only human’). I think that the enormous controversy caused by films such as The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), which explore the possibility of Jesus having a sex life, is reflective of the possibility that - though in theory the Christian messiah is fully human - we feel significant discomfort at the notion that he may have explored particular aspects of the human experience.

Purists and the prude and liberals rush to opposite sides of the debate. If purists run one way to completely deny Christ had any sexual desires or even inclinations as all humans are want to do, liberals commit the sin of rushing to the other extreme end and presuppose that Jesus did act on sexual impulses simply because it was inevitable of his human nature.

I think the truth lies somewhere between but what that truth might actually be is simply speculation on my part. It doesn’t detract for me the life and saving mission of redemption that Jesus was on - to suffer and die for our sins as well as the Godhead reconciling itself to sacrificing the Son for Man’s sins and just punishment.  

Of course, it is well-known that the classical gods had no qualms about sexual activity. It is difficult to make retrospective judgements about citizens’ opinions on this but, as it was the norm, we might assume that they felt it was rather a non-issue. I can empathise with some critics who reason that the Christian God is not entitled to sexual expression is because of the traditional Christian idea that sex is inherently sinful – that original sin is passed on seminally and so by having sex we continue to spread darkness and provoke further transgression. It is from this early idea that theological issues such as the need for Mary to have been immaculately conceived (she was not created out of a sexual union, much like her son) have stemmed. But here - the immaculate conception - the critics are profoundly wrong in their theological understanding of why God had to enter the world as Immanuel in this miraculous way.

Some Christian critics - and I would agree with them - assert that the vision of a naked Christ might make a powerful theological point in a world where sex still carries these connotations. They rightly point out that clothing - and I might extend this to mean the covering-up of the sexual parts of our body - was only adopted by humankind after the Fall, the nudity of Christ is making a statement about his unfallen nature as the second Adam. In other words, Christ has no shame, because he is sinless and has no need for shame. Perhaps what Michelangelo intended was actually to disentangle nudity from its sexual, sinful associations, instead presenting us with a pre-lapsarian image of purity taking the form of the classical Bronze Age hero.

There is another, less theological explanation for the sculptor’s obvious use of the classical form. It reminds us of a time when gods walked the earth alongside us, when they were fully human – us, only immortal. Maybe he wanted to emphasise that fully human aspect of Christ’s being. Questionable as much of their behaviour was, the classical gods were certainly easy to identify with. For Michelangelo, this may have been his own way of embodying John 1:14 in marble: ‘The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us’.

It is here critics may have gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick with The Risen Christ when they point out the odd proportions of the figure: that it has a weighty torso, or the broad hips atop a pair of tapered and rather spindly legs, or even a side or rear view of the figure that show Christ’s buttocks.

For a start, this ungainly rear view was not supposed to be seen. The statue was meant to go in a wall niche, so that the back of the statue was hidden. Michelangelo of course knew this, and shaped the statue so that it would appear well proportioned from the front. If we view the sculpture from the front left, perhaps its best side, then Christ is no longer a thickset figure. Rather, his body merges with the cross in a graceful and harmonious composition.

The turn of Christ’s body and his averted face suggest something like the shunning of physical contact that is central to another post-Resurrection subject, the Noli me tangere (“Touch Me Not”). The turned head is a poignant way of making Christ seem inaccessible even as the reality of his living flesh is manifest.

We are encouraged to look at not Christ’s face, but the instruments of his Passion. Our attention is directed to the cross by the effortless cross-body gesture of the left arm and the entwining movement of the right leg. With his powerful but graceful hands, Christ cradles the cross, and the separated index fingers direct us first to the cross and then heavenward. Christ presents us with the symbols of his Passion – the tangible recollection of his earthly suffering. Behind Christ and barely visible between his legs we see the cloth in which Christ was wrapped when he was in the tomb. He has just shed the earthly shroud; it is in the midst of slipping to earth. In this suspended instant, Christ is completely and properly nude.

We must imagine how the figure must have appeared in its original setting, within the darkened confines of an elevated niche. Christ steps forth, as though from the tomb and the shadow of death. Foremost are the symbols of the Passion, which Christ will leave behind when he ascends to heaven.

Why was Michelangelo compelled to portray Christ completely naked in a way that was bound to trouble some Christians? It was not out of a desire to blaspheme. On the contrary, this genius – poet, architect and painter as well as the greatest sculptor who has ever lived – was not only a faithful Christian but someone who thought deeply about theology. You can bet he had good religious reasons to depict Christ in full nudity.

But it would be complacent to think there was no tension in showing Christ nude. The fact that The Risen Christ in Santa Maria still has its covering proves how real those tensions are. The fundamental reason Michelangelo could get away with it was that he was Michelangelo. By the time he created this statue, he had the Sistine Chapel ceiling (with all its male nudes) under his belt and was the most famous artist in the world.

For centuries, the faithful have kissed the advanced foot of Christ, for like Mary Magdalene and doubting Thomas, they wish for some sort of physical contact with the Risen Christ. To carve a life-size marble statue of a naked Christ certainly was audacious, but it is also theologically appropriate. Michelangelo’s contemporaries recognised, more easily than modern viewers, that the Risen Christ was a moving and profoundly beautiful sculpture that was true to the sacred story.

[alwaysmychoices]

The Memorial

Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.

Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: T (language)

tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk

disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.

That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.

There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.

Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.

For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.

But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.

Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.

Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.

The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.

But they hadn’t touched the root of it.

They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.

They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.

Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.

But Ethan knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.

Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.

“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.

“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.

“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”

Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.

Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.

Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.

“Will you be attending the memorial today?”

He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.

Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.

It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.

“Is that today?”

Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”

Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.

As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!

They…

They died for her.

Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.

“I have to go, Ethan.”

“No, you don’t.”

They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.

“Ethan.”

“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”

“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”

“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”

Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.

But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.

All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.

“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”

Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.

She owed it to Bobby and Danny…

“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”

He’s scared, she realized quietly.

It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.

Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?

Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.

He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

But really, they needed it equally.

They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.

“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.

“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.

She loved him so, so much.

“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.

Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I will be!” Charlie insisted.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.

Charlie wished he would anyway.

She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.

They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.

Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”

She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”

Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.

She was free.

They were both free.

Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.

“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.

“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”

“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.

“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”

Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.

But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.

She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.

It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.

Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.

“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.

When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.

She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.

But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.

Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.

It was a powerful and cheerful time.

But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.

She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.

It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.

They never made it out.

Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.

But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.

She wouldn’t let it stop her.

What makes you so deserving to get out?

Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.

They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.

She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.

They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.

Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.

“They deserved life more, you bitch.”

“You only lived because you’re a coward.”

“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”

Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.

It followed her.

It was everywhere.

The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.

Like the infection that should have killed her.

Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.

She didn’t always know where she was.

Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?

Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.

Somehow, she made it home.

She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Then she realized she was just staring at her building.

She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.

Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.

She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.

A mile later, she finally decided.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.

The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.

Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.

“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.

“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”

“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.

A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”

When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.

Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.

While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.

“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.

Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”

Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”

“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”

Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.

“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.

He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.

Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.

Charlie accepted.

They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.

Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.

“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.

“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.

“I am.”

Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.

“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.

“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.

Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.

“Does it stay like this?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.

Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.

But Rafael told her the truth instead.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”

His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.

“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”

Rafael looked terrified.

He was, he realized belatedly.

Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.

“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”

Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.

“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.

“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”

Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.

When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.

The silence was nice.

Neither of them expected anything from the other.

They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…

Maybe they should have stayed.

But they didn’t.

Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.

Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.

“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.

Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.

“Thank you for making it out of that room.”

Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.

They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.

“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.

He smiled softly, and then she left.

This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.

It was… eerily the same.

Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.

Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.

The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.

Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.

She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…

It surrounded her.

It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.

She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.

She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.

She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.

Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.

When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.

The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.

Then…

She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?

She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.

Charlie screamed.

No. No, Charlie really screamed.

She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.

She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.

She slid. Or maybe she sat down.

But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.

She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.

In the water, that it would wash away her pain.

In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.

In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.

But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.

Then…

When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.

Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.

And then it was over.

What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.

Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.

Everything looked the same, but…

But the sun was lower.

Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.

An hour.

She had lost an hour.

The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.

It was… Ethan.

And he was dressed in a suit.

Why was he-?

The memorial.

Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.

He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…

Confused.

And scared.

Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…

“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”

“Three,” Ethan answered.

“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.

Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.

The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.

What was it?

How did he help her?

“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.

“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”

“For how long, Charlotte?”

Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.

He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”

Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.

She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.

But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.

Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.

He only cared that he had her.

“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”

“Ethan!”

“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.

“I have to be there!”

“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”

He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.

“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.

“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.

“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.

Ethan felt a moment of pause.

The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.

His heart broke.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.

And he caved.

He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.

He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”

Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.

Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.

Why couldn’t she just be okay?!

Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.

Ethan didn’t believe her.

Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”

She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.

Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.

Then, she was ready…

And he had to take her.

Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.

Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.

He never left her.

Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.

It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.

When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”

Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.

But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”

Charlie considered it.

In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.

She couldn’t even hear it.

“I think I want to go home,” she replied.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”

Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.

In the car, Ethan held her hand.

The fog was back and even stronger.

Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.

Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.

Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.

Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…

He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.

He didn’t want to grieve.

Neither did she.

He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.

Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.

Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”

Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.

“Not at all.”

Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.

“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.

But really, did she even feel safe there?

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips,  “We still can.”

Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”

“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.

“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.

Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…

When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.

“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

“So am I.”

Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…

They happened.

They were real.

They followed her anyway.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”

Something was stabbing her.

Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.

“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.

She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or maybe she could…

She panted, trying to just fucking decide.

The fog was gone. The haze left.

And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.

Nothing came to save her from the feeling.

She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.

The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.

No, she was wrong.

There was one thing to hold on to.

And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.

Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.

That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written. 

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[gainerstories]

Fatter Exchange Student: Chapter 7

This is a community story with each chapter authored by a different writer in the gaining community. This chapter is penned by Feeder86.

Read prior chapters here.

Bleecker stood in the middle of the changing rooms feeling more powerful than he ever had in his entire life. Tonight’s training had been mostly tackling skills and he had gone all out. One guy stood to the side, rotating his aching shoulder, whilst another was stretching out his heavily bruised thigh; both of them having taken a huge blow from Bleecker out on the field.

“You alright, guys?” he asked; a sadistic grin wanting to spread across his face.

He might not be able to keep up with these guys when running, but with his added weight, he could throw them around like twigs.

In return, Bleecker received displeased frowns, making him chuckle a little to himself. He shrugged his shoulders, as if he were oblivious as to why they were so moody with him. He lifted off his sweat-drenched rugby shirt and caught the many little glances from one guy to the next, as they all took in the size of his uncovered, monstrously swollen stomach. It was getting bigger every week, and every one of them could see it. His chest was massive and muscular; stronger than he had ever been in his life. Yet he had grown a genuinely huge gut, fat-filled and bloated; creating a distinctive, ball-like appearance under his shirts.

Bleecker lived for these displays, willing everyone to look at his body and see how big he was growing. He pulled down his shorts and then his underwear, completely comfortable with his own nudity; enjoying making an exhibition of himself. And why not? He was the largest man on this team by almost one hundred pounds. He strutted to the showers, throwing his arms out that little bit more, to really emphasise the point. If this team was going to have an alpha male, he had no doubt that it would be him.

“Oh, you’re back!” smiled Sebastian, as Bleecker strutted in through the door that evening. “How was training?”

“Awesome!” Bleecker smirked, throwing his bag on the floor and heading straight to the refrigerator for his full-fat milk.

He lifted the gallon-sized container and began chugging it down, feeling his stomach bloat and swell. He swallowed and swallowed, trying to take as much as he could in one go. Then, with less than half remaining, he paused, lowering the milk and giving off a tremendous, roaring burp. Upon hearing it, Sebastian laughed and nodded in approval.

“That was a noisy one!” he smiled. “Someone was thirsty after rugby training, huh? I’ve never seen anyone take down as much milk as you can!”

Bleecker smirked confidently. Words could not describe how much he loved people commenting on his massive appetite and capacity. He could feel his crotch stirring almost instantly. But he loved it even more when it was Sebastian doing the commenting. Over the last few months that he had lived here, the handsome Greek boy had puffed up like a blowfish. That conventionally attractive Mediterranean body had altered beyond all recognition. The guy’s hips had packed on the blubber, ruining the previously slender butt and developing love handles that seemed to peek out of his shirts, no matter what he wore.

His face was soft and flabby looking, with massive fat-filled cheeks taking away his cheekbones, and a new double chin, masking what was otherwise a very handsome jawline. Sebastian’s chest now resembled two mounds of blubber, with pointed and almost sagging nipples straining against the material of his shirts. But below that was the best of all; a full and round pot belly that seemed to be swelling each and every day.

He wondered what Sebastian’s friends and family would say back at home. Would they be shocked and disappointed with him? Would they point the finger of blame at his new chubby boyfriend? Or, even better, would they accuse his monstrously-sized housemate for helping him to pick up bad eating habits? Damn! Even this thought was getting him hard!

Things were finally starting to return to normal between the pair of them after that rather awkward kiss. He didn’t know what had caused him to lose himself like that. Sebastian had tried to talk to him about it a few times afterwards, but Bleecker had shrugged him off; making a joke about being overly tired and a little hungover that morning. Felix had been around the apartment more and more over the last few weeks and hadn’t had it out with him for hitting on his boyfriend. There could be only one reason for that, Bleecker concluded; Sebastian hadn’t told him.

“Is Felix coming over tonight?” Bleecker asked.

“Not tonight,” Sebastian replied, shaking his head. “He has an assignment due tomorrow, so he’s working on that.”

Bleecker nodded, feeling both pleased and disappointed. It was nice to have Sebastian to himself, but he also loved seeing chubby Felix about the place. The thought of him and Sebastian having sex in the room next to him made him even more aroused than usual. He imagined their overfed chubby bodies touching each other, admiring their shapes and fresh fat. Not only that, but Felix seemed to be highly skilled at getting Sebastian to eat even more than usual, with the pair of them having incredibly greedy appetites; real, genuine gluttony that was only surpassed by his own. That was why both of them seemed to be packing on the fat at an ever increasing pace. Their clothes fitted awkwardly around their new flesh, unflatteringly hugging love-handles, back fat and moobs. Bleecker began to wonder what would become of them both if they both carried on this path; but that thought aroused him even more.

“Never mind,” Bleecker sighed. “I hope he gets it finished tonight.”

“I was going to order some pizza, if you wanted to join me?” Sebastian suddenly asked, as Bleecker began to walk away. His voice had a strange pleading tone to it, as if he were suddenly desperate to keep Bleecker from heading into his bedroom for the night.

Still clutching his gallon of milk and his stomach stubbornly full from the take-out he’d picked up on the way home, Bleecker hadn’t really intended to eat anything else tonight. But he’d made a promise to himself to never say no to food. How else was he going to keep upping his size and knocking those guys down on his team like bowling pins?  

“Sure,” he nodded nonchalantly. “I’m always up for some pizza.”

An hour later, Bleecker sat, puffing like a whale in the lounge. If there was one downside to all this extra weight, it was these damned humid nights where he simply couldn’t cool down. Before the pizzas had arrived, he’d taken himself for a cold shower and now sat there on the couch in only his underwear, still feeling the creeping sweat spread across his large body. He packed two pizzas into his stomach, feeling its heat firing up the furnace of his gut, and he took massive swigs of his milk, until even that had gone. It was so freaking hot tonight, he complained bitterly within his own head.

“Finished already?” asked Sebastian from the other chair.

“Yeah,” nodded Bleecker, feeling the stretch of his own stomach and noting with pride that Sebastian was over half way through his own second pizza. The guy’s appetite had really come along since he’d been here.

“Try stacking the slices on top of each other when you eat. It helps you to get it down faster,” he advised the chubby boy, like a professional. “Is yours the extra-cheese option?” he asked, taking a peek, and feeling surprised to feel his mouth watering at the sight and smell of it.

“Yeah, double cheese and the four meat feast pizza,” Sebastian nodded, sighing and slapping his round, fat little belly.

Bleecker chuckled and smirked. He could remember the time when he too would have found eating all that difficult.

“Good man,” he nodded, wishing that the guy would take his shirt off so that he could see how round and bloated all this would be making his stomach.

He wanted to get up and get some ice cream, but he felt too aroused. Going in just his underwear had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he felt completely trapped; unless he didn’t mind Sebastian seeing what all of this eating was doing for his crotch.

“Come on, Sebastian!” he coaxed from the sofa, as the chubby guy continued to try and push it down. “There aren’t many American guys who could eat all that, but I know you can do it!”

Smiling, Sebastian stacked his remaining slices and pushed them down. Bleecker could see that his roommate was uncomfortably full. Each chew was an effort and every swallow an unbelievable achievement. He knew Sebastian’s pain, for he too had trained his body to take these massive quantities. He was still training though, every day becoming a little bit greedier.

“That was pretty good!” Bleecker nodded from the couch, his huge arms spread across the back of the cushions. This was the only place he would sit in the lounge these days; right in the middle of the sofa, as if he was training himself to fill the large space. “You’ve eaten almost as much as me!”

Sebastian seemed delighted by the observation. “I’ll be big enough to play rugby like you, if I carry on eating like this!”

Bleecker burst out laughing, assuming that Sebastian was joking. “You’re serious?” he questioned apologetically, when he realised that he wasn’t. “Rugby?”

“Well, you like rugby, and Felix used to play in high school. But I thought you needed a bit of weight on you to play the game?” Sebastian asked innocently.

“That really depends on your position,” Bleecker considered. He looked at Sebastian’s body, wondering how well he could get around a field; not very well, was his guess. “Stand up,” he ordered curiously. “I want to have a look at you.”

Sebastian smiled and did as he was told; taking his shirt off at the same time. He stood there and tensed his relatively small muscles, concealed well under the mounting layers of blubber.

“Well, you’ve got potential,” Bleecker nodded, trying to hide his arousal.

With Sebastian’s shirt off, he could see every inch of fresh fat: the love handles, the nipples, the stretch marks decorating the skin surrounding his deep belly button. Not only that, but without a shirt on, Bleecker could see just how thick, wide and protrusive Sebastian’s butt had grown, above his flabby unconditioned thighs. He beckoned Sebastian closer and lifted the fattened exchange student’s arms up so that he could inspect his body even more. Damn! Look at those love handles!

“So, I have potential, huh?” Sebastian asked, almost flirtatiously.

Bleecker couldn’t resist; he’d tried for so long. He placed a hand on Sebastian’s butt and another on the furthest expanse of the boy’s tight belly; just marvelling at his new, blubbery thickness. This was what he wanted. This was what he was going to have. All this fat that hadn’t been there a few months ago; and who could tell how big he’d be getting within another few months?

“Not for rugby. Not a chance!” he clarified to Sebastian, unable to resist giving a little shake with his strong hands, making the fat ripple through the boy’s middle. “But you definitely have potential, nonetheless…”

“Am I too fat for rugby?” Sebastian asked, clearly aroused and seemingly desperate for Bleecker to agree with him.

He placed his hand over Bleecker’s fingers, that were resting on his gut, and then made them pinch around his new, lardy stomach fat.

“Am I too fat, Bleecker?” he asked, more seriously and flirtatious than ever.

Bleecker’s arousal was spiking beyond belief. Here he was holding one of the guys he had been flirting with for so long. This chub was saying all the right things and hitting each one of his kinks.

“Not yet…” Bleecker replied confidently, surprised at how bold he felt, even without a few beers down him tonight.

Then he squeezed Sebastien’s large, buttery glute and shook it, admiring just how soft and pliable it was getting.

“But… I can make you too fat, if you want?” he grinned, suddenly taking his hand away from Sebastian’s oversized butt so that he could rub his own, massive ball-gut. “I can make all three of us far, far too fat!”

Sebastian looked curiously at Bleecker. “All three of us?” he asked in confusion.

To receive early access to Fatter Exchange Student and other exclusive stories check out the Gainer Stories Patreon.

[illuminatedquill]

“There is a story about the greek gods. They were bored, so they invented human beings, but they were still bored, so they invented love. Then they weren't bored any longer, so they decided to try love for themselves. And finally they invented laughter, so they could stand it.”

- Morgan Freeman, ‘Feast of Love’

Today’s Nevertheless rant is going to be about love; specifically, the types exhibited by the three main players in our love triangle: Park Jae-un, Yu Nabi, and Yang Dohyeok.

First up: Park Jae-un. (hate his guts)

Ludus/Mania

The Ludus style of love is characterized as someone who views love as a game to win. People who exhibit this love style are comfortable with using any means of deception or manipulation to win over their love interest and are only in it for the short term. They tend to avoid commitments in relationships and are emotionally distant. They are also sexually vigorous since they are focused on the short term only.

So, yeah. Fits Jae-un perfectly, at least for the beginning half of the drama. After the “break-up”, however, we see him morph into a different type of love style: Mania.

Mania is the obsessive love style. People who exhibit this type of love are often in need of constant reassurance from their partner (in his case, Nabi) and also tend to be possessive with their significant other, as well. Since Nabi is absolutely failing in the communication department with him, that possessiveness became more pronounced, resulting in their confrontation in episode 7.

Jae-un, I despise the most because his qualities of love are ones that I recognize in myself from years ago. I’ve been there. I know how it twists your thoughts, drives you to justify your actions because it’s all for love, right? For me, he’ll never be a good partner for Nabi. There’s something too hungry and needy in his eyes. He corners Nabi like a lion with a wounded gazelle. He rarely answers honestly and tends to twist words and situations around to gaslight and make Nabi feel bad: “I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?/ It was my birthday. Why didn’t you call me?” It’s always back to him, him, him; how it makes him feel. Never about Nabi’s feelings except for how they affect him: “I haven’t been well.”

And speaking of Nabi, she’s next.

Eros

Yu Nabi, in my opinion, is an example of Eros style of love. Eros is described as the romantic, fairy-tale love. Attraction is immediate and heavy for these love styles and they fall fast and hard. They usually want to deepen the relationship emotionally and physically. They love the feeling of being in love.

You’re probably thinking, “huh?” Nabi, the self-professed love cynic is an Eros?

Well, yes. A cynic is just a burned out romantic, after all. And the description does line up with Nabi’s actions.

It’s implied in the series that Nabi wasn’t always burned out of love. Recent events have made her cynical towards it but her continued want of love and reassurance and stability from Jae-un (who is, so far, unable to give it in a way that is satisfactory for her) is telling that she actually really does believe in love after all. Also, it didn’t take long for her to want more from Jae-un after they started hooking up.

Yes, Nabi, the fairytale heroine, stuck in a never ending loop with Jae-un. She still wants the happy ending, the passionate, all consuming love she yearns for in the fairytalesfrom Jae-un. And it’s wrong. Because real love isn’t a fairytale and requires hard work, trust, and communication. You can keep kissing the frog, Nabi, but it will not turn into a Prince.

If they are unable to resolve their issues, both internal and with each other, any kind of relationship they decide to have will not survive. (GOOD, IT’S WHAT THEY DESERVE)

Last, but certainly not the least, the best boy: Yang Dohyeok.

Storge/Agape

Storge is a friendship based love style; these types value a relationship based on psychological closeness, companionship, and trust. This kind of love grows from a deep friendship, like spring grass creeping up after a long frost. Storge love types are committed and enduring in their relationships.

Dohyeok, the childhood friend. It makes perfect sense but I would argue that he exhibits one more love type; the hardest one, considered to be fairly rare in this day and age (also my favorite and, in my opinion, the one we should all aspire to): agape.

Agape: selfless snd unconditional love. A love that seeks no audience, no reward. Love for who you are and nothing more. Agape love types are caring, giving individuals focused on their partner’s needs. I would argue that everything Dohyeok has done, since we first saw his dazzling smile, has been in service to Nabi. The umbrella, the seaweed soup, the bowl of noodles, the lipstick, the beach date, the blanket, the bike ride. He has never asked for anything in return from her. Dohyeok has always been a breathe of fresh air in this drama and this is one of the reasons why I adore his character so much - and why I’m so heart sick at the pain coming his way.

[henryobsessed]

The Widow and the Witcher  Chapter Two

Summery: Julia had purchased Geralt, but will she be able to heal him?

Word count: 2800

Warning: Mention of effects of abuse

A/N Eager for Constructive criticism :) 

Chapter Two

The trip home was longer than expected. Tobias after completing the sale helped to lead the men to the cart, Kias had insisted that the Witcher remain caged. "We use cow prodders to keep him in line, but if he's not in this cage then he's in the wagon cage, as he's too dangerous to be let out. I'm not sure what your mistress is going to do with him, but you'll keep in mind he was the Butcher of Blaviken." Making reference to the bloody fight that the Witcher had won against a gang of men in the streets of Blaviken. Tobias realised Kias was relieved to be done with the Witcher but also worried we would let him go. "Don't worry well not let him out of his cage, and you can get cleared of this place if that's your worry" Tobias laughed as Kias turned quickly at that statement and hurriedly started packing up his camp.

First, they stopped at the market to check on the other servants. Even though Tobias had wanted to go to Renee he knew that he would have to wait. He gave instructions on closing, and left a message for Renee to join him at the estate and re-joined the wagon. While he had been with his men, Julia had visited her husband's friends ordering more food, clothes and bedding to be delivered to the estate that afternoon. The merchants were curious about this new Julia who was exhibiting more purpose and energy than they had seen since Wilfred had died, but refrained from being nosy. They too had heard the slavers cry, and some had contemplated doing the same thing. This sort of slavery was frowned on in Wolnosci, but they all could see that this had lit a fire in their friend's beloved wife's eyes, and they hoped this would be the beginning of her healing from the loss.

Once they arrived at the estate Jolna and Petra helped take the 5 men to the bathhouse, leaving Tobias and Julia with the Witcher. Julia dismounted and went around to the back of the wagon. Tobias was hot on her heels but as she climbed in the back he waited outside knowing she needed to talk to the Witcher on her own, but he would be there if she needed him. Inside the wagon, Julia sat next to the caged man, his heavy breathing could be heard in the silence. Pulling her knees up under her chin Julia took a moment she felt a strange calm as she looked at the man in the cage. Her memories of him the tall proud Witcher who had sat at their camp filled her mind. He didn't look any older but his body spoke of the abuse he had suffered. After a moment of silence she spoke "I can't begin to understand what pain you have been through to bring you to a situation like this. But I remember a white-haired Witcher who risked his life to save my Father, and my 10yr old memory tells me that you are that same Witcher."

Julia waited, hoping that there would be some sign from the man to acknowledge that he knew she was not a threat. "I hear you" a deep raspy voice whispered into the silence. It was all Julia needed to give her the courage to continue, "I need to know what your injuries are, I don't want to move you until I know that it won't cause you more damage." Again, she waited, this time all she heard was a rumbled "mmmmm". Sitting in the stillness she had a thought of how she could assess his wounds without causing more. Getting up she said "I'll be back soon Geralt. Tobias my Loyal friend will be outside if you need something." Again, she waited not wanting to leave before he acknowledged her. Even raspier as thou it was thick with emotion, he breathed: "thank you."

Leaving the wagon, Julia spoke to Tobias "stay here and listen out for his voice. He's quiet so you will need to actively listen. I am going to go prepare the spring, I think the best way to assess his wounds will be in a weightless environment. I won't be long but if any of the men come back, see if you can work out a way to move Geralt into the healing room." At Tobias's nod, she ran to the dwelling.

As she entered the healing room Julia set about preparing the spring. Many years ago Wilfred had hired a man to help work out a way to empty the stagnant water and replenish it with the fresh waters from the spring. Moving the leavers to set in motion the refreshing of the waters she moved to get the additional minerals to add to the spring to aid in the cleansing of Geralt's wounds. After this she went to her books seeking out the one that her mother had handed her on her death bed. It was a special book describing the elixirs and potions used by Witcher. Quickly looking through the pages she found what she needed the recipes for adding healing. Grabbing the herbs she quickly made the appropriate elixir, as well as a tea to aid in a deep sleep.

A sense of calm and purpose filled Julia as she worked on her preparations, not only for Geralt but for the other men who she knew would also have ailments. As she mixed her herbs she realised this was the premonition that she had had this morning. She felt alive all her senses tingled with life, senses that had become dull and silent over the last 3 years since Wilfred had died. As she kept working the other servants were led into her rooms, along with a cart pulling Geralt and his cage. The 5 men looked clean and now dressed in clothes that would be warm, a better protection than the rags they had been in before.

Julia addressed the men, "I don't know what situation has bought you to a place of being with Kias, but I want to get to know each one of you more in the coming weeks. First, you need to know that here you will be safe. You will be fed, clothed, and given a warm bed to sleep. I am a healer, so in a moment I will be talking with you individually about how you are in your body, and if there is anything that is causing you pain. I will do my best to keep you all healthy. In return, all I expect is that you respect me and my servants, that you are honest with me about your circumstances, and when we work out what you can do best to serve this household, that you will do it to the best of your ability. If you do this, we will work well together."

As much as Julia wanted to go to Geralt, and help him right away she instead saw to each man. She assessed their health, and talked to them about where they were from, and their situation. All but one had indentured themselves to help family financial problems. The last one named Harlan had been kidnapped as he was travelling to Temeria. All agreed to stay and work for Julia. She dressed some wounds and dispensing small herbal supports for malnourishment and stomach ailments. Julia directed Petra to take them to the eating room as Nessie had prepared a small meal to help them gain their appetites back. As they left, she turned to Geralt he seemed to be asleep his eyes shut head bowed.

As she approached, he turned and looked at her, the pained look in his eyes caused Julia's heart to clench, "We are going to lower you into the Spring Geralt, but before that, we need to remove your clothing. Can you tell me how long you have been confined like this?" Tobias and Jolna waited with Julia while Geralt found his words. "I have only crawled for the last 8 months so I don't know if I can walk. I had just fought a particularly strong Bruxa and had taken a healing elixir when Kais came across me. I was not yet strong enough to fight him. They kept me in this cage during the day and in a wagon cage that I could crawl into, but it was only tall enough that I could sleep stretched out." his words were slow, measured, and Julia could tell that even this small amount of conversation was wearing him out.

Inspecting the cage Tobias found the latches and carefully removed the side. Julia trying to see the best way to remove his disheveled and dirty clothes concluded she would need to cut them off him carefully. Kneeling next to him Julia put her hand gently on his arm pulling his attention to her face, "I'm sorry I know this may be painful but just touch my arm if you need a rest or for me to stop." He nodded and closed his eyes a tenseness setting in his face as he prepared himself.

While Julia proceeded to start cutting along the seams of his shirt Tobias and Jolna disassembled the rest of the cage to allow more access to the big man. All that was left was the last piece that seemed to be holding Geralt up. As each layer of clothing was removed more and more Julia could see the scaring and abuse that Geralt had suffered, sometimes Geralt would groan loudly in pain as she had to shift a limb or mumble a curse word but he never once halted the action. It showed Julia that even in this state his will was strong, giving her hope that his spirit was not completely broken.

As the last of the layers of clothing was freed from his body, she looked up at Tobias, tears silently running down her cheeks. This was the first time treating a patient that the extent of abuse caused her grief, pulling herself together she spoke with a soft voice "Right let's get you over to the spring" his eyes opened at her words gazing at her wet cheeks, Julia stood quickly and went to get her pain relievers taking a moment to compose herself, while the two silent men pushed Geralt towards the water's edge. Julia touched Geralt on the shoulder his eyes glassy with pain met hers "I want you to drink some of this it's a pain relief and healing elixir it will help you to move and with the pain." Lifting the cup to Geralt's lips he drank slowly.

The warm water felt good on her tired body, Julia had been running on adrenalin and even now could not relax as they wheeled the cart into the water. As the water began to cover Geralt's body she heard him groan again but this was less of pain and more of relief. Once the buoyancy of the water made it possible Tobias and Jolna lifted Geralt from the cart, and floated him toward Julia. His body was in a crouched position being supported by the two assistances, she started to run her hands lightly over his skin making mental note of the old scars compared with the wounds. His body was malnourished. Julia remembering how Geralt had looked when she had seen him with her father, remembered that he had once been strong and muscular. She hoped with time he would regain those features. The trauma of the last 8 months had caused his skin to sag with loss of weight and his muscles held no strength. There were many wounds that would need cleaning and some burns that had turned into blisters along his torso.

Placing a supporting hand on his lower back she massaged along the spine feeling for any damage. Thankful that it seemed to be just stiff and not out of alignment she moved to his hips. The smallest pressure as she felt around the hips brought on a cry from Geralt, pausing she gently manipulated the joints and muscles assessing each action until she was confident that nothing was broken. Once she was sure the hips were loosened, she pushed the right hip up releasing the thigh and leg to straighten out. Seeing more scars and wounds as she straightened out the other leg Julia felt a sense of great sadness and anger. How could anyone treat someone so badly, even our animals were not treated with such cruelty.

She now had him fully stretched out, bringing a flat board and towel over she placed the towel over his pelvis to give him some privacy and floated the board under him. When she saw it took his weight without sinking, she spoke. "We are going to let you float here for a while Geralt, the water will not grow cold but Jolna will stay just in case you need anything. I'm going to get you something small to eat and then we will move you to a cot here in the room. Your wounds will need dressing, but I will do that once your dry and laying down."

Julia ran her hand over his brow which had lost some of its tension. Without opening his eyes he mumbled a thank you and fell silent. His breathing seemed to even out as she watched the silver medallion, the only thing she had not cut off his body rise and fall with each breath. Almost hypnotic in its action she stared for a moment mesmerized by the medallion. A sound from Jolna made her pulled her eyes away from the sleeping form. Taking a deep breath, she turned and moved out of the Spring. She was caught between wanting to stay by her patient and the need to gather food for herself. He stomach made a grumbling sound making the decision for her as she moved out of the room and away from the sleeping man.

Tobias made note of the hour, it was dark outside, and the house was quiet. During the evening Renee had arrived and seeing the chaos jumped into action. She helped set up the beds for the new servants, helped Nessie in the kitchen and had seen to the clean-up. Tobias was so blessed to have met this beautiful caring woman. Having no memory of his mother he had instead looked for a woman like his mistress, knowing if he found someone with a similar character that he would be blessed, and he had found her. Walking out onto the balcony Tobias watched Renee, her sandy coloured hair blowing about in the evening breeze. He walked up behind her and pulled her into his arms. "Thank you for tonight my love, your willingness to see a need, and jump straight in to help has only accentuated my love for you."

Still looking at the stars but now resting her head on his chest Renee chuckled, "Well if you had walked into a house and seen what I saw you would have done the same. Anyway, poor Nessie was beside herself. Her planned meal had jumped from 7 to 13 people in just minutes of your arrival at home. However, all I did was just take orders. She truly is a master in that kitchen." Turning around in his arms Renee looked up at Tobias. His eyes taking in her soft round face, freckled nose and sea blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle with love. His eyes shifted to her small pink lips and that was his undoing. He bent down and kissed her deeply.

Julia looked down at the sleeping form, she had spent most of the afternoon and evening dressing his wounds, applying salves on the burns, and feeding him. His amber yellow eyes had watched her silently apart from the groans of pain as she had treated him, but Julia had not felt unsafe or in danger as the slaver trader had said. Instead, she felt something different, like a cry from deep inside him that called out to her. Her only hope was that he would learn to trust her enough to talk to her. The sleeping tea she had prepared was working, his face relaxed, his breathing steady. Relaxing into the day bed she had pulled over to be closer to Geralt in case he needed her in the night. Julia fell into an uneasy asleep filled with just one picture in her mind, those piercing amber-yellow eyes.

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[officialthiamlibrary]

Hi guys, welcome to our new weekly segment: Feature Friday. Once a week, we’ll be hyping up one of your favourite authors and recommending five of their fics, some old and some new, so that you can re-read all of your old favourite stories, or maybe even discover a new favourite! If you have someone you’d love to see in this segment, send us an ask here on Tumblr, or message one of our helpful mods on discord. 

Sorry for taking a week off, preparations for the Big Bang obviously took a lot of time and effort, but we’re back into it this week with sunshine personified, @manonisamelon Since early 2018, manonlemelon has written 25 Teen Wolf fics about the many and varied ways Theo and Liam fall in love. She balances funny, fluffy stories with heart-wrenching angst, expertly weaving heartfelt emotion into every word. She’s hands down the best commenter in the fandom, and we’ll fight anyone who says otherwise!

Exhibit(ionism) [ Explicit // 7K // Complete ]

Theo and Liam have a date at the zoo. Shennanigans happens.

This fic is just pure silly fun, with just a dash of smut thrown in. There’s horrified old ladies, adorkabears, and dark nooks aplenty in this fic, and you’ll be shaking your head and grinning from start to finish at Liam’s shenanigans. What cames across most though is how seriously gone on each other these two boys are. A beautiful and hilarious fic!

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Let's Go Crazy [ General // 5K // Complete]

Theo loves figure skating, he has a favorite skater and the olympics are here. It's an emotional time full of joy and stress over the performance. Luckily he has a boyfriend ready to support him.

The author’s love of figure skating definitely comes across in this story. The way she describes every elegant move on the ice will draw you in as you experience the same wonder through Theo’s eyes. The way that Liam supports his partner’s interest is absolutely adorable and is sure to melt more than a few hearts. We strongly recommend this fic if you’re obsessed with figure skating as well, or if you just love pure, sweet, fluffy goodness.

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Be Careful What You Wish For [ Mature // 55K // WIP ]

Back before he was sent to the ground all Theo ever wished for was power, to be an alpha, to have a pack. Now he knows better, knows that power isn’t as easy as it seems. All he wants now is to try and stay alive, try to be good enough to one day be part of the pack and protect the beta with anger issue. During a fight with an alpha gone feral Theo is given power he doesn’t want anymore. Now he has to learn to live with what he had wished for so long ago.

We all wondered what it would be like if Theo has actually taken the power of an alpha in season 5. Now we can finally have the answers, but with the redeemed Theo instead! Take a stroll through this story about coming to terms with the things you want while trying to hold onto your former life and falling in love at the same time. You’ll laugh a little, definitely cry a little, and call Thiam idiots about a million times. 

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Underneath the Mistletoe  [ Teen // 7K // Complete ]

Mason and Corey have enough of seeing their friends hopelessly pine after each other and decide to do something about it. Luckily it’s the holiday season and what better way to get two people to admit their feelings than a mistletoe kiss? Or the fives times Mason and Corey tried to make Theo and Liam kiss under the mistletoe and the one time they succeed.

The greatest thing about this fic is that it’s told from Morey’s point of view! It’s so cool to see such a fresh idea and to have a healthy heap of our favorite canon gays! We love seeing Theo and Liam from an outsider’s perspective, especially those of their closest friends, and ultimately this fic has you feeling like you’re part of the story and in one Morey’s schemes. We love it!

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Kiss The Bartender [ Teen // 3K // Complete ]

Theo has a job as a bartender in a shot bar where some shots are linked to dares. Liam makes him sneak him Corey and Mason in. Dares happens and maybe one could finally lead to Liam and Theo admitting their feelings.

Truth or dare fic? Yes please!! This is so great and just fun because the dates range all over the place and you get a few great chuckles from it. It’s a fantastic way for Liam and Theo to connect and FINALLY get their first kiss. It’s a good time all around and we ship it hard!

[wolint]

FRESH MANNA

WHY!?

Isaiah 45:11

How many times do we ask why in a sentence and a day? Why! Why! why! If we take stock of the number of times we ask why, we will see how much of self is in everything we do.

Do you know how many times we ask God why me, why should I, why this, and Why that? Why, why, why!

Questioning God at every level is an exhibition of our lack of trust in Him. The Lord says in Romans 2:28 that He will work everything out for our good, but do we take Him at His word and trust Him to carry out His plans? No!

We question God’s integrity and faithfulness each time we question His word or what we perceive as His inaction.

Instead of why it should be I trust you, Lord!

If the Lord wants us to know and understand something, He’ll tell us, who says we must have all the answers anyway or that we need to understand everything? We don’t! we certainly don’t need to know all things because we can’t and 1 Corinthians 13:9 says our knowledge is partial and incomplete.

We just need to trust God.

We have a choice to give in to what ails us and give up on God or we lean on His strength to stay strong and trust Him.

It’s just not fair! Life is so unfair! It’s not right!

Why! Why! Why!

Enough with the questions already.

We should not rebelliously question God’s ways, Paul quoted Jeremiah 18:1-6 in Romans 9:20-21 where he emphasised that God has the right to do what he wishes with his creation. As He states in Psalm 75:7, God decides who, what, when and why things happen, the Lord’s standard is different from ours as He does not think or act like us according to Isaiah 55:8-9, so, when we question God, we are effectively saying we doubt Him and do not trust Him to have our best interest at heart.

If we don’t and can’t trust God, whom can we trust?

We must learn to declare Proverbs 3:5-6 amid a storm and say, Lord, I trust you, I will not doubt, fear, or distrust your plans neither will I try to understand everything, I know you have a good plan for me, so I’ll leave things in your capable hands.

I don’t have to know why you do the things you do; I know you are good, and you will work everything out for our good in the land of the living as stated in Psalm 27:9.

I Samuel 2:3 describe God as the one whose knowledge is unsearchable, and through whom all our actions are determined and directed by his counsel. How do we then even begin to question the God whose ways are perfect and blameless according to Palm 18:30?

Yet we blame God for all of society’s failings and our troubles, even the self-inflicted ones and then we question Him on why things are the way they are, why He’s not doing anything to set things right and why we can’t give Him our all because His performance according to our standard is below par.

Reiterating Jeremiah 18:1-6, will the creation say to the creator why?

Let’s ask ourselves why! I bet you can answer.

Why have we turned God’s creation, both man and the world upside down?

Why have we allowed sin to run rampant?

Why have we desecrated God’s altar and word and expect something good?

Why are we calling evil good and good evil?

Why have we forsaken God?

Do we then dare to question God? Why!

PRAYER: Father, help me to trust you to lead me and hold on to your word without needing to understand and know everything in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

Women of light international prayer ministries.