#i cannot tell you how delightful the art is oh my GOD

[ghostalservice]

The shell-creature is at the edge of the river again, big eyes lazy, mouth wide open.

Stede pauses, just under the surface, and watches it.

He only has a few moments, of course: he’ll be missed by his father soon enough. Not missed in the sense of oh I wished you were here; no, more the where were you when you were supposed to be floating at my side like a good son and heir. And if his father gets too impatient, he’ll send out the dolphin guard to find Stede, and he hates the dolphin guard. They seem to take a certain joy in hassling him, nudging him with their noses and getting too close to his tail. They love leading him in through the warren of tunnels into the palace, a maze that only they know well, the ones that weave through the coral and bedrock, and making him squeeze through gaps barely wider than his shoulders, leaving his scales scraped and his fingers bleeding from tugging himself through gaps he can’t quite fit through.

Of course, they justify it by saying if they come in the front, everyone will see Stede being late and it will embarrass his father, and Stede knows that would be worse, but also, he knows there are pathways through the tunnels that are actually wide enough to swim through with dignity. He knows better than to complain, though.

He gives the shell-creature one more suspicious look: it seems to meet his gaze through the wavering light of the ocean surface, giant eyes wide and innocent, but then it turns, huge mouth scooping more bits from the surface, and Stede watches it turn back up the river.

He’s ventured further into the human-dug harbor than he should have—really, the dolphins would probably not dare go this far in, and his father would have to send the eels instead. Stede really doesn’t want to deal with them, either, so he turns around and swims back towards the open ocean.

His father is only slightly perturbed when he swims through the palace gate, looking Stede over with a calculating eye, and Stede sighs a careful breath of relief.

“You were supposed to be here at the tide,” says the king.

“Sorry, Father.”

“I suppose you were out playing with your seaweed again?”

Stede winces. He’s supposed to be working on new kinds of kelp, ones that will be more resistant to the things the humans put into the water. It’s an important job, one that he cared a lot about back before he found the cave of human treasures. But he nods, because he had stopped by the kelp beds this morning and collected some data; he just... hadn’t stayed there.

He’s about to answer when his father waves a dismissive tail at him. “It doesn’t matter. We have more important things to discuss.”

“We do?”

“The treaty with the Lord of Allamby is nearly finalized, and his daughter Mary—”

Stede doesn’t hear the rest, the sounds of rushing waves filling his ears instead, because he’d known, deep down, that this was coming. He’s been of marriageable age for... quite a while now, and he’d known that eventually, this would come. He’d tried not to think about it, but he’d known. And when he’d heard that the Lord of Allamby, ruler of the warmer currents further south, had four unwed daughters—

“What’s she like?” The words slip out from his most secret self, and he can’t stop them, feeling them bubble over his lips and into the water between them. His gaze floats over the room, nearly unseeing, and registers, bizarrely, the court artist, who’s paused his painting to watch the royal drama unfolding.

When Stede looks back at his father, he realizes with a sinking feeling in his fins that he’s just interrupted the king, and that’s why he’s staring at Stede with that thunderous look. But Stede holds firm, for once, doesn’t apologize, and his father sighs, a deep rush of water.

“She’s the heir to Allamby, Stede,” he says. “What else could possibly be important?”

Read more at ao3!

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 8)

Jake Kizska x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult content, language, brief illusions to sex, angst, jealousy, etc.

Only two chapters to go and an epilogue, everyone. I’m so grateful that you have taken this little journey with me. Thank you so much for all your kind words, support, and care. You’re all so wonderful ❤️

“Oh my god, Jake,” your eyes are darting around the room like a mouse with a rabid alley cat slinking, famished and cruel, into its path.

Your unease trumps his delighted gloating instantly, “What do you want me to do, sugar? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

When you steal a glance at the window, longing to climb out and disappear, he hops on the train of your thought process right away, “You want me to duck out?”

You know Jake through and through, and staring into his eyes as your heart drums paranoid vibrations into your rib cage, you’re stunned to watch him offer to give up this chance to square off with whom he has come to see as his most bitter rival. That he would do that for you? That all you would have to do is ask and he would crawl out and wander off into the golden afternoon sunshine like an afterthought…

You really do own his whole heart, you realize at the most inopportune of moments. Your grip on his soul is just as tight as his fingers have always clawed down inside yours…fierce and beautiful in their unrelenting grip.

But haven’t you always known? Hasn’t it always been written across his skin? Etched in his gaze? Sculpted into the bow of his lips when he whispers your name? Evident in his touch?

“No,” you shake your head, willing the mess inside of it to go away, rejecting the thought of him leaving. You want him near, you need him near. To let him go right now, even for a second, seems an agonizing punishment that you cannot bear to suffer. No matter the consequences.

“Stay. But please…” you rush over to him, helping him to his feet while stealing glances at the doorway, “Please just behave and follow my lead, okay? Please?”

”Normally, I like it when you use your manners,” he sighs, smoothing out his clothes, as well as a lock of your hair that has fluttered out of place, “But that’s too many pleases and you look petrified. Why?” His voice is suddenly intense yet careful, as is his grip on your arm, “Does he hurt you?”

They idea is entirely laughable, but there’s no time for that, so you brush him off with a swipe of your hand and a flippant, “Don’t be stupid, Jake.”

Without allowing yourself to think it through, you begin ushering him down the hall towards the front room, but what will you find there? Doom or salvation?

How will these pieces fall together? Something solid and heavy in your heart tells you Jake will do as you have asked and play nice, but another facet buried even deeper inside is rocked with anxiety and screaming that it’s only wishful thinking to believe such a fairytale.

”Hey hon,” jovially rings out as he steps in through the garage, “I saw your car! We’re both home early? Looks like the universe knew how much I missed you!”

Jake turns to catch your eye as you shove him along, but you refuse to meet his gaze. You're unsure of what you’ll find there and this isn’t the time for uncertainties.

Would you find sadness threatening to roll hot tears down his cheeks? Anger threatening to boil over in his fiery chocolate irises? Accusation and resentment for what you’re about to subject him to?

Oh god, you can’t do this! Suddenly, and absurdly, you wish you could fade into the gentle, lush, green paint that you had once rolled upon the hallway walls, paying meticulous attention to detail. Build this home, had been the plan…bury him away under paint and sanded cabinets. Art perched on the walls and throw pillows piled on the bed.

You’d love to disappear and leave them perplexed and confused, wondering what became of you. To vanish into nothing like a dust mote blown away upon the lightest, softest breeze.

You’re a coward.

While your thoughts are busy with that, Jake’s are grappling with each other. Tangled up and struggling. He’d very much like to stomp into the front room and shut this man up. With his booming voice calling out how much he’s missed you like he has some claim over you. Like you’re his. Like he doesn’t understand that you could never really be anyone’s because you’re much too good for this whole goddamn world. That you’re precious, like the rarest of stones and anyone who is lucky enough to hold you in their palm should fall on their knees in thanks.

He sounds so fucking common. Does he think you’re common as well? Jake can’t stomach the thought.

So, yes, he’d like to stroll into the room, casual as you please, and announce that he is taking you away from this ridiculous illusion where you play house and pretend to be satisfied. He longs to tell him how he’s made love to you, how he’s fucked you. How you’ve begged for him and swore no one could ever be him. Jake wants to tell him that the ring he put on your finger has been in his mouth, that he spat it out and you didn’t even care. That you hardly even noticed. Jake would almost kill to watch Mr. Wonderful’s face crumple in defeat and loss…

But he loves you far too much, and to say all those things would hurt you, too.

Scar your heart he will not.

He’s shrugging off his suit blazer when you both appear. It’s a mundane action, one that repeats itself nearly every evening, but you stand still and shellshocked, unable to jolt yourself into some semblance of normalcy until Jake subtly nudges you with a ginger elbow.

“Hi,” you begin, a touch too loudly, “Yeah, you’re early! I actually didn’t end up going to work today. Old friend in town. We went to the movies. And then we came here. He wanted to see the house. I…I told him about it. I was just giving him the tour.”

You sound robotic and ridiculous, but he doesn’t appear to notice. Rather, he looks delighted when his eyes land on Jake and recognition settles in.

”Ah, I know you!” He laughs, marching forward with an outstretched hand. “The almost brother in law. Good to finally meet you.”

His grasp on Jake’s hand is strong and sure as he pumps it up and down. The genuine gladness in his gesture makes you want to tear your own hair out in penance.

Or is it the ‘almost brother in law’ moniker that has made you nauseous?

Yes, that’s what you boiled Jacob down to. You had held nothing back about your relationship with Josh…but Jake? You just couldn’t. To speak of him, to share him that way…it had seemed incomprehensible. And how could you ever put it into words, anyway? How could anyone ever understand what he was to you? What he is to you? No, it had seemed best to keep him locked away, silent and safe in your memories. Tucked away in your heart. The boy in the bubble.

Jake’s face is unreadable as he sizes up this opponent before him. This rival who has just unknowingly stepped into the ring. This blissfully unaware adversary. He is a doe who has wandered idly into the path of a dangerously ravenous mountain lion, and he doesn’t even know it. Ignorance really does seem like bliss in this moment, and you long for it.

“Yes, the almost brother in law,” his tone is slightly clipped, but no one, aside from you - and perhaps his brothers - would ever notice. “That’s me. And you are?”

Here we go. He’s going to love this.

They drop hands and a friendly clap lands on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m Jake, too. What are the odds?”

A sharp, satisfied laugh bursts out of Jake, head tipped back, adam’s apple bobbing gleefully, and you long to tell the smug bastard to just shut the hell up, but it’s over quickly enough.

”Yes,” he sighs, with a shake of his head that ends in his eyes blazing holes into your soul, “What are the odds?”

”’Course this one over here calls me by my middle name, James. Says it fits me. No one else does, though, so choice is yours. Man, it’s so great to finally meet you.” He’s prattling on now, never having met a stranger, “You know we’ve got all your work over there in the case. You’re a hell of a guitar player. I tried to learn in high school, mostly to impress girls…never could get it. Anyway…”

Jake is eyeing him like he doesn’t know what to make of this man standing there, cordial and warm, tossing out compliments and bids for conversation.

His eyes are traveling over this unfamiliar being, now so tangible and real, who has had his hands all over you. Who has had his mouth pressed to your precious body, who has whispered against your skin, who has made love to you in the still of the night, and held you, and rested beside you, breathing in tandem. Who has gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

And you said yes...you said yes.

He wants to hurt him. Both physically and emotionally. He wants to level him. To crush him into nothing. And though this Jake, James, or whatever his name is, isn’t to blame, he wants it all the same. He wishes he could lure him into his palm like a revolting insect and squeeze until he was no more than something vile to be wiped away with a Kleenex.

Instead, he tilts his head in the direction of the vinyls and shrugs off the accolades, “Fuckin’ Zeppelin cover band.”

James laughs uproariously and gestures into the room welcomingly, “Why are we all standing around like this? Have a seat…please. Make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink? Water? A beer? Whiskey? I know it’s early, but special occasions call for special circumstances, I always say.”

Eyes on you, he shrugs out a response that would be lost on anybody but you, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Once you’re alone for a moment, he shakes his head with a gorgeous, if not self-satisfied, smirk sparking to life upon his face. “His name is Jake? Oh, sugar…” he’s laughing softly now, and sinking down into the cushions of the couch, “creature of habit, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

”Shut up!” You hiss, eyes flickering towards the kitchen doorway, “Coincidence. That’s all. Don’t be so fucking full of yourself. Now, please just be nice.”

He quiets down, drawing the back of his forefinger beneath his eye dramatically as if he has laughed himself to tears, “I’m being very nice and you know it. Don’t push it.”

You sit, as far away from him as the couch will allow, but instantly he’s leaned in close. “What do you think he would do if I got down on my knees right here and buried my face in that gorgeous little cunt of yours? Showed him how it’s really done.”

”Jacob!” You barely make a sound as you admonish him with a clipped shove to settle him.

He slinks back into his seat with another laughing shake of his head, “This is perfect.”

”I hate you.” You lie.

”Sure you do, sugar,” he winks, crossing his legs to get comfy, “Sure you do. Almost brother in law, huh? Is that what I’ve been reduced to?”

He’s still chuckling quietly to himself while a strange mix of panic and tears begins to churn around inside of you like a slow moving summer storm. He’s gearing up, you can feel it, and the thought of it all is too much, your metaphorical knees are beginning to shake. This could end so, so badly.

“Later, Jake…” you’re beseeching without shame, pleading with your watery gaze. “We’ll talk about it later. Please just stop.”

His palm cradles your cheek so softly you wonder if anyone has ever touched someone as gently as he touches you, “Settle down, baby. I won’t make trouble for you.”

How laughable that he can’t seem to recognize that you’ve brought this trouble on all by yourself. No help needed.

He has moved to create a respectable distance between the two of you by the time James is sweeping back into the room bearing a tray flush with drinks and snacks.

”Here, sweetie,” he drops a kiss upon the top of your head, presenting a glass. “Made you a mimosa…I know you like to keep it light through the week.”

You somehow manage a thank you and sip at the sweet, bubbly mix, praying it calms your frayed nerves.

”For us,” he extends the tray and you watch as Jake plucks a low ball glass from it, “bourbon. Unless you’d rather browse the bar. Plenty to choose from.”

”Bourbon is fantastic,” Jake nips at his glass. “Thank you.”

There is a palpable disdain hovering around Jake like a murky aura, but there is heartbreak there too. Aching and black. Heavy and weighing down the light that normally follows him around like a strange shadow…and you’d give anything to take it away.

For just a breath, you intend to do just that. To rise to your feet and stomp all over James’ open, trusting heart. To tell him the truth. To tell him you’re leaving. You nearly take Jake by the hand and drag him towards the door and leave everything else behind without explanation…simply to end his suffering.

Your lips nearly part to say the words when you’re cut off.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” James leans forward in his chair and grabs for your hand, absently running his thumb against your own, “Erin called. She said you guys had a great time the other day, said you’d planned something for this weekend? Wedding planning?”

Erin. His sister. You’ve grown close but it wouldn’t hurt to leave her behind. It wouldn’t even sting…not for Jake.

You squeeze his hand with a tiny smile and fight rolling nausea at the mere mention of the wedding in Jake’s presence. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tense, but he recovers quickly and drains his glass to the dredges in one pull.

”Well,” suddenly, he’s on his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time today. It was good to see you.” His eyes are unreadable and shift quickly away from your own. “James, good to meet you and thank you for the hospitality.”

”Don’t run off on my account,” James is on his feet now as well, “We’d love to have you stay for dinner. I make a mean chicken Kiev, and…”

”No,” Jake interrupts, gaze jumping towards the door as if he can’t get away fast enough. “I’ve got a flight to catch in just a few hours, need to head back…you know how it goes.”

He sounds ineloquent and so unlike himself… and you can feel it - his heartbreak - in your bones as though you’ve crawled inside his body and curled up beside it like a clinging lover.

“Jake,” you can’t seem to move from your seat, your body uncooperative and rebellious, “Your car is still at the theater, let me drive you…”

”Drive me?” He is staring at you, white hot and desperate…the mask is finally slipping. He has played pretend all he can for the day. “And then what?”

”And then…” again, you are a coward. A fucking coward. “I don’t know. What do you mean, and then?”

The room is silent for a beat - with words unspoken crashing into the space between yourself and Jake, and James struggling to understand this strange exchange.

With the slightest nod of his head, Jacob silently encourages you. Urges you. Come with me, sugar…it seems to say, come home.

But still you sit, frozen and paralyzed. A horrified doe staring down the hunter’s muzzle.

Another nod, clipped and more obvious this time, responds to your inaction. “I’ll walk. Again, thank you for having me.”

The door closes behind him in a blink, and he is gone. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined him completely…

Looking down at your shaking hands in your lap, you realize you never even made it to your feet. You sat, unmoving, and watched him go.

~

Hours later, you’re standing outside an unfamiliar door, anxiously clutching at the straps of the bag tossed over your shoulder.

And when that unfamiliar door swings open, your heart unclenches, for there he stands. Showered, smelling of soap and warmth, hair curled into dampened, loose ringlets, beat to hell jeans riding low on his hips.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t Mrs. Wonderful…”

“Hi,” it comes out meek and small, but flush full of the comfort that is being near him.

”How’d you find me?” His arms cross loosely, with a faded smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

”Were you hiding?” Why hasn’t he turned to lead you in?

”From you, pretty girl?” He scoffs as if the very idea is preposterous. “Never.”

Yet, on he stands as though barring your entrance…as though he intends to send you on your way any moment.

”I called Josh,” you offer, wringing at your bag’s handles idly, simply for something to do with your hands. “He told me where you were staying.” Your gaze skitters over the house. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

He nods, “Airbnb. You mentioned something about us always being in hotels, before. I thought, if there was a chance I’d be hosting you, you might like something a little more…domestic. Though, I see now that you have plenty of that going for you already, right? Domesticity?”

“Do I deserve that?”

His shoulders hunch inwardly slightly, he knows you’re right, and he knows he’s being a bit of an asshole as well. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

”Are you going to invite me in? I feel a little stupid standing out here.” Vulnerability seems of such insignificance when it is Jacob in question. He knows your bare soul so well anyway.

Still, he allows you to dangle on his string, twisting languidly in the soft, evening breeze. “Why’d you call Josh to find me? Why not just call me? Missing my better half now that you’ve had a bit of fun with me?”

Now there’s a slight irritation traipsing along your nerves, and damned if you’re going to mask it. “Alright, either let me in or tell me to go to hell. I’m not going to beg for your good graces.”

”Are you coming in to stay? Or are you here to say goodbye? Because my heart has had enough for one day.”

”Oh, fuck off, Jacob.” You huff, pushing past him into the house. You slump your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor and then turn on him. “Sorry to have interrupted your pity party, but what did you think was going to happen today? Did you think it was going to be spectacular and wonderful to walk around in the life that I live with someone else? You practically fucked me in the bedroom I share with him. You lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when you realized he was home. You wanted this, and you know what I think your problem is? I think you liked him.”

”Fuck you!” He slams the door closed and looks you over like you’ve lost your mind entirely. “You think I liked him? I couldn’t give a fuck less about him. He made my skin crawl. Do you know what it was like for me to watch him touch you? The way he looked at you…”

He falls silent and suddenly refuses to meet your eyes, and your heart breaks right alongside his.

Tentatively, you reach out and rest your palm against his cheek, “The way he looked at me doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It never really has.”

His hand floats up to meet yours, “He looked at you with so much love. Like he would give you the entire world. It made me feel not good enough. It made me feel like I should leave and let it be. Like I was wrong for showing up and rattling your whole life around.”

You’re backing him up against the door now, his gorgeous, stricken face held fast in your sure and gentle hands. “Not good enough? You? Oh, Jakey…” you pet at his face worshipfully, “We have a garden, remember? And you help me harvest, and I know you feed me those tiny tomatoes I like. You know? The little yellow ones? And they’re all gone before we even get inside.”

He’s nodding along as you pepper kisses upon his cheeks and forehead.

“And we have a porch swing, and a piano, and beautiful babies, and a cat…and you sing to us, and love us hard every single minute of every single day. And you make us so, so happy. And I wake up every morning with a smile on my face because I packed this stupid bag,” your foot darts out and kicks it, “and shoved my way inside when you refused to invite me in.”

”Don't say things you don’t mean, sugar…” his hands are in your hair now, guiding your mouth to his own so that he can lick inside it. He needs to taste you - needs to feel the silken velvet of your tongue, “I can’t take it, baby.”

You’re breathing each other's breath, lips like feathers dancing together soft and sweet, holding on to one another as if you might both just vanish into nothing in an instant, “I mean it, Jake…” you promise, “I mean it. You are everything,”

You can almost hear the pounding of his heart as the heat of his need begins to radiate and warm you, “Because I can’t stand the thought of leaving, of thinking you’ll follow, only for you to change your mind. It would kill me, sugar. So, please don’t say these things to me if you—“

You silence him with a deep, feverish kiss and then break away, forehead to forehead, “I’m not following later. I’m coming with you. This is where I am now…with you.”

Tears well in his eyes and spill over, hot and saline, as you lick and kiss them away. “I love you, pretty girl…” it chokes out of him, rasping as he swallows thickly, “I love you so fucking much. I’ve imagined this moment in so many different ways, but it was never as perfect as this. Tell me you know how much I love you.”

”I know, and I—“ it is he who interrupts with a desperate kiss this time.

And you know that later he will ask, and when he asks you will tell him what was said back at that house that broke his heart in two - how you ended things with the one who really never mattered at all…

…but for now all that matters is the taste of him on your lips. His air-drying hair looped through your searching fingers. Your hearts and lungs syncing, with his tears like brackish diamonds in your stomach because you have finally swallowed his sorrow and unburdened him from it.

He seems lighter in your arms already…closer now to the sun than he had ever been to the moon before.

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[hannahssimblr]

In the hallway after school on Tuesday, as I head to my locker to retrieve my gear bag, I spot Miss O’Reilly. She is locking up the art room, and gives me a big smile as I approach her. She’s always doing that, smiling at me, I mean, and it throws me off. It's usually not the expression teachers have when they see me coming.

I smile awkwardly in return and she turns her body towards me, takes a step, prompting me to halt beside her instead of barrelling past her like I would have, not enthused about facing the wrath of Doherty if I hit the rugby pitch even one minute late. 

“Jude! I've been meaning to congratulate you.”

“Um, for what?”

She laughs as though I’m being dense deliberately, “I spoke to Eileen, the guidance counsellor last Friday and she told me about your offers.”

“Oh, for college.”

“Yes! How wonderful. I’m just so pleased for you that everything worked out the way that you hoped it would, after all of the hard work you put in this last year it’s just fantastic to hear it. And tell me, did you get accepted to every college you applied for?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” she takes a big pause, taking it in, “wow. You must be delighted. How does it feel?”

“I dunno, miss.”

“Hard to get your head around, I’m sure. Your parents must be proud too.”

“Mm.”

She’s determined to ignore our mismatched attitudes towards this news, taking a big, jubilant breath before launching into more affirmations, “well, what a confirmation of your talent and skill. I had a really good feeling about your work when you came to my class last year, and I’m just so pleased that you got the results you wanted. Have you decided which college to choose yet?”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, “yeah I’m choosing NCAD.”

“Oh!” I can tell she’s trying to maintain her upbeat attitude, but eyebrows slowly draw together in confusion, “I hadn’t realised you changed your plan. When we last spoke about it in March you told me you were looking forward to attending universities abroad.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I, um, I changed my mind in the end. I’m going to stay in Dublin.”

“Hm, okay, I just… Jude, do you mind if I ask you why?”

“Yeah, you can ask,” I say, and am instantly horrified by the tremor in my voice. I fight it back with a hard swallow, “It’s just, like… um,” Oh God. What is happening to me? I’m conscious of the crowds of students milling through the hallway right behind me, and of the fact that I categorically cannot do this here. “Sorry…”

“Oh, come in,” she says in a low voice, jangling the keys in the art room door with an urgency that feels entirely necessary, and when she lets me into the room ahead of her I stand dumbly in the middle of it as she fumbles with the blind over the glass doors, tingling jolts of anxiety running down my arms and through the tips of my fingers. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” She says, and simply that, the word she uses and the way she uses it makes me want to crumple onto the linoleum floor in front of her. 

“You’re alright, you’re just…” she purses her lips, searching for the word, “overwhelmed, I’d say. College and all of that kind of thing, it can get on top of you at this time of year. I know it’s a lot to think about.”

I manage a grunt of vague agreement. 

Miss O’Reilly drags a folding chair from the side of the room, “C’mere, sit down there and we’ll have a quick chat about it.”

“Um, Mr. Doherty…” I say, and she understands, “Don’t mind him. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She settles into a seat across from me, and gives me an encouraging smile. As I search for the words I want to say I’m cognizant of how comforting this woman is, how unfazed she is by me and whatever it is that is happening to me in this room. She has a daughter, I know that, a daughter who goes to our school and for a moment I’m jealous of her, that fourteen year old girl who gets to have a mother like this one, that is soft and comforting in all the places where mine is sharp and disinterested in me and every feeling I have ever experienced. 

I’m not convinced that I even know how to talk about things like this, afraid that I will try to and come across like the weirdest, most unhinged person on the planet. My thoughts and feelings will be so nonsensical that they will make everyone around me cringe with discomfort. “I’m trying to do the right things,” I attempt, “but somehow the right things feel very wrong to me.”

“When you say ‘the right things’, Jude, do you mean you want to choose the right college?”

I nod. 

“And why does NCAD seem like the right choice?”

“Because of my girlfriend.”

“Michelle?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that to be honest.” I never thought that teachers noticed or cared about things that weren’t arbitrary uniform rules and homework assignments, but evidently I was wrong.

She smiles kindly, “So Michelle is going to NCAD?”

“Yeah if she gets the points in her leaving. She applied for all the same colleges as me but got none and now I feel sort of... like I have to stay for her.”

“Is that the right decision for you?”

“I dunno, miss.”

She hums contemplatively, “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this kind of thing, but it’s not always the best choice to base big life choices on your girlfriend when you’re only eighteen years old. Especially one as important as your university.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s never an easy choice to make. I really empathise with you here, because when you’re in love with a person, you-”

“I don’t even know if I love her.”

There’s a pause, she looks surprised, and so am I. I'm stunned that I told her that, this thought that I've never dared to utter before.

And then everything comes spilling out of me. “Look, it’s just that I feel very trapped,” I say, “Sometimes I think there’s something abnormal about my brain, because I make decisions that even I don’t understand, like with Michelle... when I think about us being together and our relationship I can hardly remember anything good that’s happened between us for a long time, the last fun thing we did or the last time I felt happy. I can’t even remember what I was thinking when we got together. I feel like I’m on autopilot, or like things are just happening to me without me having a hand in it.

“Somehow I’ve just, like, ended up here and I’m making plans with her and promising her things that I haven’t even decided if I want yet. I thought that I wanted to move away, but maybe I don’t anymore. Maybe it’s wrong of me to do that, because what if I go away and then I realise that what I actually wanted was to be with Michelle?” 

I breathe in, knowing that I have probably been talking too much, but now I am unwilling to stop, “My parents, they’re fighting a lot at home. Something happened a few months ago and it's just been a battlefield ever since. I know that if I go away I’ll leave my sister alone to deal with all of it. She’s only nine, and the constant tension upsets her so much, she goes into a spin about it and starts fantasising about all of these awful scenarios, and see, my parents don’t know how to deal with her, they don’t really like it when kids act like kids. Or at least they’re not that interested in them– in her. I keep imagining this future where I’m gone, I’ve left home and I’m hundreds of miles away and she’s all on her own with them, and there’s nobody to really look after her because I can’t get home so easily, and when I think like that, even the thought of going away, even wanting it a little bit makes me feel like the most selfish boy on earth…”

Miss O’Reilly produces a tissue and holds it out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I realise she is offering it because I have started to cry. My face is somehow wet with tears. “Oh,” I say, hoarsely and take it. 

“Jude, you’re still a teenager.” She says gently, “You can’t possibly be responsible for the emotions of every other person around you. It’s too much.”

“Yeah.”

“When you’re young you have to make selfish decisions, ones meant for yourself and yourself only. Nobody else is going to make them for you. You have to really ask yourself what the right choice is for you, whether you’ll be able to be truly happy in your current circumstance where nothing may change or will you be better off on your own, doing something you love and experiencing real freedom in spite of how others may feel about it.” 

I wipe my eyes and nod, staring down at my lap, still in a state of shame and disbelief that I have allowed myself to sob like this in front of my teacher, though if she is bothered she doesn’t show it. 

“When you imagine your ideal life,” she urges, “where none of these things are a factor, not the things you promised to Michelle, not what's going on at home, what does it look like?”

“God,” I breathe, almost chuckling because the answer is so easy, “I’m gone. I’m not here. I’m just miles away and I’m making art and hanging out and doing what I like.” It sounds so simple when I say it out loud, yet for the longest time now I’ve felt like a criminal for wanting these things. 

“And where do you see yourself?”

“Berlin,” I say, surprising myself. It’s not like I’ve put real time into thinking about this, visualised myself walking those streets, in fact I don’t even know what Berlin looks like, but it feels right to say it, as though there is some cosmic reason for me to go there. Perhaps only because it’s the furthest from home. 

Miss O’Reilly nods, “NCAD is a fine college, Jude, but your talent is wasted in a place where you don’t want to be. You could do anything you want. You have incredible potential and I’d be very sad to see it wasted. Life passes you by very quickly, you know, and these kinds of opportunities don’t present themselves as often as you think. It may seem obvious, but you only have one life to live.”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t make a decision for you, but all I want you to do is really think about this. Put a good amount of thought into what you really want when you remove everyone else from the equation, then, once you know, you can decide what's worth sacrificing. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Good, then that's your homework,” She smiles and reaches to squeeze my hand, which I am embarrassed about because my skin is clammy, but just like everything else about this moment that is humiliating to me, it doesn't appear to faze her.

“Thank you,” I say, and she nods. “I hope you’re not in a hurry to get to your rugby practice.”

“No,” I sniff, and let out a thick laugh, “No miss, I think I’ll skip it today.”

“Good,” she says, “That’s a good start, see? Here you are, doing exactly as you wish.”

She smiles at me, once again, that bright, warm smile, and I give her one in return because maybe it's just me, my weird brain and the things it invents, but the feeling of hope that rises in me in that moment feels very real.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

True Vine

by Andrew Murray

"I Am the True Vine." – John 15:1

All earthly things are the shadows of heavenly realities—the expression, in created, visible forms, of the invisible glory of God. The Life and the Truth are in Heaven; on earth we have figures and shadows of the heavenly truths. When Jesus says: “I am the true Vine,” He tells us that all the vines of earth are pictures and emblems of Himself. He is the divine reality, of which they are the created expression. They all point to Him, and preach Him, and reveal Him. If you would know Jesus, study the vine.

How many eyes have gazed on and admired a great vine with its beautiful fruit. Come and gaze on the heavenly Vine till your eye turns from all else to admire Him. How many, in a sunny clime, sit and rest under the shadow of a vine. Come and be still under the shadow of the true Vine, and rest under it from the heat of the day. What countless numbers rejoice in the fruit of the vine! Come, and take, and eat of the heavenly fruit of the true Vine, and let your soul say: “I sat under His shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste.”

I am the true Vine.—This is a heavenly mystery. The earthly vine can teach you much about this Vine of Heaven. Many interesting and beautiful points of comparison suggest themselves, and help us to get conceptions of what Christ meant. But such thoughts do not teach us to know what the heavenly Vine really is, in its cooling shade, and its life-giving fruit. The experience of this is part of the hidden mystery, which none but Jesus Himself, by His Holy Spirit, can unfold and impart.

I am the true Vine.—The vine is the living Lord, who Himself speaks, and gives, and works all that He has for us. If you would know the meaning and power of that word, do not think to find it by thought or study; these may help to show you what you must get from Him to awaken desire and hope and prayer, but they cannot show you the Vine. Jesus alone can reveal Himself. He gives His Holy Spirit to open the eyes to gaze upon Himself, to open the heart to receive Himself. He must Himself speak the word to you and me.

I am the true Vine.—And what am I to do, if I want the mystery, in all its heavenly beauty and blessing, opened up to me? With what you already know of the parable, bow down and be still, worship and wait, until the divine Word enters your heart, and you feel His holy presence with you, and in you. The overshadowing of His holy love will give you the perfect calm and rest of knowing that the Vine will do all.

I am the true Vine.—He who speaks is God, in His infinite power able to enter into us. He is man, one with us. He is the crucified One, who won a perfect righteousness and a divine life for us through His death. He is the glorified One, who from the throne gives His Spirit to make His presence real and true. He speaks—oh, listen, not to His words only, but to Himself, as He whispers secretly day by day: “I am the true Vine! All that the Vine can ever be to its branch, “I will be to you.”

Holy Lord Jesus, the heavenly Vine of God’s own planting, I beseech Thee, reveal Thyself to my soul. Let the Holy Spirit, not only in thought, but in experience, give me to know all that Thou, the Son of God, art to me as the true Vine.

[twilightmalachite]

Machina - Prologue

Author: Kino Seitaro (with Akira)

Characters: Mika, Shu, Ritsu

Translator: Mika Enstars

"My winter break’s already in tatters from the combo technique of the kotatsu and mandarin oranges…"

Season: Winter

Location: Sky Garden

Shu: Why did you make such a thing, Kagehira? Is our current state of affairs that unsatisfying?

Mika: No, that’s not it, Oshi-san…

I was just makin’ my own art. ‘M not tryna deny your art, Oshi-san.

Didn’tcha say you were lookin’ forward to my work…?

But the moment ya saw my work, you got angry. What’s wrong with what I did? I don’t understand, could ya tell me where I went wrong with my work…?

Shu: ……

Don’t disappoint me any further.

Mika: Huh…?

Shu: Kagehira. Even if I cannot convince you…

It must be destroyed. And everything else in this world.

No matter how absurd this end by Dues Ex Machina[1] may be…

I don’t want you to choose the wrong path, okay, Kagehira?

Location: Starmony Dorms Room (Ritsu, Mika's Room)

Going back one week ago. In early January—

Starmony Dorms, in Mika and Ritsu’s dorm room…

Ritsu: … *chew chew*

Ah, mandarin oranges are so delicious. ♪ How are mandarin oranges eaten on a kotatsu in winter just so delicious…?

Do you want some, Mikarin? They’re sweet and delicious~! ♪

Mika: …Hey, Ritsu-kun, about that…

Hm, huh? My smartphone’s goin’ off, its from Oshi-san.

Mika: Hello, Oshi-san?

Yes, I’m doin’ good. After SS I took a break, an’ now I’m devotin’ myself to my next work.

Like ya said Oshi-san, you won’t have t’worry about me gettin’ caught up in the New Years!

So, I’ll be seein’ you next week then. I’m lookin forward t’finishin by the time yer back, Oshi-san! Alright, seeya~♪

……

Nn~ …… Nnnnnn~……!

Nnaah, ‘s no good! I can’t even think of any ideas!

What do I do, Ritsu-kun? Oshi-san will be back from Paris soon, but I haven’t been able to make a thing!

Uu, I lied ‘cuz I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me. Otherwise, he’d be angry at this all…!

Ritsu-kun, won’t ya help me come up with an idea for my work?!

Ritsu: Don’t rush, don’t rush. The entire world is on break for the holiday, so why don’tcha take a break too, Mikarin?

Don’t they say rushing is a waste of time? If you can’t come up with ideas, why work on nothing?

C’mere, warm up at the kotatsu~! ♪ If you join me in enjoying these seasonal delights I brought, you’ll stop caring about being productive… ♪

Mika: Th-There’s no way I could join ya in the kotatsu today! Ever since ya brought it into the room, my time to focus on my art has dropped like a rock…!

My winter break’s already in tatters from the combo technique of the kotatsu and mandarin oranges…

I gotta hold out until the end of break at this point…

Ritsu: Eh~, how gloomy…

Ah well, if I get in the way too much, then you’ll end up getting a new room. I understand Mikarin’s having a tough time, so good luck~.

Mika: R-Right! I’mma do my best and not give into temptation…!

Watch me, Oshi-san! Startin’ now, I’m a recoverin’ artist!

Ritsu: …He headed out in high spirits.

It’s cold out, wouldn’t it be best to think of ideas somewhere warm at least… In terms of art, doesn’t “nothing beats speed” not usually apply?

Though, hopefully experiencing things outside will help Mikarin’s desire to create…

Ah, my water’s boiling.

What poor timing. I wish Mikarin could’ve at least been able to make me a cup of tea before he left.

What’s done is done… It’s a pain, but guess I’ll fetch the electric kettle myself… Oh.

……

I can’t get out of the kotatsu…!

Oh no. I underestimated the magical power of the kotatsu! Mikarin~, come back and take care of me~! At least for the rest of winter break…!

story directory | next →

Dues ex machina, lit. god from the machine; a plot device where a seemingly unsolvable point of conflict is suddenly resolved by an unexpected and often contrived occurrence.

[bandtrees]

for the warriors ask game :D

🗺 : first map you ever watched?

🖼 : first amv/pmv you ever watched?

(I used to watch MAPs religiously those are my jam)

yay thank you! warriors ask game except the questions are all weird and niche as hell!

know: my memory is bad. i've been into wc for... well over a decade now, so these are probably not accurate xP my first warriors video was i believe a spoof video about ashfur and squirrelflight, but my first map and amv? uhhh unsure!

🗺 : first map you ever watched? - i didn't actively watch maps as a small kid, or at least i don't think i did? the first map that i entirely remember watching was during my second major warriors phase by the time i was closer to... 15 maybe?? as opposed to my earliest memories of wc which are from when i was 10 or younger lol. little fang, which is making me genuinely super misty eyed to rewatch, it's just so so good, from the style to the designs to how well it gets into jayfeather and his family with only animation and music, the composition of every part is so good, the designs, all of it. the sole reason little fang is one of my favorite songs to this day it might, miiight, have also been evelyn evelyn? that one was certainly one of the first maps i ever watched that stuck with me. the dovewing kinnie has entered chat

🖼 : first amv/pmv you ever watched? - i cannot remember. i watched sooo many amvs as a kid. not my FIRST amv, probably, but one of the earliest i recall is ashfur's revenge, which is delighting me so much to rewatch. this one was formative for me, i miss the style of flash-animated warriors amvs that (obviously:() aren't around anymore. i also have such a soft spot for tigerclaw is not one of thunderclan, one i was thinking about the Entire Time i was writing the exile scene in spottedfur's pride lol. i still love it so much, this is my first time rewatching it in like... a decade, im sure. its so good. im kind of blown away as i rewatch these that they ARE as good as they are, cuz i feel like it's common in the warriors fandom to treat old amvs as some cringeworthy lost art (in general i have strong opinions on how (unintentionally)cruel the internet starts being to things as soon as they enter "nostalgia" territory) - but there's still, like, genuine talent in these. there's a reason these amvs were as popular as they were, and not because we were all cringe 10 year olds who didn't know better, lol. also reminds me of tigerstar and the dog pack(be prepared) - which is one i have the most vivid memory of watching on my family computer, hehe. in general i love corvus katana's stuff, past and current oh my god i will never get this ask posted because i keep remembering ones that helped, like, form a lobe of my brain growing up. HOW TO SAVE BLUESTAR'S LIFE YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!! I AM TOTALLY NOT CRYING REWATCHING IT. YOU ARE. YOU ARE. cant believe i had a phase where i hated bluestar - i think everyone did because they spontaneously realized she was imperfect, immoral even at times, and made mistakes but hadn't developed the media comprehension to realize she was... actually meant to be complex and troubled and not just a perfect leader. god. bluestar. god. god. g (im also gonna use this question as a chance to gush about old amvs that i remember that are unfortunately lost to time: a hollyleaf one to hurricane by thirty seconds to mars (!!!! THIS ONE WAS SO FORMATIVE BUT IM LIKE 80% SURE ITS LOST MEDIA), bluestar heart heart head (PLEASE tell me im not the only one who remembers this one!!! i was devastated to learn it wasn't iconic or reuploaded anywhere (as much as i also think, again, in the nostalgia-sense, people act entitled to things like old amvs or people's art or whatever else)), NIGHTCLOUD GIRL WITH ONE EYE CHANGED MY LIFE?and... probably more of course that aren't coming to me now xP

i. didnt expect to ramble as much as i did with this? i just can't put into enough words how formative warriors amvs and the like were for me growing up :'DD they were my major start for digital art and animation (something i did a lot when i was younger but fell out of over time, but god i'd love to animate again, maybe do a classic wc amv to spottedfur's pride or something lol)

thank you for the question! I am so incredibly normal about warrior cats.

[lungfishpoem]

Okay absolutely nonsense oc bullshit go

Tw: brother abuse, uh trauma I guess. Also a bit of body horror ish gore ish on the last bits of the text

We have technically two stages of post-Evan Pierre. One is a with-clock and the other one is without-clock. Why? Because uh he completely lost notion of time and listen it's a bunch of nonsense pretty much but he cannot do shit without staring at a clock for hours because he has no notion of time or memory without one. Without-clock Pierre is a void of a person. He doesn’t remember Evan to the point where he accidentally calls him "my sister" (no, nothing transgender here it's just his memory being fucked. Ps you dont want Evan as a transgender icon). The only things he knows in this state is whoever is his doctor (he counts time with doctor visits), flowers he had in his garden, his mother (who he writes letters to) and an angel he believes to be his only friend (any coincidences with irl me are on purpose and SHUT UP!!!) . He is stuck in an almost motionless state, reactionless and overall blank state of emotions n shit like he is just like this all the time 😐. Then his doctors decided to give him a clock (!!!) and ever since then he slowly starts regaining sense of time and starts to try and do things with a strict routine which helps him recover slowly. Then he starts remembering shit (according to him his angel tells him about it all). And oh boy doesn't he HATE Evan. He however is constantly in the AGONY of seeing himself being similar to his brother. The way he smiles, the way he talks and tries to coerce people into doing what he wants. Every time he realizes that he wants to kill himself essentially. He smiles more, though not completely genuine. He is a bit more obvious with his clock and angel obsessions too. Staring at the floor becomes staring at the time and counting seconds until the time hits a chore time (like eating food time). Anyways I'm bad at explaining stuff I'm better at writing the fuckers. But I won't write so soon so whatever. Oh isn't Pierre DELIGHTED to meet Ian when he discovers that Ian dated Evan. Like oohh is it my brothers fault youre here too? :) :) isnt that funnney :) :) anyways want to date ME I pinky promise to be awesome differently from my horrid brother (he isnt awesome he is also a horrible bf but dont tell him that otherwise he'll go mad because he was once again haunted by how similar he is to Evan)

If you want to know WHY he hates Evan so much it's essentially because Evan hurt him in MANY ways and managed to always SOMEHOW put the blame on Pierre himself. Also Pierre because of this constant abuse got so traumatized that he developed whatever is wrong with him and then Evan proceeded to prohibit Pierre to visit their mother (who he loved very much) because "it would be bad for her health to see you in this state". So Pierre can only talk to her via letters in which he pretends to be OK. I'm still deciding if Evan ever tried one of his little Playing God art experiments on Pierre but chances are that yes. But since Pierre is alive it means he managed to escape or make Evan stop whatever he was doing. (Context: Evan likes stealing bodies to sew and mold them into more beautiful creatures in his taste. Trying to see if he can invent something completely new and consider himself better than God Itself. Something super corny like that).

(These ocs are overall speaking very corny over the top bullshit. Dont get me started on Ian.)

[technicalknockout]

What were some of your favourite pages in the book?

god thats a hard one jsnfjksdk the entire book is so good but i do have my favorites. heres an entire list

silly straws page - i read in 'dipper and mabel's guide to mystery and nonstop fun' that bill likes silly straws and thought it was a silly random tidbit, imagine how surprised i was when i realized there was LORE behind it.. im still figuring out some codes bc i dont wanna look them up and im having so much fun !!

stanford trying to keep me from reading the book page - "you cant hear the disappointed sigh im making rn, but i assure you it's devastating" i mean he failed to stop me from reading the entire thing in one sitting but i was just very happy to see ford's cursive again. It was really funny seeing him trying to guess what the reader would be convinced by (i saw the moth picture and thought 'whats that called, a goth moth?' I laughed out loud when it turned out that was actually its name)

urban legends page - as a long time fan of creepypasta the references in this page absolutely delighted me. Also the art is so realistically horrifying, whoever drew these i love you

the one true intelligence test - idk this page just made me laugh a lot

Entire anti-cipher society part - i love how instead of telling the story in just plain text, they made us follow the story with newspapers and journal pages. What was that called. I swear there was a name for that kind of storytelling if anyone knows pls pls tell me

every page with ford and fiddleford - BEAUTIFUL. SUBLIME. BEST THING TO EVER EXIST IN THE WORLD. I HECKING LOVE FRIENDS BEING WHOLESOME TOGETHER AND I LOVE IT MORE WHEN THEYRE MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS FROM MY FAVORITE SHOW. THEY MAD SNOWMEN OF EACH OTHER THATS SO CUTE

"but my aim is getting better" - do i need to explain this one

whatever this page is called;

I hated reading this (i loved reading this). i kinda got spoiled before i bought the book with an analysis post, had to literally put my phone down and think about what id just read. i think this page really puts bill and ford's relationship into perspective. ford's a person and bill's a multidimensional semi-god creature, bill will do and say anything in his power to get ford to do what he wants. this relationship cannot even begin to resemble normal. and also the forgetting your own name part horrified me, thats some good horror right there.. love it when books make me have a visceral reaction to tiny words on paper

call transcript from the police - OH the LORE and CHARACTER ANALYSIS FOOD RIGHT HERE. i could talk for hours about how bill straight up sucks at relationships and he's SO unwilling to admit he was upset about falling out with ford that he's lying to himself MULTIPLE TIMES OVER AND OVER and how a lack of genuine connection with people is eating him up - but if i talked about all that this post would spiral into insanity real quick. Also drunk bill talking into the phone was very very sad and very very on character and i could hear hirsch's bill voice inside my head it was really good aghjgnkhhh

stan's page - I ALMOST CRIED AND I KNOW THATS KIND OF A WEIRD REACTION BUT I SAW THE STAN PAGE IN THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM OKAY AND IT WAS MAKING ME VERY UNWELL I WAS EXTREMELY RELIEVED TO JUST HEAR THIS MAN SO HAPPY AGAIN STANLEY PINES I LOVE YOU YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING

yee that turned out longer than id anticipated jdndjs

overall this was amazing. an entire book written in my favorite character's voice is something i've only ever dreamed of and it's genuinely a frickin honour to have a copy in my house. my bookshelf is 2% more cursed now and i would not have it any other way.

one of these days im gonna black out and there will be a twenty-pages long essay on bill's social life on your feed. i advise you to gently scroll past it without looking.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Do you have any advice on making time for writing and avoiding burnout? I'm impressed by the amount of projects you have and how they're consistently high quality.

oh love. sunshine. you tiny fresh vanilla seed (precious & delightful // it is a luxury to interact with you). so first i’m gonna apologize because there’s a 99% chance this is not the advice you’re looking for and SURPRISE i wrote another novel. (so also jot this down… my being prolific is helped by the fact that i literally cannot shut the fuck up to save my life). anyway here are my rules for writing

1. don’t look at the man behind the curtain (in this case that’s me). I had 70% of window and probably 90% of sweatshirt girl drafted before i even started revising && posting individual chapters/ installments. it gives the illusion of me cranking out a new chapter every week but i do NOT do that. i just try to revise once a week. maybe write a half+ chapter of something new. it’s not an illusion i create on purpose. i just know i need TIME to rest my brain before I come back and revise or it’ll start all looking the same to me. so i def frontload my writing before i start posting.

i also do this because i need at least the ghost of an ending to keep writing

i also never originally intended to post window or sweatshirt girl - i was originally just writing for me. so they were mostly done before i even decided to post

i ALSO work at a school and while i do have hours over the summer, i am doing much less (imo) important things when there aren’t students around, sooooo i end up daydreaming and drafting a lot

my writing is also powered by depression (“write the world as i want it to be”) and frankly i don’t recommend that to anyone ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so if i look like i’m producing a lot it’s just because of the way this year has unfolded, and once we get through the next few chapters of window i’m sure I’ll hit a lull because I’m still struggling to write those chapters (sorry in advance folksss)

2. i swear to god creativity (like everything in nature) happens in cycles. blah blah no flower blooms all year && no tree bears fruit every season. fallowness is IMPORTANT for growing gardens. if you are in a slow space - let yourself be slow. sink into the quiet season. speed&&quantity are SO overrated and if you overcultivate your soil there will be no nutrients left for your crops. let the snows come in && blanket you on occasion. they are their own kind of blank page (i swear to fuck sometimes i sound like some kind of ai generating bad proverbs but you knew what you were getting when you came to my asks i guess! i am unashamed)

tbh i have a modest art side-hustle and am working on painting a project that WILL take YEARS - and this whole summer, i have neglected that project in lieu of being a rocket fangirl because frankly my brain needed a break. guess what? my followers understand and it has not been a problem. because any fellow creative should know that the process takes time and is always in flux

(3) a lot of people will tell you - write a little every day. write even if it’s bad. you can always come back with fresh eyes later. I support these ideas in theory. i keep my writing && my sketchbooks where i can access them almost anytime, and even if it’s only for ten minutes, i do write something most days. but more than this - listen to your body and your brain and your heart. and for fanfiction especially - ONLY write when it’s fun. if you start writing from obligation instead of love, you will burn out faster, create less, and even resent this thing that should be an escape for you. (and your readers will feel it, even if they don’t know why). (also your readers - if they are good people - will understand this && support you) (and if they’re not good people, they don’t deserve your heart like that). if your body says take time off then TAKE TIME OFF. don’t let capitalism brainwash you into believing all your joys must entail consistent labor, that every good thing comes with a side of drudgery, or that you can’t stop something once you start it. they don’t. it doesn’t. you can. let yourself have a scrap of unfettered && unpressured happiness in this place. you deserve it, i fuckin swear that to you on my goddamn life.

(4) maybe im inadvertently repeating myself but please. be kind to yourself. let your community be kind to you too. we are supposed to take care of each other. give yourself grace && know we are on your side

okay wow i’m so sorry. fuck me that’s not what you were asking for but it is the best && most earnest && most true advice i can give you. “carve some time out every day” is nice and aspirational and maybe give it a try, but life is hard and don’t blame yourself if you can’t. let fanfiction be a force for joy in your days/nights, not a chore. nope im just saying the same shit over and over LOOK. i love you. you are good. life is short. have fun. that’s truly all & the most important things I have inside me, and I’m sorry for my limitations. for whatever that is worth

♡♡♡

[naffeclipse]

AH MY HEART!!

You're tearing me apart Naff!!!

I caught up on song fish,,

(I'm sorry this is a mess, I'm commenting on both chapters in one go)

I love this sailboat!! I can imagine it looking so pretty! But I need to ask, what kind of sailboat is it??? Did you reference an actual real life one or did you make it up? Sorry I'm extremely curious X3

It's going better and oh my god I'm so proud of y/n! Throughout both of these chapters they're getting so much more comfortable and confident, I just wanna squeeze them and tell them how good they're doing!!!

Gregory is such a hero, so patient and understanding, and now with the secret out, their connection is so much stronger, I love it!!

The boys are doing a good job too, it's hard for them to not seem a little fast paced with the progress since they are the creatures y/n have been so afraid of their entire life. But they're so gentle and patient, they're doing their best, aah they're so lovable!! If they weren't so huge I'd wrap my arms around both of them and spin them around!

The island Sun takes y/n to! I wanna be there with him so bad!! And the gentle way he encourages y/n to get underwater and then y/n being comfortable enough to do it again!? AAAAAH MY HEART!!!!

Gregory and Freddy!! Gosh Freddy is perfect! Also oh lord I'm trying to imagine what he'd look like (more like how I'd draw him, he'd be such a creature pfkfjd)

"Different how?" You whisper.

They are bonded as father and cub.

...

And your bond with Sun and Moon is different. You can't linger on the thought without blushing.

AAAAAAAA!!! *kicking my legs like a little school girl and hiding my face in my hands*

Idk why but I felt something bad was gonna happen as I Moon went hunting in the dream. I was SO EXCITED for a hunt, but part of me was afraid. Oh god I hate that I was right.

Circus baby!!?!? So incredibly unexpected but my gosh I love what you did with her design!! She's the kraken and I LOVE IT!! (I might be enjoying her design a little too much actually, don't mind me as I pick up my pen)

Moon and Sun can be terrifying when they want to be, hell yeaaaa!!! There's the monster fight I've been waiting for!! But oh no MOON NOOOO!!!! D':

AaaaaAAAAA!!! Baby!! They're so happy to be called baby again! The way they vibrate and chirp in delight AAAA my heart!!

Again I'm so happy that y/n and Gregory have each other through this, they're both suffering now but at least they have each other..

...

Well shit. There's Circus again.

That ending to chapter 5 has me rattling you so hard Naff. You really like causing suffering huh? I really hope all that didn't undo too much of y/n's progress,, it just got worse and worse.

Such a good cliffhanger tho! I applaud you for not holding back!! Your writing can turn so dark and sinister in seconds, it's wonderful!

Brilliant work as always! I cannot wait for the next chapter!! The monster fight will be LEGENDARY!!!!

Hope you're doing well btw, I'm sending you good vibes and hugs regardless. Remember to take care of yourself and get plenty of rest ♥️♥️♥️

AHHH, MEEP!!!

It's a sloop sailboat! Very simple but it gets the job done hehe

I'm rattling you so hard right now! I'm so happy you like it and I'm very excited for you to read the last chapter (no rush of course hehe) and augh, I'm really glad you like Circus, she's so evil and fun to write, and ohhhh, your art of her is still so stunning! I love it *mwah*

Thanks, and I hope you're doing well, too! Hugs and kisses, and make sure to take it easy on yourself! Ahh, thank you so much for reading, babe! ♥

[dashielldeveron]

anon from mid december here! god i love winning. ANYWAY much to observe. i love the through lines of government assigned chapstick flavours and the defining moment that makes the soulmate connection work in every chapter. i love that immediately after posting you cited your sources on tenkos characterisation. very funny very charming and you are very right. i adore the mcs vibes she knows so much about so many things with a 50/50 chance of it being useful and she’s MESSY and she’s FIGURING IT OUT and her relationship with tenko teaches her to give herself grace. they’re just so sweet on each other it brings me endless delight as does touyas lil cameos. he’s a dirtbag and he’s a comedian and hes warmed up to the ducks and i want to put him and his fucking HOOVES in my pocket. i’m sure i will return with more thoughts at some point but for now. very delicious to me. WAIT NEW THOUGHT THE FUCKING INVENTORY KEY THING WAS AN EXAMPLE OF THE SOULMATE CONNECTION GOD YOURE GOOD. AND THE GOGGLES sorry i’m re reading the chapter as i type this

ASLDKJFA;SDFJKL;A YOU GET IT!!!!!

oh my god the DUCKS. i needed someone to notice the ducks oh my GOD. he BUILT them a HOUSE in his little art project garden he has a duck for SOME reason in dnd what a LOSER. like he's bonded so hard with them he wanted a fictional one, too!!! like. imagine touya just carrying a duck around in a purse like a small dog. both of them v v v judgy. enemies to lovers duck edition

lololololol "government assigned chapstick flavours" you canNOT tell me that these very kissable boys are only using, if any at all, generic unflavoured chapstick lol. it is STUPID how long i've had "post-canon tomura wears burt's bees tropical pineapple chapstick bc he specifically wants something that Tastes Good" stuck in my head; i'm so glad it's finally in fic and that you've been keeping track asdjfkl;

and yeah i wanted to reblog the shigaraki meta that i'd been considering!!!! bc while i was rereading the manga for this route, i realised that everyone, from police to heroes to villains to students, just make Large Assumptions about shigaraki, and they just Say Things about him. and everyone around them just takes it as fact??? it's like. we the audience are being told things about shigaraki, but they don't match up at all with how we see him act. i am hoping that this is intentional on hori's part, esp. with how heavy-handed shig commentary has been by other characters in the last few chapters, to make the point of "midoriya is the only one who's ever Looked and shigaraki and Perceived." bc, like, AFO and the pro heroes objectify/dehumanise tomura but in different ways. i worry. but so much of what we're shown of shig just doesn't match up with what characters say about him!!! it's odd. i really like him, despite being Told That He Is an Object, specifically one of destruction.

goddddd reader in this route is messy and i have a lot of compassion for her. i think she should allow herself to get angry more often. but i think that gifted kid burnout and basically moving back into your parents' house and people judging your "bad" life decisions even though they can't Know what you're going through--it's a touchy subject, tinged with shame and confusion and insecurity of identity, and tomura, i think, is experiencing his own flavour of that, since he doesn't get to be the Greatest Evil VIllain version of himself that he had in his head for so long and now is Just Some Guy. i didn't want reader to have a saviour complex but i wanted her to Care So Hard, and i hope that came across, esp. since her caring so hard also works with her own insecurities.

also yessssssssss YESSSSSS the KEY the GOGGLES it was there in front of them the whole time!!!!! but they weren't looking for it!!!! bc when soulmate bonds are words and marks, who the fuck is gonna be looking for a soulmate bond in just some weird triviality????? lolololol i talk about wanting to handle tomura with care but gave him the silliest soulmate bond thing. i like how useless it is, because it's, like, tomura doesn't need to be useful rn, either.

godddddd i'm so glad you sent me an ask so i could talk about thissssssss. i'm SO fucking glad that you're noticing details like this and having fun with them!!!!! i am, too!!!!! i love tomura and you and i hope you are having a good 2024 so far!!!! xx.

[overlord-of-chaos]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD GOOD OMENS

(Spoilers ahead for series 2 if you had not already guessed.)

So first of all oh my god. OH MY GOD. I may never recover actually. I’m not sure I want to.

Secondly oh my god. I was expecting something spectacular. And I’ll be damned if Neil Gaiman did not deliver.

(I am writing this in the middle of a field. Well, technically the edge of a field, but it’s right next to another one so it looks like I’m in the middle from a distance. Why am I in a field, you might ask? Because that FUCKING ENDING was so *gesticulates gayly* that I needed to find somewhere to scream at the world. (It’s very cathartic actually I should do it more often.) If anyone nearby is concerned by someone screaming in a field it was probably me. I’m not fine, but I’m not in mortal peril either so no need to disrupt the field screaming. If you own the field and did not want me traipsing through it, I’m terribly sorry I advise you take it up with Mr. Gaiman.)

They kissed they kissed they kissed I mean the ineffable husbands were basically canon from the beginning but I never expected this. (I should know better. I know.)

I tell you what I am loving how many shows/movies at the moment basically seem to be going “gay ‘subtext’? no no darling this gay is text and you cannot argue otherwise” my lil gay heart is delighted actually

And I mean, beyond that… (I’ll come back to it. I’m not done. But I need to give the rest of the plot its due as well.) I’ll admit, I got halfway through episode 5 and thought “how on earth are they going to wrap this up in the space of about an hour? I don’t have any of the answers at all.” I should never have doubted. I know I should never have doubted. But in my defence, who could’ve seen that coming? I hope Gabriel and Beelzebub are very happy together.

Oh, and the opening scene of episode 1? They knew each other when Crowley was an angel? (It does not suit him, but he did make a lovely galaxy.) And then at the very end, Aziraphale offering to make him one again? There’s some poetic symmetry or something in there that I don’t currently have the brain capacity to analyse

(I’m sitting in a tree now, in case anyone was wondering. I bailed on the field because there were humans in it. And by in a tree, I mean it is hollow and I am inside it. I couldn’t climb it even if I wanted to, it’s massive.)

It was worth the wait. It would always have been worth the wait, of course. It would have been worth the wait if it had taken 50 years although I’m not sure my heart would have been able to take the ending by then. And even though I want more already I hope they take all the time they need to make series 3 and make it well. (If they do not series 3 I will riot and given my general worldly (lack of) competence will probably injure myself in the process so they’d better get one.)

Of course no (rant? rave? gay breakdown?) post about Good Omens series 2 would be complete without giving Nina and Maggie my beloved all the respect they deserve. Especially Nina. You tell Crowley. He clearly needed it. You gay meddle right back in Aziraphale and Crowley’s love life, after all, they did gay meddle in yours.

And Aziraphale. Aziraphale. Darling. Angel. Please. Crowley does not want to go to heaven. His communication skills only stretch so far and only when prompted by other meddling gays. You both really need to learn the art of open communication sometime. It will solve a lot of these problems.

Oh, and! And! “I forgive you”? “I forgive you”? “I FORGIVE YOU”? Yeah just go ahead and break my heart as well as his why don’t you??? I have not yet seen what has become of my feed in the last 24ish hours because I had to go straight to writing this down somewhere but I imagine the entire fandom is feral right now OH MY GOD

This was amazing. It was all amazing. Saraqael was amazing. Jim was amazing. I’m struggling to come up with any other adjectives because my brain has been fried clearly

I would go and rewatch it all immediately but I need to form the semblance of a functional human being for this afternoon so I can go out into the world and do things. I will probably have rewatched it before the week is out.

I briefly considered watching this as soon as it came out (midnight UK time, meaning I’d finish at about 5 in the morning. I did this last time. It was an Experience) but decided against it since I had work in the morning. It was a wise decision since there is no way I’d have been able to go the day with no one to talk to about it and finishing it on a Saturday instead gave me the freedom to immediately go scream in a field.

Oh my god. This was one hell of a series. I cannot think coherently about it all I know is that I loved it.

And Neil, if you ever see this: Thank you. For all of it.

[babygirlbdubs]

hello hi mutual ive never spoken to but think of fondly everytime you come across my dash - I just wanted to tell you that your art delights me and I reread the resistance au and i am ROTATING the masquerade. I am so. He. Dancing. hhhhhhhhh

SNIFFLES... HELLO... i love seeing u on the dash and in my notes too ehehe

i cannot express to u how much this means to me oh my god. i've actually had an absolutely horrible day and this just made me cry (/pos) so thank you very very much <3

[yhwhrulz]

True Vine Devotional for November 1

“ I am the True Vine ”

John 15:1

All earthly things are the shadows of heavenly realities—the expression, in created, visible forms, of the invisible glory of God. The Life and the Truth are in Heaven; on earth we have figures and shadows of the heavenly truths. When Jesus says: “I am the true Vine,” He tells us that all the vines of earth are pictures and emblems of Himself. He is the divine reality, of which they are the created expression. They all point to Him, and preach Him, and reveal Him. If you would know Jesus, study the vine.

How many eyes have gazed on and admired a great vine with its beautiful fruit. Come and gaze on the heavenly Vine till your eye turns from all else to admire Him. How many, in a sunny clime, sit and rest under the shadow of a vine. Come and be still under the shadow of the true Vine, and rest under it from the heat of the day. What countless numbers rejoice in the fruit of the vine! Come, and take, and eat of the heavenly fruit of the true Vine, and let your soul say: “I sat under His shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste.”

I am the true Vine.—This is a heavenly mystery. The earthly vine can teach you much about this Vine of Heaven. Many interesting and beautiful points of comparison suggest themselves, and help us to get conceptions of what Christ meant. But such thoughts do not teach us to know what the heavenly Vine really is, in its cooling shade, and its life-giving fruit. The experience of this is part of the hidden mystery, which none but Jesus Himself, by His Holy Spirit, can unfold and impart.

I am the true Vine.—The vine is the living Lord, who Himself speaks, and gives, and works all that He has for us. If you would know the meaning and power of that word, do not think to find it by thought or study; these may help to show you what you must get from Him to awaken desire and hope and prayer, but they cannot show you the Vine. Jesus alone can reveal Himself. He gives His Holy Spirit to open the eyes to gaze upon Himself, to open the heart to receive Himself. He must Himself speak the word to you and me.

I am the true Vine.—And what am I to do, if I want the mystery, in all its heavenly beauty and blessing, opened up to me? With what you already know of the parable, bow down and be still, worship and wait, until the divine Word enters your heart, and you feel His holy presence with you, and in you. The overshadowing of His holy love will give you the perfect calm and rest of knowing that the Vine will do all.

I am the true Vine.—He who speaks is God, in His infinite power able to enter into us. He is man, one with us. He is the crucified One, who won a perfect righteousness and a divine life for us through His death. He is the glorified One, who from the throne gives His Spirit to make His presence real and true. He speaks—oh, listen, not to His words only, but to Himself, as He whispers secretly day by day: “I am the true Vine! All that the Vine can ever be to its branch, “I will be to you.”

Holy Lord Jesus, the heavenly Vine of God’s own planting, I beseech Thee, reveal Thyself to my soul. Let the Holy Spirit, not only in thought, but in experience, give me to know all that Thou, the Son of God, art to me as the true Vine.

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.

[libidomechanica]

“The crickets stirred from her lips, pass and blush the new—born and”

A tanka sequence

               1

Onto the other, as justly that oiled barber lays his bloom! Might I not say so, to give news: niagara is no noisier.

               2

And two of us at Conway dwell and two are dead. The crickets stirred from her lips, pass and blush the new—born and therefore, hey ho!

               3

Ah Maud, you milkwhite fawn, you and I, is this, that my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong. Ride in my belly, he kept on buying.

               4

Of other sight. And for myself no quiet find. Is it perfume. And sing of sorrowes sourse, o ioyfull verse. You love or no?

               5

Alas! Some doe I heare of Poets fury tell, but, God wot, wot not what thou dost foist upon us that is not it at all.

               6

Like Daphne she, as lovely Davies. I dreamt the rosy banquet loves to sip; sweet love remember how soon our life, here, grows old.

               7

Peace be my lot, far- off sail is blown by the breeze in thee: the colours tourne. Of righteous feeling made her pitiful. My Lady.

               8

Burns: pass by hunders, nameless wretched race, singing alone in her angelic finds, In fairnesse raigneth! Tan sacred beauty shows.

               9

Till, having traffic with thou art set in thy sweet spell o’ witching and bright wilt thou hast my head grown slightlest bondage made aware.

               10

And many a thicket wild; while he pursues her night and small! I thank all who in the muck of the Matin-bell, and looked at me.

               11

Under whose dear love I rise and streaming teares doth cherish! The muttering days and do not know my shames and pleasaunt layes there.

               12

Of this praise to mine own praise is crown’d; but then begins and endeth. Others love that’s in her grave, and, oh, the dim and wear the fence.

               13

For decisions and revisions, before the taking of Michelangelo. A winning wave, deserving note, in their splendour.

               14

The fieldes so free. The farmer ploughs the man I am may cease thy sorrowe and deathes dreeriment. To answer him fair with&.

               15

That nys on earth she did abyde. Again, his feet beneath these same stars, sun, moon, all shrink away, a desert vast without remorse?

               16

Worship to its ray? I cheery on did wander: I thought upon thyself, wilt say, alas! Advise the present would show it dead.

               17

—She is a winsome wee thing, this dear wee wife o’ mine. Somewhere ages and ages hence: two roads diverged in a wood, and I sigh.

               18

In the pull of gravity, which soules, euen soules, together side by side. The flouds do gaspe, for dryed is thyr sourse, o ioyfull verse.

               19

Some laid her forth, while some did bring, to wash her, water from thee. Sets you most rich in love; flesh stays no father is mute in her e’e.

               20

Music I heard with your eyes are bull, your memory stole into my heart to loue, as fast there kept. For who dare to eat a peach?

               21

We are waiting for breath, when his friend the spring. Rich in love’s chronicle, o Dianeme, now farewell: this brown paper bag of peach.

               22

Which he climbs to watch the grist of its insides grow. The measure by thy continual haste. For as he eats and drinks he grows old.

               23

Then ye are seven. She gaz’d on me, and mony a sweet babe fatherless, and wrought, that shrild as lowde as Larke, o carefull verse.

               24

For I have cost you. When Lucy ceased to be; am an attendant lord, one that endures, from life that due to thee my delight!

               25

And the sea by sea- girls wreathed with visions and revisions, before we grow burnt as a moth. The unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea.

               26

Just as fair, and hang theyr heads, as they would learn it, were more than these thought to everything. Should be the executioner of me.

               27

And withers the face you have but fed on the arrow we cannot live? And flouds do gaspe, for dryed is thyr sourse, and innocence?

               28

That will. Her, ere she couth the sea of life and of May, singing the wildness of the ashes I cried my sex will be time to dye.

               29

In springtime, the one I ate? Of bird of flower, whom I’ve watch’d six or seven days, and she grows old. They look into the earth Hell!

               30

And sad and groveling the cover, separation I may give that due to the heart of bird of flower, or shape, which still doth grow?

               31

My love engrafted to thee, and time for me! I bow’d to her dear Eulalie became my smiling died; and Phyllis be, you are free.

               32

And thereby ribbands to flow confused and brother in the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Your judgment knew no reason her to loue.

               33

Since I learn, and then go home to bed. Before getting up to go dance with fortune’s dearest Chloris’ dearest spite, take all my heart.

               34

By complexities or cries. And now good-morrow to our waking soul on me she stared. The silent sapphire-spangled marriage.

               35

Toward childhood will not pass. Doth part his function and is one. So that either, but keep a temperate brain; for not to her betight?

               36

Such make his destitute but, then, is not it, at all. Oh stay, three sins in killing three. And people drinking, laughing is forgot.

               37

Lives upon his shrieks and cracknells and such country pleasure lost for want of conscience hold it that like a zeppelin. Its crisis?

               38

They will say: How his hair is growing thin! Thou art set in thy refulgent thronelet, that they seem alive when you can no more.

               39

And when we purge, even so, being only the sugar, but that salt of righteous feeling made her pitiful. But gleg as light.

               40

All day she peered from her lips, pass and feels its life in the hubbub of lies; from the spring. And laughing e’en o’ lovely Davies.

               41

Boldly dare invade that myrth thee made of two, and this, all pleasures, childishly? In the mean is best: desire, grows old with you.

               42

The Slave’s spicy forests, and got, ’twas but a fayre this world, how God will bring them about? Of mortal millions live alone can die.

               43

And left so dead and rites vnfit. Ye weel may wi’ the far-off sail is blown back when the green, they measured my size against movie stars.

               44

First starf, and roos, and slipper hope of mortal million’d accidents creep in twixt vows and change decrees of kings, tan sacred rites vnfit.

               45

Ungrateful, that for fact, whichever way one travell’d thro’ the West. And in the fridge, on the desert all around. To everything.

               46

And fading-time does shed its fruit. Women although my heart you moved among the shopping cart as a cane that eats at me alone?

               47

When the moor; but gleg as light and Day? Their gross painting might be in earthlie mould, that did not come. Let streaming again of the spring.

               48

Now is time to dye. I grant thou woulds’t, when the happy news, blush from East to West, till the meant, as well: the kind love is in her joy!

               49

So soon as, Julia, I am gone away, gone far away, until he can a Maiden win. The wound and in its native land.

               50

She is, that I call her love retain. The earth that with someone’s Face— book sonogram a tiny dictum full of higher vaine.

               51

This place, but makes me tired of all, self-viewed,—nothing repels thee,. Charms my very saul, the kind love to see, through loues misgouernaunce.

               52

A passion you wrong: you take the roofs and warms: this is the excitement the nipple learns. Time to turn back and descend the spring.

               53

I shouldn’t but will, and in its den, and sends a spark up: is it true we are wed? As balm for any good. Kind love is in her e’re.

               54

There shall be fain; if it be nay, friends as before have writ do lie, even so, being only the skies. Until she smiled on me.

               55

Blush it thro’ the West. Did, till we love in this unholy battle array, ready in hand, march with barrel wine, when none to Chide!

               56

Even for this vain bubble’s shadow we had made. Because thou hast leave me, do not remember me; you understand is barber.

               57

Met her to-day with a bag of almost despising, haply I think for a bride. Rosy is the excitement the nipple learns.

               58

It settles in the dream of such a close communion! On her door, shit wrapped in a newspaper posted onto the other give.

               59

I traveller: for ever and everything else is still. The first conceits, but the day, and smile a hard-set smile, like a jester’s.

               60

Like a patient, I will strayne. Then did the little army down, and play till the world, each one to the Desert; there will be transfixed!

               61

Down that pink snapper and steal; I know it, and smile than think that were not so great matter; I have been worth while, after the cocked haye.

               62

The fatall sisters and flip-flops. Of the desert wild they both wander in the measure. Two are gone to sea, yet, ye are seven.

               63

About the heart knows. Virgin bright; then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher; the nice yellow pin on your plate; time for all the difference.

               64

She said a sin, nor shame, then The Sage marvell’d at his Towardness, and cause or a consequence? Her griefs will tell you can no more.

               65

A Virgin bright; then hey, for a lass wi’ the weel- stockit farms. Let fall upon its back upon the pools that we don’t so much more?

               66

When not to behold the lover’s sigh. A one as would lie, in springtime, there, it went again down to a hole in theyr stead perforse.

               67

Melt in teares flowe in the charms o’ lovely Davies. His art can take their claes, or those bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume.

[lindajenni]

feb 25

not my will but Thine be done "then I said, “behold, I come; in the scroll of the book it is written of me." psa 40:7 i know that was written specifically about Jesus, but do you know each one of our lives are also written somewhere as well?  "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.  and in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them." psa 139:16 do you really believe that?  then let me tell you a little story. ------- a visitor at a school for the deaf and dumb was writing questions on the blackboard for the children.  by and by he wrote this sentence: “why has God made me to hear and speak, and made you deaf and dumb?” the awful sentence fell upon the little ones like a fierce blow in the face.  they sat palsied before that dreadful “why?”  and then a little girl arose. her lip was trembling.  her eyes were swimming with tears.  straight to the board she walked, and, picking up the crayon, wrote with firm hand these precious words: “even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight!” ------- what a reply!  it reaches up and lays hold of an eternal truth upon which the maturest believer as well as the youngest child of God may alike securely rest — the truth that God is your Father. do you mean that?  do you really and fully believe that?  when you do, then your dove of faith will no longer wander in weary unrest, but will settle down forever in its eternal resting place of peace.  that of “your Father's will!” are you familiar with this scripture?  "now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth.  and His disciples asked Him, saying, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  Jesus answered, “neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him." john 9:1-3 you might well say, "but God wasn't glorified until he was healed," and that would be true in that instance.  and certainly we should pray for healing because the devil is hard at work against God's elect.  but just because the outcome is not what WE want, doesn't mean God doesn't have a plan.  who can tell what plans God has for another life?  it isn't always necessary healing that adds glory to His name.  fanny crosby became blinded for life and in spite of it all she write innumerable beautiful hymns along with following acts bringing comfort and aid to the multitude of lives she touched.  she once wrote this lyric: "oh, what a happy soul i am,although i cannot see! i am resolved that in this worldcontented i will be" can you be contented with what God has allowed in your life?  "can you still believe that a day comes for all of us, however far off it may be, when we shall understand; when these tragedies, that now blacken and darken the very air of heaven for us, will sink into their places in a scheme so august, so magnificent, so joyful, that we shall laugh for wonder and delight. — arthur christopher bacon no chance hath brought this ill to me; ’tis God’s own hand, so let it be, He seeth what i cannot see. there is a need-be for each pain, and He one day will make it plain that earthly loss is heavenly gain. like as a piece of tapestry viewed from the back appears to be naught but threads tangled hopelessly; but in the front a picture fair rewards the worker for his care, proving his skill and patience rare. Thou art the Workman, i the frame. Lord, for the glory of Thy Name, perfect Thine image on the same. what does the Holy Spirit speak to us through paul?  "i have learned in whatever state i am, to be content: i know how to be abased, and i know how to abound.  everywhere and in all things i have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." phil 4:11-23  Father God, i cry along with a multitude of others, "not my will but Thine be done."  to God be all the glory!