#jesus christ the last few days have been full on to say the least

[christiangeistdorfer]

sir that is MY toyota deputy team principal

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory. 

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus. 

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…? 

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you. 

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way. 

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…” 

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips. 

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts. 

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night. 

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out.��He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8. 

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on. 

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it. 

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens. 

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?” 

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?” 

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.” 

“...What’s that?” 

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one. 

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through. 

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?” 

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh. 

“Why not?” 

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back. 

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it. 

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him. 

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him. 

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world. 

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?” 

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap. 

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being. 

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you. 

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain. 

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one. 

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.” 

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground. 

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance. 

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe. 

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need. 

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. 

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one. 

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.” 

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt. 

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants. 

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size. 

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood. 

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back. 

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured… 

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose…. 

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead. 

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.” 

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

[bangchxnnie]

how long will this last? (pt. 2)

pairing: felix and fem!reader

tropes: friends to enemies to lovers, idiots in love, brother’s best friend if you squint? , college!au?

content warnings: 3rd person writing, alcohol is mentioned, reader is nicknamed barbie, felix is stupid, cursing, orange cats, shitty writing, bin being bin, massive miscommunication, what can barely be considered angst, some suggestive elements (but as always, read at your own risk buddy!)

chapter word count: ≈4.7k

|| hlwtl masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

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“Did you eat my fucking pasta leftovers?” She groans, searching through the fridge. 

“You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up and ask what is off limits and what isn’t.” 

“You’re such a prick.” She slams the fridge shut and fights a full-on pout. 

My pasta…

“What bit your ass?” 

It takes a while to explain everything to her brother fully. With how busy his job has been, he’s barely popped in over the last few months. She’s be lying if she said it wasn’t good to see him, though. Scare or not. 

She keeps stopping to fight the residual anger, sadness, or the weird mix of both that comes whenever she says Felix’s name. To Chris’s credit, he does his best to sit and just listen. Until she gets to the part about Felix saying she’s not worth it. He laughs at that. 

“What’s so funny?”

“God, he’s so transparent.”

She looks at him in confusion. 

“Continue. Please.” 

BP, the little traitor, sits in Chris’s lap the whole time, purring contentedly at the constant affection.

Can’t trust none of these hoes. 

When she finishes, he sits in silence for a moment. 

“So it sounds like he’s jealous, dude.” He says simply. 

B immediately shakes her head in protest and waves him off for good measure. 

“No, he’s just a dick.” 

“That may be true too, and I do want to kick his ass, but he’s clearly and obviously jealous of you and Binnie.” 

“You’re clinically insane. There’s nothing to be jealous of!” Her irritation could not be more obvious. Folded arms, jaw tensed, eyes skyward. “He’s just an ass, and there’s nothing more to it.” 

“Are you really that oblivious? I mean, c’mon, I know I’m the brains of the family, but-“ She smacks him upside the head. “Ow! Don’t damage the goods!” 

“Then stop saying dumb shit!” Chris glares at her. 

“I’m not. Anyone with eyes and half a brain cell can see he’s into you. Like, well into you. And has been. It’s quite gross, actually.” Her heart rate picks up at his words. She doesn’t actually believe him, but it gives her butterflies all the same. 

She covers by raising an eyebrow at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But think about it. He threw a fit that day because he came home and saw you flirting with Bin.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him! That’s gross. Bin was just being himself. He’s always like that. Felix knows this.”

“Doesn’t mean he likes it. Maybe he just snapped.” 

She doesn’t buy it. They’re grown-ass people.

If Felix really was that upset, why wouldn’t he just say something? He’s always been able to tell me when he’s bothered.

If it were that simple, why didn’t you tell Felix how you felt, either? 

…Even my brain is a traitorous traitor. Why are we defending him?

“Okay, fine. What about that day he lied about his laptop?” 

“Maybe he genuinely forgot he had it. Or maybe, that loud ass sound you heard was him at the door.” 

B doesn’t say anything. 

“You said he was in the hallway, right? Maybe he had come home, saw Bin and you doing…whatever the fuck you were doing, and left.” 

Surely she would have noticed if Felix had come in, right? She’s normally so observant. Or at least, she thought she was. It’s a lot of information to process. 

“I mean, really? What the hell were you doing?”

“Irrelevant. What do I do about it?” B reaches for her cat, still seated in Chris’s lap. BP hisses at her. 

Fucker.

“Talk to him, dude. Jesus Christ, I thought you were smarter than this.” Chris just sighs. 

“Thanks, dipshit. And how exactly do you expect me to do that when he ignores me at every turn?” 

“I can’t give you all the answers. Damn. You’ve got to do some of the work yourself. Now,” He gently sets BP down and stands to stretch. “I’d really like to get some sleep. Is the spare room clean?” 

B thinks she’s probably going to kill him before this week is over.

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“What about that one? He’s so cute!” Felix points to a nearby cage, cooing at the cat on the other side. 

“His sign literally says, ‘I Don’t Like People.’” B counters, shaking her head. 

Felix just smiles that goofy smile at her that she loves. “Which means you already have something in common!” 

Her mouth drops in semi-shock at his comment, and she half-heartedly nudges his arm. “I like you well enough!” The same arm wraps around him and she continues walking. “How about this one?” She points to a couple of cages over; a little paw sticking out between the tiny metal poles of the door. 

“I dunno…she seems a little small. So dainty. She’s got to be able to hold her own in your house.” Felix plays with her as much as he can through the barrier, even going so far as to make baby talk to her. B giggles, just watching him for a bit. He’s so gentle with everything; no wonder the littles flock to him at family events. “Whad’ya think, Beautiful? Do you wanna come home with us? Just say the word, and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Us. The way that one word makes B feel is more than dangerous. Floaty, warm, and fuzzy. After all, there is no us. Just her and Felix. As friends. Until the end of time. 

How miserable.

Felix jolts back when the cat swipes at him, catching his knuckle. “Ow! Fuck!” B blinks back to reality.

“Serves you right for calling her dainty.” 

Felix throws his free arm up in defeat. “Fair enough.”

 He steps into B’s space silently, suddenly laser-focused on reaching the top of her head. He gently moves a stray hair back into place, following it down to tuck it behind her ears. “Sorry, Gorgeous, it was standing up weird.” It’s all he offers in explanation. 

Not that she minds. But between the pet name and the touch, she’s sure her face is outing her in more ways than one. 

You’ve got to get it under control, girl! Get. A. Grip. 

Felix clears his throat, steps back, and offers his arm to her. “Shall we?” 

They interact with a few more cats, and every time Felix talks to the cats, it tugs at B’s heartstrings. She can’t help but watch the way his freckles crinkle when he smiles or how his eyes light up when any of the cats interact with him back. “How are you today, sweetheart?” or “Are you having a good day?” or B’s personal favorite, complete with baby voice-“I might have to just steal you for myself. Yeah, I think I do.” 

Eventually, they come across one that seems thoroughly uninterested in Felix. Felix tries to play with him, but he doesn’t budge. “Well, fine. Be like that then.” He pouts like a petulant toddler. 

“I think he’s just tired.” 

“Is he? He seems pretty indifferent toward me.” 

“Let me try.”

“Be my guest, gorgeous.”

B tries to coax him out from the corner of his enclosure. He slowly sits his head up and just stares at her. At least it’s more of a reaction than what he gave the man.

The cat approaches the cage leisurely like he has all the time in the world. Which, one supposes, he does. B drops her arm from Felix’s to get closer to the semi-curious cat, who lets Barbie pet him and seems content with just that. 

“I think he likes me? Maybe?” She searches the cage for his information card. 

Name: Bobby Pin 

Felix laughs. It compels another smile from B, much like anything else he does. “Bobby Pin? How do they come up with these names?” 

“I mean, my friend in grade school had a cat named Crayon. She tried to eat one as a kitten right after they got her. So there it was.” 

The way he listens so intently when she speaks makes her feel like anything she has to say is important. That she is important, it’s a feeling she cherishes more than he knows. 

Felix tries to reach for the cat again, seemingly feeling like he’s missing out. When the cat grumbles but lets him, both humans laugh. B decides that he’s the one.

She goes searching for a shelter employee. 

“Excuse me, we’d like to fill out an application for this one?” 

The memory pulses a pang in her chest that feels so wrong. It doesn’t seem right that just a few months ago, they were fine, and now, he’s saying shit like, “You’re not worth it”. It doesn’t make sense. Her conversation with Chris and the memory keeps her up until her eyelids can’t hold their own weight anymore. 

She manages an entire 36 hours almost completely people-free. She gets out of bed three times the first day. Once to use the bathroom, once to grab an obscene amount of snacks and dash back to bed, and a third time to grab the remote that fell underneath her bed. Other than that, she’s either sleeping, eating, or watching episodes of a show she’s seen a million times. It usually leads to another nap, honestly. The other days it's even less. Maybe twice, if that. Chris checks on her once a day to ensure she’s alive, asks if she wants him to stay (she says no), tells her to call if she needs him, and leaves. She doesn’t call, though. In fact, she turns her phone completely off to avoid everyone else. 

The fourth morning, however, another unwelcome visitor breaks into the apartment. He also has a key, but that’s beside the point. 

“B, are you home?” She’s already awake but would rather be sleeping off what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. Maybe it’s from all the crying. Maybe someone snuck in the middle of the night and poured alcohol down her throat. Maybe it’s from the yelling. She can’t be sure. The possibilities are endless, really. But what she is sure of is the fact that she doesn’t want to deal with Changbin. Not today.

Die. I want to crawl into a hole and make it my home like I’m some kind of mole. I could be a mole man. Mole-woman? Mole-person. 

She snaps her eyes shut and listens for his footsteps. She’s trying to gauge how far away he is since he says nothing else. She is unsuccessful.

“Well, you look awful.” 

Fuck.

“Go away.” She pulls the covers over her head and turns away from the door. 

“No, we’re not doing this sulking thing. C’mon.” He grabs BP from the foot of the bed and sets him on the floor. BP is unhappy about it, grumbling annoyed cat noises while he stretches and searches for a new sleep spot. 

“Oh, hush. You love me.” Bin argues with himself, it seems, because BP ignores him. 

He gently tugs at Barbie’s comforter. He’s trying to give her a chance to let it go. And when she doesn’t, he just snatches it from her hands and tosses it to the end of the bed. He sits on the edge and waits for her to sit up. She doesn’t. 

“Um, hello?! I have no pants on!” B protests, though she makes no effort to hide anything. Her sleep shirt is long enough that it covers everything anyway. 

“Oh, no! Legs! What’s a man to do?!” Bin faux gasps, clutching his hand to his chest. 

He deadpans seconds later. “C’mon, Barbie.” 

“If you say, let’s go party, I will kick you in the stomach.” 

Bin blinks at her. “Just get up!” 

“I don’t want to!” She thrashes around in protest, tears already threatening to expose themselves. “I’m in pain, I’m humiliated, I’ve been invaded, I’m-“ 

“Invaded?” Bin tilts his head, amused. 

She props herself up on her elbows. “Chris is here.” And just as quickly, drops herself back flat on the bed.

Bin mouths a silent oh. 

“Well, he can come too.” Changbin pats her leg and stands. 

“Where are we allegedly going?” Once again up on her elbows, B eyes him carefully. 

“The beach. Obviously.” 

An eyebrow raises. “In autumn?”

“Nobody said we were swimming. Now get up, and take a shower. You smell like sadness.” 

He finds his way to her tall dresser across the room and starts rummaging through it for appropriate clothing. 

She sighs in defeat, dragging herself up to a sitting position. A hefty yawn escapes her lips, and it dawns on her she has no idea what time of day it is.

“Wait, what time is it?” B searches for her phone, but it’s not in its usual spot on her nightstand. “And where’s my phone?” 

“7:30.” 

“AM?!” 

Bin waves her off as if it’s unimportant information. 

“You do realize this is an executable offense.” 

He turns his head to look at her, evil smile spread across his face. “Kill me and I’ll haunt you until your last breath.” 

It’s probably true. 

He tosses some clothes at her and points to the bathroom, exiting the bedroom in the same stride. “Shower. I’m gonna go wake your brother up.” 

“Best of luck, soldier.” 

She takes a deep breath, determined to face whatever the day throws her way. She quickly grabs the clothes thrown at her and heads to the bathroom. As she steps inside, a feeling of dread overcomes her. 

Why do I feel like this day is going to be a shitshow?

She closes her eyes and prays for the best. 

The shower is surprisingly refreshing. Once she finally convinced herself to get in, it’s hard to get out. A full wash can be quite draining most days, but the effort came with a little more ease once the warm stream also warmed the room. She leaves a little less dread-filled and a little more hungry.

After she gets dressed and styles herself to her liking, she heads to the spare room to see how successful Bin is at getting Chris up. He’s usually hard to rise since he doesn’t sleep much, either. 

She finds her brother and her friend..giggling. On the bed. Bin lightly punches Chris’s arm, and Chris falls into a full fit of laughter. 

She smiles, happy to see some of her favorite people so happy. “What’s so funny?” 

Their laughs settle, and Chris waves her off. “It’s nothing.” 

Bin agrees, lingering laughter escaping. “Don’t worry about it, Barbie.” 

She frowns, but doesn’t press. The uneasy feeling in her is growing, but doesn’t have the energy to have it out with them about it.

“Oh. Well, are we going to leave soon?” Her entire demeanor shifts.  

“Soon, we’re just waiting for one more arrival.” No one has time to address B's body language because as if on cue, the door shakes violently. The doorknob attempts to turn, but, of course, it’s locked. The door shakes again, and B sighs. 

“Why would you leave a brainless squirrel outside by himself?” 

Bin shrugs.

“I heard that!” It’s slightly muffled, but the hurt is still there. 

B unlocks the door and steps back, allowing Jisung to clamber inside. He almost crashes into Barbie with how aggressively he runs in. He’s breathing heavy, dramatically sets his hands on his knees to ‘catch his breath’. When he stands, he narrows his eyes at his friend.

“The door wouldn’t open.” 

B laughs. “Because it's locked, dumbass.” 

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“When it didn’t open?” She ruffles his hair. He swats her hand away and attempts to fix it, muttering something under his breath. 

Han Jisung is…a special friend. He can be incredibly intelligent, and very insightful, but it’s blanketed by a lack of common sense sometimes. Most times. He likes to say he’s too smart for his own good. There’s a sliver of truth to the statement. 

“Can we go now?” 

The beach itself is relatively uneventful. Bin packed a picnic kit and some chairs for the group to just sit and talk for a while. He even packed a book for B for when she’s burnt out socially. It’s a kind gesture, but B opts to just sit and listen to the waves, conversation as her background noise. Jisung chooses to sit with her in silence. Eventually, she lays her head on his shoulder. It’s the happiest she’s been all week. 

Nobody says anything to her until they start getting back to the car.

“You know, it’s okay to talk about it.” Chris says, pulling his seatbelt across his lap in the driver’s seat. “How you feel about it.” 

B shakes her head. “I don’t know how I feel.” 

“That’s fine too.” It’s the last he says on the subject. 

The rest of the boys pile in after closing the back of the car, resuming whatever new conversation they’d started on the walk back. B doesn’t really take in much of it. Until she heard something about her brother’s birthday.

“Oh, yeah! Have you finished everything for Saturday, Chris?” 

“Yeah, about that…” He cringes, like the words are paining him.

“What did you do.” 

“ThevenuecanceledandwehavenowhereelsetohostitsoIwashopingyouwouldletususetheapartment.” The words blur together, but she manages to get the gist. And she’s not happy about it.

“And how long have you known this, Christopher?” She stares him down through the rear view mirror. 

“Just since yesterday! I swear! I was just as mad as you are but I know that you love me and you’ll do me this major solid and I’ll owe you big time.” He flashes her his biggest smile, hoping it’ll seal the deal. The car is quiet, save for the radio, while she contemplates her answer. 

“…Yeah, you’ll owe me big time.” 

The whole car lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re the best!” Chris sing-songs. B flips him the bird, smile fighting at the corners of her lips. 

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Turns out, Chris has much more of his party planning shit together than anyone realises. The transition from venue to house party is relatively smooth over the next few days.. Hiding away the valuables and ultra breakables (nobody plans to get that wasted, but who knows), deep cleaning every room in the house, locking doors to off-limit rooms, the works. 

“Do you really not trust your friends that much?” Barbie questions. She’s washing up the rest of the dishes before she has zero energy left. 

“It’s not his friends he’s worried about, Barbie.” Seungmin joins in, spread comfortably across her couch.

“Oh, right. The New Year’s incident.” Jisung had gotten so drunk he’d gone up to every single person at the party and challenged them to an arm wrestle, and if they lost, he got to kiss them. He almost left with a broken arm. 

“We agreed we won't talk about that anymore.” Jisung gripes anytime somebody mentions it. 

“You agreed. With yourself.” B counters. 

Jisung, Changbin, and Chris all make weird eye contact with one another. It sets off that uneasy feeling in B’s stomach again. It’s so frustrating to feel out of the loop. Again. 

“What is this, some sort of weird intimate mindmeld? What aren’t you guys telling me?” 

They make eye contact again, and Bin clears his throat. 

“Um, Felix is, uh, coming to the party.” 

Her stomach drops at his name. Whether that’s from anger or something else is unknown. She hides her feelings behind a neutral face. 

“Oh. Well, I knew that. He and Chris have been friends for ages.” 

Nobody’s buying it. 

“Are you sure?” He speaks slowly; he’s scared to spook her. 

“Yes. Just because he can’t be civil doesn’t mean I can’t. Kill ‘em with kindness, yeah?” She shrugs and walks off to her room as casually as she can manage. 

She locks her door behind her and can feel a panic attack rising with every breath. She uses her grounding techniques to fight it off before it consumes her. 

Okay, I have exactly…16 hours to get my shit together. Oh shit. Chris was right. I just need to get through the night, and then I can sit his ass down and sort this shit out. His being into me is the only logical explanation for all his bullshit. It has to be. Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him when this is all over. 

She eventually hears a knocking sound in the back of her mind. It takes a few seconds to register that it is, in fact, a real knocking sound. 

“Hey, y’okay? We can tell him no if that’s what you want. Believe me, I have no issue doing that with how stupid he’s been acting lately.” 

She tries to laugh, but it comes out choked. It’s more air than sound. Some stray tears get eaten, which is weird because she didn’t even realize she was crying. She wipes her face and gets off the bed to unlock the door. 

She’s met on the other side of the door with Chris leaning on the doorframe, a sympathetic look adorning his face. 

“It’s okay, really. One night won’t kill me.” 

“I’d be a shit brother to let him around after all this.” 

“Good thing it’s not your call, then! It’s mine, and I say I want to move forward.” 

Chris nods. He knows when it’s the final straw for her, and she’s nearing it. He doesn’t bring it up again. She’s grateful for it. 

One more day and I’ll get my answers. 

….

….

She jolts awake, a scream echoing through her brain. Was it real? Was it in her head? 

She takes a moment to process her surroundings. The clock says 2:26 am. It’s dark. It’s cold. She realises 3 things:

She had a nightmare.

Felix is not here. She doesn’t know where he is. Thankfully? Unfortunately? Why do I wanna know where he is?

The scream was real, as noted by Chris and Changbin rushing to her room to see what had happened. My bad, bro. 

It takes a cup of tea, half a movie, and an extra body (Changbin) in her room to get her back to sleep. It’s in moments like this that she deeply appreciates the friends she has and the way they support her. 

When she wakes in normal operating hours, Changbin is still asleep in her bed. Granted, he’s somehow wrapped up in two blankets, and one of his legs is hanging off the bed, but he’s still there. She reaches across and attempts to unravel him because it must be hot like that, but all he does is grumble something that sounds like, “Get off my head,” and rolls toward the middle of the bed.

Can't say I didn’t try. 

B leaves him to his fate and gets herself ready for the day. 

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“Hi! Thank you for coming!” B greets guests happily, hugging and smiling as each person steps over the threshold of her apartment. She gestures to the nearest bedroom, offers them a place to drop their bag and coat, and tells them to enjoy themselves. It’s the same formula for nearly every person. 

While doing rounds, she spots a familiar face by the back door. 

“Look at you, all dressed up!” She wolf whistles at him, and Seungmin’s face reddens, but he brushes her off. Truthfully, it's just a button-up and pants, but he looks good anyway.

“I was told dress nice or die, so.” He does his best to keep a neutral face, but it’s obvious he’s in good spirits. 

“Well, you look very nice. Very handsome.” B teases, pinching at his cheek. She loves to mess with him like an older sister, and as much as he complains, B has a feeling he doesn’t mind one bit. To save face, however, he ducks away and wanders off to find his friend Jeongin. 

Chris is mingling happily as cohost, beer in hand, as he hugs or high-fives his friends who made it out here. Communicating the last-minute change was the hardest part, but they made it work. It's nice to see him relaxed. It doesn’t go unnoticed how he works himself into the ground at that studio of his. Hopefully, this week has been a nice break from that. 

A hand on her back makes her jump,and she gets immediately defensive. Have spins around, ready to say something about personal space, but it’s just Changbin. “My bad, my bad! I didn’t mean to scare you!” He looks…nice. Fitted polo shirt that shows off his arms (shocker) and neutral pants. It’s a good look when you add in the watch on his wrist. 

“Just wanted to tell you that you look cute, Barbie!” He continues, gesturing to the dress B picked for the evening. Black and simple. Hair and makeup to match. 

Elegant. Classy. Easy, breezy, beautiful, covergirl. 

She smiles. “It has pockets!” She dips her hands into the pockets and twirls the dress to show it off. 

“I’m thrilled for you and your pockets. Do you want a drink?” She takes him up on his offer, and he sets off on his mission. 

In the meantime, she checks up on supplies. Everything seems to be good. Something catches her attention back toward the entry, and B’s heart drops to her ass. 

In walks Felix. And he looks divine. Black turtleneck, black pants, he even dyed his hair. She swears time has stopped.

Holy shit. Just, holy shit.

She agreed with everyone earlier against greeting him for fear of a cold shoulder. She knows herself, and she won’t let it slide if he decides to show out today, and today is not the day for that. Tomorrow, definitely, but not today. Instead, she just watches him walk in and barely notices the person following behind him.

Binnie returns with her drink, and they watch Felix timidly approach Chris. They share a mildly awkward embrace. Another person is standing beside Felix, a woman who looks just as, if not more, uncomfortable by the situation. They can’t hear what’s being said, but they see Chris give Felix a weird look before turning his attention to the woman. Chris greets her politely, gestures to the kitchen, and makes eye contact with Bin across. 

It genuinely looks like he’s trying to say something telepathically, and Bin almost looks like he understands. 

Men. How fucking weird. 

Just like it’s weird that Bin steps behind her, semi-casually wrapping an arm around her waist. “Don't do anything crazy.” Is all he says. She’s so busy getting ready to question how much he’s had to drink and what the fuck he means that she doesn’t notice when Felix approaches. Felix clears his throat and stops an awkward distance away. 

She acknowledges him by meeting his eye but doesn’t break Bin’s hold. 

“Felix.” Bin doesn’t hide his ire. Apparently, things haven’t been as smooth as he’s been telling Barbie it has been. She makes a mental note to bring it up later. 

“Long time no see, huh?” He attempts a laugh, but it falls flat.

B scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”

Bin squeezes her waist, a warning. She ‘accidentally’ steps on his foot in response.

“How are you?” He looks straight at B. He almost sounds…genuine. She contemplates giving him a real answer. Changbin answers before she can say anything-“We’re fine.” 

Felix goes silent. The moment stretches, long and very awkward. It’s becoming more and more uncomfortable with each blink, and B prepares to just walk away before Bin decides to speak up. 

“Who’s your friend?” He gestures to the woman pretending to look around the room. Felix reaches for her hand, and she smiles, interlocking their fingers. She’s pretty. Like, really pretty. Between the two of them, B’s not exactly sure who she should be looking at. 

“This is my girlfriend, Aila.”

Changbin’s grip on ‘his’ girl tightens. 

I think I’m gonna throw up.

[slutboybarbie]

Are you ever gonna write more about Chase Davenport? Its ok if you don't, I just love how you write for him <3

Hi sorry it took me so long !! Hopefully you like this one<3

Jealousy

Chase Davenport x Reader

18+

Warning/summary: dom chase, secret relationship, dumbification

~~~

Having Chase as your boyfriend and dom was amazing. He took care of you, made sure you were always happy, always knew what you needed, and made sure you were okay with everything the two of you did together.

His only "problem"- it wasn't even a problem, you loved it about him- is that he gets jealous. Pure, unbridled anger that arose in his chest at the sight of what he thinks is you with another.

So you, a person with a very flirty personality, plus a whole house full of sexy ass heroes? Not ideal.

For Chase at least.

He'd insisted on keeping your relationship private, not wanting to put too much pressure on the two of you. Even with your sneaking around, some of the team already knew.

Leo, Bree, and Sebastian(who'd been staying with y'all for a while now) were bionic humans and downright nosey for gods sake, not too much got by them, and Adam, poor Adam, just needs to learn how to knock before entering a room.

They'd cornered him one morning in the kitchen, commenting on the fresh hickey you'd just planted on his neck the night before.

"Oh my- Chase Davenport, is that a hickey?", Leo said, hand on his chest and imitating a voice that sounded a lot like Tasha.

Chase froze for a sec, his cheeks turning that beautiful shade of pink, before deciding to not respond, and keep on making his coffee.

"Jesus Christ, we're gonna have to start calling Y/N the human vacuum. Look at the size of that thing!", Bree had laughed out, causing the others to join in.

Chase froze for the second time that day, coffee mug still in hand and turned around to look at his friends like a deer caught in headlights, "You know?!"

They all just laughed more at his facial expression before he turned to Adam, "You. I knew you knew already. You told them?"

Adam's hands quickly came up in defense, "Don't look at me, I had no idea they knew."

Chase hated the fact that they knew because the once harmless flirting was now purposeful. You were unaware of the extra cheekiness but Chase definitely wasn't.

The way Leo would make sure to refer to you as "Doll" whenever speaking to you, causing you to giggle, the way Sebastian would sensually guide you through your training, a few more touches to the arms and hips than usual, Bree taking any chance she could to cuddle up with you in the common room, and Adam was unaware of the whole thing.

They loved seeing the interaction between the two of you as you tried to figure out what was wrong with your boyfriend, his jaw clenched and face a light red color.

Chase let it go, deciding that some flirting wasn't hurting anyone, and he knew it wasn't serious.

That didn't last long.

It happened at one of Davenport's parties. You'd only had two drinks but that's all you needed to gain some liquid courage, going out to the dance floor.

You were feeling a bit loose, dancing with your friends. When the song changed from up tempo, to something a bit more slow and sensual, so did your dancing.

You were currently in between Leo and Sebastian, neither of them touching you in respect for their friend and your boyfriend, but that was as clean as it got.

Chase watched from afar as you rolled your body in between the two men, as if you weren't taken. He knew he couldn't openly say anything, in fear of someone noticing.

But the more he watched, the less amount of fucks he gave. Setting his drink down from the bar, Chase rudely abandoned a one sided conversation some lady was having with him, lying to her when he said "I'll be right back."

He stormed onto the dance area, stepping in between you and his friends. Grabbing your arm he flashes Leo and Seb a fake smile, "Mind if I borrow Y/N real quick?", not even giving them a chance to respond, he drags you out of the room.

"Chase! What're you doing, I was having fun!", you stop in the middle of the hall, upset that he took you away.

The man in question allows you to stop, knowing he could just pull you along if he wanted to, but decided against it.

"I didn't know acting like a slut in public was considered 'fun' nowadays.", he says with a glare.

Fed up with his attitude, you respond, "Yeah well, things have changed. It's called the 21st century, gramps."

You're quickly pushed against the wall in the hallway, where anyone could come and see you. Chase separates your legs with his knee, placing it on your core, his hand finding it's place on your neck.

"Y'know, I was gonna wait until we got to the room to fuck some sense into you, but maybe I should just do it right here. I bet you'd like that. For everyone to be able to see how much a whore you are."

You whine at his words, trying to grind down onto his thigh.

"I fuckin' knew it.", he laughs darkly, releasing your neck and stepping away from you, causing you to stumble from the wall. "Too bad I don't like sharing."

He makes his way to the elevator, leaving you to mindlessly trail behind him like a very horny puppy.

You thought for sure he'd make a move on you in the elevator, the short amount of privacy enough time for him to have you up against a wall, wet and begging, but he did nothing.

The elevator door opened and you wordlessly followed him to his room, he allowed you to walk in first, not even attempting to swat at your ass like he usually does.

Walking into the room, you turn when you hear the door close, fearful of your boyfriends sudden quietness. "Baby-"

"Quiet.", he cuts you off.

"But-"

"Sweetheart if I have to repeat myself, the night will be much worse for you than I already have planned."

His low tone and threatening words convince you to obey him, watching as he stops at your dresser, loosening his tie.

You have no choice but to stand there as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly, practically teasing you. His toned abs peek through and you feel your mouth start to salivate at the sight. Chase looks up and a dark chuckle escapes his mouth at the look on your face.

"See something you like?"

It's a rhetorical question because he knows how much you love his body, and he knows it's killing you to not touch him right now.

He strips down to his boxers, the room completely silent except for the pounding of your heartbeat. Chase walks over to the bed, getting himself comfortable with his hands behind his head, propping him up.

"Your turn." He tells you.

You quickly began to undress, and Chase tsks, "Slower. I want a show."

Obeying him you start to go a bit slower, feeling small under his intense stare.

Once you're completely stripped, he signals for you to come to him on the bed.

~~~

"Cmon baby, don't go dumb on me just yet."

Chase's request falls on deaf ears with you too focused on your impending orgasm. You'd lost count of how many you'd given him tonight, your brain too clouded to keep count of anything at the moment.

"Ohh, you're already there hm?"

Your partner uses his big hands, cradling your neck and face to get your attention on him. His hips continue to slap into yours, jolting you with every thrust.

He has your feet by your ears, body pressed to yours so closely that it's nearly intoxicating.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?", Chase taunted. He ghosts his lips over yours, teasing you even further.

You mumble out a "please" when he does it again, and Chase gives in.

He applies more pressure to your throat when he deepens the kiss, causing you to clench around him. He moans into your mouth, a whimper-like groan escaping him.

"You're mine, y'know that?" He asks and you nod.

“Yeah? But you don’t act like it.” Chase says bitterly

He’s referring to your little dance and you can tell just how mad it made him with the way his thrusts pick up.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry.” You plead with him.

“Aww now that’s sweet.” He chuckles out.

“I am!” You insure. “But, I can’t cum again. I just can’t.” You knew your safe words. If you truly wanted him to stop, he would.

“Maybe if you were good, I’d be more sympathetic but since you weren’t, I’m not stopping.”

[writtenjewels]

Maternity Ward part 5

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

“I know what you're doin',” Jason huffed, setting down the bag full of snacks. Penny turned her gaze away from the television to look at him, her expression amused.

“I'd hope so; you've been coachin' me through it for the past few hours.”

“Not this! You getting the doctor to go with me and buy snacks!”

“I was hungry,” Penny defended. She reached for the bag and started pulling out snacks. She didn't waste any time in tearing open a bag of chips and helping herself. Jason glared at her. Was she seriously going to play innocent? “You can have some, too,” Penny told him after swallowing down a few chips.

“Penn.” Jason growled her nickname through clenched teeth.

“What?” She licked the crumbs off her fingers.

“You know what! Don't make me fuckin' say it!”

“Will you fucking relax?” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “The fuck else was I supposed to do? It ain't like you were being subtle.” Jason's face went hot and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. He dropped into the bedside chair.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. Like he told Salim, Penny had known Jason since the day he was born. She probably picked up on something that clued him in. As hard as Jason was crushing on the doctor, he was confident he disguised it well enough.

“You're welcome,” Penny said cheerfully.

“Not like it matters,” he muttered.

“It won't hurt,” Penny argued, helping herself to more chips. “I don't think I've seen you like this. Not even when you were into what's-his-name in high school.”

Jason knew exactly who she meant. The last thing he wanted to do was be reminded of his pathetic high school crush on a cute, nerdy guy. One time he actually tripped over his own feet walking toward the guy. If this was even worse... Jesus Christ.

“I'm callin' Ben,” he decided.

“Why?” Penny frowned.

“'Cause if you're gonna mess in my love life, I'm messin' in yours.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number before Penny could say another word. He didn't even have to wait a full ring before Ben picked up.

“Hello?”

“Your girlfriend's in labor,” Jason announced. There was silence on the other end. “Ben? Hello?”

“Sorry, I'm here,” the other man responded. “I... what?”

“Penny's in labor,” Jason repeated. “We're in the hospital right now. You ain't missed much yet, but you'd better hurry.”

“Holy shit,” Ben breathed out. “Okay. I'm headed out right now. Tell Penny I love her and I'll be there soon.” He hung up, probably so he could call the airport and book a flight. Jason repeated the message to Penny.

“Thanks.” She blew out a breath. “At least he'll miss the shitty part.”

“Lucky him,” Jason teased. Penny responded by throwing a bag of chips at his head. At least he succeeded in turning the conversation away from him and Salim.

Though it sure didn't stop him from thinking about it. How Salim made him laugh with those stupid jokes, how comfortable and ease he felt around the man after only knowing him a few hours, the way they teased each other. He could feel heat spread down his neck.

Almost as if she knew he needed the distraction, Penny went into another contraction. Jason coached her through it, and for a while didn't think about his growing feelings for the handsome doctor.

[chaosgremlinmunson]

STWG prompt: Tuesday but make it gay

There's a clatter in the next room and Steve knows, he just knows, that if he goes to look it's going to be one of a few different things that could be happening. The first is that his kids, the gremlins they are, have infiltrated his home yet again and someone knocked something over again. The second is that Robin got that text she was hoping for from her crush and promptly fell off their couch, because that's something she apparently does often when flustered. Or, the third thing, is that Eddie is here. And Eddie is trying to be stealthy. And that's suspicious. So Steve sits for a moment staring at his door to see if he hears the kids or if he hears Robin scrambling to his room to throw herself on his bed and go on and on about what these texts mean, which of course he's going to be right there with her while she deciphers all of it. Instead he hears silence, and then another clatter and a soft, “Jesus H. Christ, get it together Munson.” As his notoriously loud roommate attempts to make his way past Steve's room undetected. And that, well that just won't do. Eddie had been gone for two weeks to the Appalachian mountains to see his uncle, he wasn't gonna slide by without at minimum a hello.

Steve stood and padded softly to his doorway, he leaned in the frame crossing arms pulling a move, he knew, but trying to look calm and amused as Eddie came around the corner before squeaking at seeing Steve looking straight at him.

“Heyyyyy, Stevieeee.” Eddie was fidgeting, a box in his hands. Ah, so that's what he'd been dropping as he tried and failed to sneak into the house. Now Steve was infinitely even more curious.

“Hey Eds. How was your trip?” Steve looked back up to Eddie's eyes, an easy smile on his face, “did anything interesting happen while you were up there?”

Eddie swallowed and looked down to the wrapped box in his arms, then back to Steve again. Without saying a word he sprinted to his room and closed the door leaving Steve standing there confused.

The next morning after Steve got back from his jog he came into the house to Robin and Eddie sipping their coffees.

“Stevie!! Happy Tuesgay!!!” She yelled, “best day of the week! You're helping me with my drag tonight, right? I need something to really capture Del’s attention.”

Steve grinned, “Obviously Bobbin, you have to help me fit into my Karma drag anyway. Y'know Eddie needs to see her in action.”

“Oh, that I do. I'll be going to Rosa’s after the show by the way, just a heads up.” She smiled knowingly at her best friend.

Later that night he helped Robin get into her leather pants, a mesh top, with tape pulling her breasts to look like pecs, hair teased into a Mohawk and facial hair painted on. She was edgy, hot, and Del was going to drool if she had any taste. In turn she helped him melt into his blood red sequined gown, the chest dipping down to his navel as his chest piece made his chest look full and voluptuous. He painted his lids dark, and his lips a full pouty vamp red to match, the last was the hair, teased to the gods. Eddie wasn't going to know what hit him, and the number he had in mind would at least capture his attention. Maybe if he was lucky Eddie would finally realize it was him he was pining for.

[zmediaoutlet]

happy ww, I am so glad you are back :)

I didnt have any unique qs except I was rereading the archivist a few days ago (as one does!!) and it got me thinking how in your fics and late season domesticity, they just...love & accept each other, as people. So. What are the activities that you think Sam/Dean have zero interest in individually but do it for each other? Esp post 15.19!

happy wincest wednesday-on-a-friday! <3 I'm partially back at least, haha. The things, they are Busy, but it's good to check in with the buds. :)

You know late-seasons domesticity is my jam! And people doing things they don't necessarily like but will bear for the sake of the beloved is my ultimate jam, or indeed preserves! My marmalade!

Leaving naughty options that have been discussed before to the side -- let's do a random hc for each --

Dean finds true crime weird as shitttt. Our lives our true crime, why are you consuming it as a hobby?? Sam starts out trying to claim that it's work-related, and also did you know that we got covered on this podcast when the serial killer Leviathan-- ? But then with the benefits of late-seasons casualness he just shrugs and says, what? I dig it. And so Dean does occasionally deign to let Sam play the podcast at full volume in the car on the long drive from Kansas to Augusta ME, and because he is who he is, he inevitably gets involved in the characters etc and wants to hear the next ep. But then he remembers that those are real people, with real tragedies, and gets an uncomfy little -- ick -- but Sam's focused and fascinated and Dean puts away the ick and goes, well. If the killer ever shows up again as a ghost or demon, the Winchesters will know ever single detail of how to handle it.

Sam suffers more than Christ for his brother-best-friend-husband, lol. Every day is another listen through of the Black Album or a stop at a diner that last passed a health inspection in 1979 or what Dean thinks passes for singing in the shower. But so what. All the benefits of being Dean's brother outweigh the horrors. (Most of the time.) One in the post 15.19 era that he truly just Does Not Like is Dean's obsession with trying to hit all the restaurants he can on the Diners Drive-ins and Dives list. I mean jesus christ -- not only were they often sketch greasebombs to start with, now that they're famous they're even worse, and crowded, and he does not want a triple-stack waffle-and-fried-chicken heart attack on a plate -- ! But Dean grins so big, and honestly, if anyone's earned cholesterol Sam guesses it's Dean. So he orders whatever's least gross on the menu and resigns himself to another afternoon of trying not to watch Dean eat. (But he will, after enough cajoling, take a bite of whatever the star thing is on the menu. Sometimes it's good.)

[ahiddenpath]

Digimon Adventure 02: The Beginning

I just got home from seeing the Japanese audio/English sub. This is not a review, and I doubt I'll feel the same way about it in a few days, because I'm all up in my emotions and I haven't had a think on it. So here is nothing more or less than my visceral, 100% subjective reaction.

Extreme spoilers beneath the cut, spoilin spoilin all day long. Also cussing and blaspheming, apparently I like to keep it classy.

My head is a boiling vat of pudding.

As the film ended, someone screamed, "Toei why you gotta do us like that?!" Someone else yelled, "Jesus Christ I did not need that in my life." As we filed out, another gem: "They had a digital god in this one, and they still didn't unfuck Kizuna." (That last one, I think, while funny, was not relevant. This wasn't about the older kids, they had their turn and several more, lmao).

Some notes:

-Genuinely I was not prepared for a horror. Or child abuse. I love horror games! I watch them nearly daily! Did you know I have only once been more upset/disturbed by a horror video game than I was by this movie?

Did people take their kids to this? Like, that seems totally reasonable to me, taking your kid to digimon!!! Jesus cHRISt!!!!

-I thought my bar of, "I want to see the 02 kids grown up and interacting," was so, so low. I thought my bar could not be lower. But this was Lui's story, not theirs. And this is Toei's story, not mine, so I have to accept that... They wrote what they wanted to. But yeah, the bar I thought was low was not cleared.

-SOMEONE HELP ME, Himekawa is older than Lui. Himekawa's group, they were the first Chosen. Right??? Does the time line not shake out here??? Himekawa was probably about 10/11 when she was Chosen, and she's a full ass adult in Tri??? So, like, I guess the question is, how much older is her group than Lui at age 4? Are they at least 6 years older???? But- God what age would that make- God damn let me get the chart. Shit, I'm lost. Help??????

Shit I liked:

-Lui's second birthday scene

Not the original scene where Lui meets Ukkomon. This is the second birthday, his 8th birthday, where they sit in a dark room full of presents and treats. Ukkomon mentions Lui's parents and friends. They enter the room and proceed to not say a single ducking word while Ukkomon and Lui talk and talk and talk, and it is the creepiest and most atmospheric shit I have seen. Holy shit!!!!

Obviously, the audience already knows shit is fucked up with Ukkomon, but at this point, ooooooooooooooooo baby that tension is HIGH.

-Power in the hands of children

Ukkomon is, like, seconds old when he meets Lui. Lui is 4 and extremely disenfranchised, even for a 4-year-old. Lui wishes for what he doesn't have. Ukkomon devotes his whole self to those wishes.

What happens when a 4 year old meets a baby genie? When that much power is in the hands of the innocent?

You don't want to know, trust me. Lowkey wish I didn't know!!! Christ on a bike!

As much as we love digimon and the Chosen and all of that, it's always been messed up how much power they have, and how much responsibility. It's so much pressure, it's so high stakes! It was really cool to see Toei explore how sideways all of this could go, literally at any moment.

-A few character moments

Honestly that part where a girl is chatting up Ken and Wormmon is visibly pissed is, like, my favorite thing in this movie. Oh! Also I loved seeing the international Chosen, that was so great. The gut scream of WALLACE/WILLIS in the theater when he appeared!!!!!!

Bonus:

My husband said he liked how there was a command center in Imperialdramon's head. I think that was actually some kind of... plane??? Made by Ukkomon??? I have no idea. You know, the place where Ken and Daisuke are accused of flirting.

Stuff I didn't like

-It was half flash back

I'm being a little harsh here, because stuff other than flashbacks happened in the first 46 minutes, but... I checked my phone after the final flashback (not counting Lui jumping into Ukkomon in the end). I was 46 minutes into a roughly 90 minute film. I'm not against flashbacks in principle, and I tend to like new characters, but... This just wasn't what I hoped for in a movie about the 02 kids. I accept that this is 100% subjective.

-It was too damned fucked up for my tastes

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus H Christ!!!!!

Okay, so first of all, I generally am of the opinion that a lot of recent media has substituted trauma for substance. It's easy to make an audience pity/relate to/feel protective of a character by showing them suffer.

Lui wetting himself was so disturbing for me- in children, that's often a sign of ongoing abuse. I could easily be reading into it, but that combined with the range of age of his bruises (and he had more fresh contusions, too, they start red and turn purple and brown and eventually a yellow green) hinted that this wasn't some one off occasion caused by a sudden spike of stress. That was Lui's life. And he really might have frozen to death that night, if not for Ukkomon.

In a way, if I'm right and not just reading into things, this scene was well done. But also, like... I just don't enjoy the substitution of trauma for gradually making us care about a character and understand what they've been through. It seems like some kind of heavy handed short cut, and it usually has the opposite effect on me- thrusting me out of the narrative and making me distrustful of it.

Or maybe I'm just distancing myself, because I genuinely get so upset.

And don't even get me started on the scene where Ukkomon dissolves. I was not ready for that shit. It was just too much for me, I'm sensitive, lmao!

-I'm not sure what I think of the Chosen reacting to Lui's story

I kind of felt like the Chosen were oddly hard on Lui? They weren't actually, in reality they encouraged him to find a resolution with Ukkomon and reminded him that relationships go two ways.

But, like. Could someone have, like... Idk I was really waiting for someone to cry or hug Lui or reassure him or something? Instead it was like, "Poor Ukkomon. He tried so hard and you relied on him too much!"

And my visceral reaction to that was, "UKKOMON KILLED AT LEAST ONE OF LUI'S PARENTS AND MADE THEM MEAT PUPPETS FOR YEARS, JESUS!!!! AND YOU WANT LUI TO GO SEE UKKOMON AGAIN?!?!?!?!?" Like, that whole thing was literally a nightmare??? But Ukkomon was an actual whole ass baby god, and then again, as my husband put it, "Ukkomon did what CPS wouldn't." Lui needed help, stat.

I'm gonna need some time to sort how I feel about this. I can say that, as I watched, I felt like the emotional tone was really off for the last half of the film. All I could think about was the horror, and any time someone criticized Lui, or even told him to go see Ukkomon, I was just like- MEAT. PUPPET!!!! MEAT!!! PUPPET!!!! (Did those kids that Ukkomon made Lui's friends also die?!?!?!). Literally, snow was falling and the Chosen were playing, and my head was like, MEAT. PUPPET!!!!

There's no walking back that emotion, at least not in a 40 some minute window. Not for me, personally. I'm probably going to have nightmares. If I knew going in that this was a horror, I'd be fine with that. But gdi I though I'd see my blorbos having good times mixed with a plot.

Instead, nightmares.

-Lui's final scene with his mother

Lui tells himself, "This time, when I go back in time... I won't rely on Ukkomon for everything" (paraphrasing). He sees his mother inside his memory of his 4th birthday. He says to her, roughly, "Lui loves you, please remember that."

And magically, the mom is kind to him that night.

Now, to be fair, even disastrous relationships can have good times. Maybe it would have been just that night that was better. But there was this feeling of, "Oh, if I just talked to my mother when I was 4 years old and horrifically abused, it would have been different."

That just isn't how that works. If I had to guess, the film is just supporting communication. But god, don't ever point back to the child victim like that. Too bad that 4 year old doesn't know how to communicate with his abusive caregiver! Things might have been different!!!!!

I'm sensitive to this kind of thing, so it's totally possible I'm fixating too much on this or blowing up the importance of this moment. But yeah, not a good emotional reaction to that.

In summary: this was not the film I wanted. In fact, it's a film that will stick on me like a burr, but like. In a bad way? But also it did have some killer ideas. Ukkomon has to be one of the most interesting things to hit Adventure in years. So much power in the hands of an innocent, so disastrous so very fast.

My brain is still pudding. Time for some nightmares. Good night, I hope the film didn't distress you if you saw it! And my sympathies if you took your children, the biggest of oofs (how could you have known??? You couldn't have).

[exblondecharm]

Star-Crossed Encounter

Kyle Broflovski x Y/N Oneshot (g/n reader)

Summary- A few days after y/n’s family moves to a remote town in Colorado, they set out to find their own space to escape reality for a while. When they try to replicate the scenario from their old town, a welcome stranger with red hair and green eyes shows just how similar the pair are to each other. 

CW- some cursing, nothing major

Word Count- 912

When your parents move around as frequently as yours did, you develop some weird coping mechanisms. Never feeling fully “at home” anywhere, you have to make a space for yourself everywhere you go that gives you the illusion of control that a home provides. For you, you could always rely and find solitude in an empty high school football field. The feeling of damp grass or turf under your head and stars in your eyes was the same from Maine to California. 

It’d been about a week since you had first stepped into this mountain town. Not the (seemingly) most exciting place you’ve been dragged to, but sometimes the unsuspecting places were the most enjoyable. You were particularly upset about this most recent move though, after spending the first three years of high school at your last residence, the longest your parents had stayed anywhere. Switching into a new school the first week of your senior year was not something you dreamed about. 

The night was chilly, the first fall breezes coming in, perfect for some big sweats and a blanket. At around 12:30 you decided there would be no better time than now to go see what would become your place to think for the foreseeable future. Climbing out the window and making the walk to your school felt so familiar it was the first time you smiled in a week. A hop over the fence, and stroll to the midfield later, you were so busy looking around the bleachers and sidelines you had missed the figure laying there already. Until you tripped over him. 

“Jesus fucking christ! Are you okay?” A lanky kid with a huge mop of curls sat up and turned to face you.

“Yeah I’m alright, are you?”

“Yeah, I think you took more damage than I did,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m Kyle by the way. You’re new here, right?”

“Word travels fast here, I’m y/n,” 

“Well we don’t see new faces here that often, and I think we had like four classes together. I’d have to be pretty stupid to not notice after that.” He was beginning to flush across his freckled face. 

“Well I’m sorry about officially meeting like this Kyle, I swear I’m typically much more graceful when I break into public property in the middle of the night.” You got up onto your knees, starting to leave so not as to disturb the boy any longer. “Enjoy the rest of your night, dude.”

“Oh please don’t think you have to leave because I’m here, there’s plenty of room. And I mean who am I to deny another weirdo of their nighttime football field stargazing time.” 

He got you to fully smile with that, so far the only person in this town able to do that. “Well if you insist. At least let me share my blanket with you then, you must be freezing!”

He grinned, his blush deepening, “If you say so,” You both got yourselves comfortable and wrapped up. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you out here?”

You explained your story to him, losing track of how long you were talking, and how open you were to sharing your history with a total stranger. Maybe it was because the moonlight made his curls so shiny and bright red, or maybe it was the intense look in his eyes, as he held onto every word you said. 

He also found himself talking more and more, opening up to you as well, although he was definitely less surprised by his openness. The second you walked into class that Monday he instantly clocked you. The fullness of your cheeks. The way your hair tucked behind your ear. The way your eyebrows pulled in when you were annoyed. He was smitten. It was refreshing for him to hear how like-minded you were, not to mention hilariously witty, and enough to give him a run for his money when it came to intelligence. 

When the conversation lulled, with you both staring into the heavens and its constellations, more than two hours had passed since you climbed from your window. Neither of you seemed to mind enough to get up. 

When the sun began to rise, some more hours later still, Kyle awoke to find your head and arm wrapped around his chest. “Hey, um, y/n?” He gently stroked your hair out of your face. 

You slowly began to stir, and apologized profusely when you noticed the positioning you were in. 

“Don’t worry about it, we’re just lucky I woke up in time so that we can both get home before our parents notice we’re out.” 

“Thank you Kyle, you’re my savior,” you laughed out, meeting his eyes. You both stayed there for a minute, just looking into eachothers eyes.It was only broken when a rare moment of confidence sparked in Kyle. Before he realized what he was doing, he was leaning closer to your face, eyes fluttering shut, pausing an inch before you.

You tilted your head up, closing the gap between you. Again you sat for a minute, unbroken.

After what felt like a million years had passed you pulled away, both of you blushing now this time. “HowaboutIgetyournumberandgiveyouaridehome!” He squeaked out, the momentary confidence evaporated. 

“What?”

“How about I get your number and give you a ride home?” He said much more slowly, coherently, and sweaty. 

“I’d really like that a lot.”

[rian-lindley]

Rian had never loved when her husband left for a job. Whenever he was gone her head and heart were filled with worry and longing. While she has still yet to master not pouting upon his departure, Rian had managed to find various ways to fill her time and busy her mind until Guy came home. With him telling her it would be at least a few more days, she decided some pampering was in order.

The next morning she drove into Boston. Stopped and ate breakfast at her favorite diner, sure to take a picture of her bacon and texting it to Guy. Her next stop was to get her nails done, falling into a food coma during her pedicure. She spent the next several hours at the spa, getting treatments and massages until her skin was glowing and her limbs felt like spaghetti. She ate lunch on the go, grabbing a salad and bringing it to the dry bar to eat while she got her hair blown out.

The rest of Rian’s afternoon was spent roaming the city streets, shopping and sightseeing, but mostly shopping. Having lost track of time, her only indicator of how late it had gotten was that by the time she walked out of the last store, it was dark outside. Being a New York City native, navigating Boston had become primarily her husband’s job, since he did most of, if not all, the driving. With the added veil of night, Rian went from directionally challenged to completely inept.

After wandering around for ages, she found what she thought to be the parking garage she had parked in. She skipped the elevator, remembering it being busted when she had arrived, and took the two flights of stairs up to the third floor. Rian thought she heard a second set of footsteps but the parking lot wasn’t that full. Surely it was just the echo of her own sounding off the concrete. She rounded the corner, expecting to see her car a few feet ahead of her but instead, she came face to face with the pavement.

Blood immediately exploded from her nose and pain radiated through her face. For a split second, she thought she had tripped until she felt the kick in her ribs. A yelp of pain escaped her at this impact. Rian tried to push herself up to her hands and knees to crawl away but another blow came to her stomach before she could even steady herself. This time, the wind was knocked out of her and she rolled to her back. She was looking up at the face of her attacker. Bold, to remain unmasked, she thought to herself. Until his fist collided with her already bloodied face. Then all she saw was blackness.

—-

Rian woke up hours later in a hospital bed. Her entire body felt like one big bruise. She brought her hand, which was now the home to an IV, to her face and felt the gauze that was covering it. She sighed and it made her wince in pain. A nurse popped her head in the door and smiled softly. “You’re awake!” Her voice was cheerful and if it wouldn’t have hurt, Rian probably would have glared at her. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Unfortunately.” Rian replied, her voice was hoarse and it hurt to even speak so she didn’t say anything more.

“The officers have been waiting to speak to you, do you mind if they come in?”

Rian nodded her head and soon the nurse’s cheerful demeanor would have been welcomed. The two Boston PD officers who walked in wore solemn expressions.

“Mrs. Lindley, sorry to have to meet you under these conditions. We have a few questions for you. By the time you were found, your attacker was long gone. Do you remember what they looked like? Anything odd about the scene? What were you doing in that parking lot? Do you have any known enemies?”

“Getting in my car, obviously?” Rian said, confused.

“Ma’am, we located your vehicle about three blocks over.” The other officer chimed in and looked at her suspiciously, as if she were lying. This time Rian glared through the pain.

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell my husband that. Okay, I thought I was getting in my car. He was tall, somewhere around six feet. Maybe a little taller. White guy, thirties maybe? Standard build, maybe a little more on the toned side. I wasn’t really checking him out. Strong. Obviously. His hair was dark but short, almost shaved and he had some stubble. I didn’t catch his eye color. Sorry. He was following me, I don’t know how long, I just remember hearing footsteps on the stairs with me.”

The suspicious cop nodded, his expression was impressed now and Rian took note.

“I listen to a lot of True Crime podcasts.” She explained. “This is my first time being one, though. As for enemies…not really?”

“All of your shopping bags and purse were left at the scene. Phone, wallet, your jewelry. We think you were specifically targeted so if you think of anything, let us know. We left our card with the nurse. We’re waiting on some footage from the parking garage security camera and we might have some follow up questions after that. Rest up and have a good night, ma’am.”

The officers gave a curt nod before exiting the room. As Rian watched them leave, it dawned on her that her phone was likely in evidence for now. Thankful again for her morbid obsession, she had her husband’s cell phone number memorized. Reaching for the hospital phone, she dialed the number and hoped he would answer the unknown caller.

“Hello?” A sigh of relief escaped her at the sound of her husband's voice, albeit confused. “Rian?” He asked simply at the sound of her breathing, his tone now concerned.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t be mad…”

[regular-lord-reckoner]

well, my time off from work is coming to a close, sadly. it always goes by way too fast.

especially because this time it seems like i spent a lot of it doing stuff, like running errands and cleaning.

i took our dog to get his hair cut on tuesday and he was a real good boy the whole time. i bought him a toy for being such a trooper.

on wednesday my mom left for a work trip which she's still on but she'll be back tomorrow. she made it safely and says it's been a peaceful time so i'm glad, she deserves a break.

i spent most of wednesday running errands (mostly looking for a specific hair dye that i went to TWO sallys for and neither had it so i had to order it online but i think this time it's really gonna come out exactly how i want so fingers crossed !!; i also procured some snacks !!)

thursday i decided to do something i've wanted to for a long while and mom said i could if i wanted but she doesn't know so this will be a surprise for her when she gets back, but !!

i woke up early and got to work cleaning out the pantry and the fridge as well as our old fridge which we put on the back porch for extra storage

i knew i only had so much time because the dump closes at 5 and i really wanted to get all the frozen stuff out and be done with it rather than deal with it the next day because i guess if push comes to shove i could drive my dad's truck, but i'm more comfortable using my car and it was already a stink fest in there just doing what i was doing, so...yeah (also thank god for febreeze, jesus christ)

anyway, i uh....i guess i did some grief cleaning because it's almost like you could tell as i was pulling everything out and throwing it all away that it went to hell about the time my dad got sick

a lot of what i threw away was his food, but it's over a year old so it really needs to go, neither mom or i are eating it and it's just going bad, but goddammit it was hard.

throwing away all the prepared meals my mom made for him so we'd have something quick to warm up for him because when he'd get hungry he didn't really wanna wait, it was almost like a wave and he'd only take a few bites and then be done so it was great to have stuff we could put back up. we also just had plenty of his favorites on board like pudding cups, cereals (cap'n crunch the peanut butter kind, frosted wheats, cheerios), peanut butter crackers, fruit cups, graham crackers and peanut butter (are you sensing a theme? lol) and of course...little debbie snack cakes.

not all of what i ended up throwing out was his, a lot of it was mom's and some of it mine as well, but in total i took off 16 bags of trash.

it took me three trips to the dump and a bucket of sweat to do it, but i did it !!!! i almost threw up like three different times, cried a few different times (specifically when i had to dump out the last ice cream he ever had; it was butter pecan and he only took about three or four bites of it but god did he enjoy every bite) and i had to pretty much blow through my lunch because i literally made it with 10 minutes to spare before the dump closed by the time i was dropping the last two bags off, but it's done !!!!!!!!!

i cannot tell you how nice it is now to not have to play jenga every time i want to get something out of the pantry or the fridge, like...jesus christ

it was at the point where every time i'd grab something, even a package of tea or a can of soup it'd cause an avalanche and i'd already pulled out a bunch of stuff from the pantry floor a while ago, but i didn't do the full thing so i thought, fuck it, i have the house to myself, i can blast through this in one day and my mind can rest easy for the rest of the time and goddammit i was right !!

did i do a perfect job ?? no, i did not. i know i didn't get everything, but i'm going to leave some of it up to my mom to decide. my goal was to at least take one thing off her plate since i know that's something that's too overwhelming to even think about and given that it took me a full work day to do it....yeah, i get it.

i think i started around 8:30 and to be fair some of that time was also me cleaning my bathroom as i went and cleaning spills and messes as i went (i also got covered in.....so much garbage juice), but by the time i finally got home and was done it was a little after 5 so yeah !!

i dunked myself in the pool, ordered some food (i got the world's biggest goddamn black bean burgey and i inhaled every bite; i''ll post a picture of it at the end) and then i took a shower and settled in for the night and my god did i sleep solidly that night, i don't think i moved an inch

i was also........exhausted yesterday because of that, just properly, properly worn the hell out, but !!! i had to go to the pharmacy to get my medicine so i went to pick that up and while i was out i also swung by walgreens to see about getting a covid booster. they told me to check back sometime next month because that's when they'd be getting them in so i'll definitely be stopping in when that's available

i also had to get some proper groceries instead of just snacks so i picked some up as well as some food and headed back home to relax

today's been pretty much the same, i had to run out again because i forgot a few things and they were giving out free ice cream at publix so i got some free ice cream :3

they were really nice there, too, the person who took my order said my hair was really neat (i don't know if i've posted it on here, but it's green on top and blue towards the bottom; every time i wash it it looks different but whenever i dye it again i'll do a before and after). i also thanked them for being out there and they were like, "well, we're getting paid," and i said i know, but it's hot out here so i appreciate it and we wished each other a nice day and i scooted off to a secluded spot to enjoy some moose tracks and then headed off to my next stop which was waffle house.

i decided for lunch today and breakfast tomorrow i'd get a to go order of some of my favorites and the person taking my order was so sweet, i ordered a hash brown bowl with no meat, smothered and covered and they were like, "you know, if i double everything it'll actually be cheaper" and went on to explain and all i heard was more hashbrowns, more cheese and more onions so i said let's do that !!

i also got a chocolate chip waffle for the morning and i've got everything i need to make chai as well so that'll be my breakfast :3

tomorrow's going to be another rough one, it's my dad's birthday. second one since he's been gone. he would have been 78. that's wild to think about.

i got the waffle house because it reminds me of him so much. we used to go there so many times, all throughout my life and whether it was us as a family or just me and him it was always nice to sit down somewhere and both of us enjoy a comforting meal together.

he'd usually get the patty melt and liked his bacon well done ("burn it!" he'd always say) and he'd get a black coffee, no cream or sugar and always take his time eating and would tell me to enjoy my food as well.

i usually get hashbrowns (smothered and covered, of course) and sometimes if i'm feeling fancy a side of cheese grits, but here lately they've got this bowl that has the hashbrowns i like but it also comes with egg !! and i usually get an orange juice to go with it

the best part would be whenever my dad would give me some quarters and tell me to go play something on the jukebox and no matter what i chose he'd always nod his head and smile, bop his head along to the song

sometimes he'd get up and play some of his favorite songs (he was a country guy, but he liked the old stuff so any johnny cash or waylon jennings type of thing, but really he'd listen to it all)

he'd always pay and would tip well and we'd be on our way and now it's just forever linked in my mind being there and spending time with him.

it's kinda funny, too, because the one closest to our house actually got torn down not long after he died and i remember because i drove past it like, "i can't have SHIT in this house !!!!" but !!! my mom reminded me that he actually had stopped going to that one because he said it wasn't as good anymore so i almost wonder if he was like, "okay, let's do it again right this time !!" because now they're rebuilding it and i shit you not, it's about to be done right here around his birthday, like the lights are on in that bitch and i've seen employees outside smoking cigarettes, this ship is about it set sail !!!

oh and !! i think they're about to unionize ?? i saw a video about it the other day and one of their demands was security and when i was in there there was a lady that was in there with a shirt on that said "waffle house security" so !! that's neat. and good for them, goddamn. i know it's kind of a meme at this point, but that place really does stay open during goddamn everything and has seen and put up with goddamn everything so hat's off to the employees there, i hope they get everything they want and then some !!

anyway, enough of me rambling about the goddamn house made of waffles, but point is..................i have done a lot of work up until this point and now i'm going to settle in for the night, here in a few minutes i'm going to put our pupper to bed and then i'm going to have an absolute feast on some of the leftovers from yesterday and then probably stay up way later than i should doing whatever the fuck i feel like doing and tomorrow i'm just going to take it nice and easy and think about my dad a lot

i don't have anywhere i need to go, i've run all my errands, i'll probably be doing just a little more picking up and minor cleaning tonight so that in the morning and tomorrow i don't have to do a damn thing except take care of myself and the critters and my mom will be home at some point so we'll spend some time together in a nice clean house

oh, and !! yesterday i also tried my hand at making our dog's homemade food. (yes, he gets special food because he's a special boy and we love him very much)

my mom looked up a recipe for his breed and checked to make sure all the ingredients are doggo safe but it's mostly some type of meat (this time i used ground turkey but i think last time she used chicken), brown rice and vegetables like spinach, green beans, sweet potato, peas and carrots.

you throw all that in the crockpot with some unsalted chicken broth and a little bit of water and cook it for a few hours, stirring every few hours and bada boom, you've got enough food to fill up five containers that used to hold egg drop soup from a Chinese restaurant my mom likes. i think he liked it, too !! ( the food i made him, not the egg drop soup...)

but yeah, i think tomorrow's going to be okay. i'm sure i'll probably cry, i'm sure i'm going to miss him like hell, but i've also put in a lot of work to make this place really nice for all of us and i'm trying to pour as much good energy into this space as i possibly can so i'm going to get back to doing that and take it easy for the rest of my little vacation.

i hope if you're reading this you're doing well and also trying to take it easy. shit is....rough so you deserve a break and a little treat. be good to yourself if you can. love you <3

P.S.: LOOK AT THIS BLACK BEAN BURGER

also my free ice cream (with a color changing spoon !!)

:3

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by J.R. Miller

"When therefore Jesus had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished; and having bowed his head, he delivered up his spirit." – John 19:30

The three hours of darkness was ending. The light was breaking. The Scripture tells us that Jesus then cried out in a loud, strong voice. It was not the cry of exhaustion and faintness; it was the shout of a victor. The cross seemed like defeat. Those who understood nothing of the meaning of the life and death of Christ, would think of Him as a man who had failed, all of whose dreams and hopes had perished. But we who understand something at least of the meaning of His mission and of the great purpose of His life, know that nothing failed. “It is finished,” was the shout of a victor in the hour of His glorious success. It told of the completion of His work. All had been accomplished that He set out to do. His work was done. He had nothing more to do. There was no reason why He should live an hour longer, for the last task had now been done. A little while before, He said in His prayer in the upper room, “I have glorified you on the earth: I have finished the work which you gave me to do.” When He said in dying, “It is finished!” He meant that there was nothing whatever left now for Him to do.

His friends did not think so. They thought His work was only beginning. He was but thirty-three years old, and at thirty-three we regard life as no more than just begun. He had been only three years in His public ministry. Think, too, what years these had been, how full of blessing to those whom He had touched with His life. We can imagine Joseph and Nicodemus as they reverently took His body down from the cross and prepared it for burial, lamenting His early death, talking of what He might have done if only He had been spared longer. His disciples, too, in their anguish and their loss would speak together of the terrible bereavement they had suffered. He had just begun to live. He had gone about through the towns and villages, doing good for three years, healing, comforting, helping, blessing. What would fifty years of such ministry have meant to the world!

We talk the same way of our human friends who are taken away in early years. Their lives were full of promise. They had just begun to do beautiful things. They had shown a little of the power that was in them, to be a strength to others, to be a comfort to those who were in sorrow, to be inspirers of noble things. Our dreams for them were just beginning to be realized. Then, suddenly, they slipped away and all was ended. We say that they could not be spared, that the world needed them longer. Over their graves we set up the broken shaft, symbol of incompleteness. It is a great comfort, then, to remember that life is not counted by the number of its years but by what it puts into the years, few or many, that are lived.

We live in thoughts not breaths. We live in deeds not years.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, and acts the best.

A millionaire recently, when dying, sent for a clergyman and said to him, “Doctor, I have failed, for I have groveled .” He had not lived dishonestly; he had not made his money by unjust treatment of others, by the oppression of the poor, or in any way that men called wrong. Men said he had lived well. He had failed, according to his own thought, because he had groveled, lived as if he were a worm. Eighty years of such life, with God and heaven and love left out, however stupendous the earthly success, will not count so much in eternity as much as one day of self-denying life of love, such as Jesus lived. Jesus, dying at thirty-three, had lived longer than any man who had reached fourscore years of selfishness, of groveling, of fame-seeking. When a friend dies early, with only a few years of life but with those years filled with usefulness, helpfulness, unselfishness, and faithful doing of duty do not say he had not done his work.

Another comforting truth started by the dying words of Jesus, is that God allots to us our work, little or much, and the time in which it must be done. Jesus spoke often of His hour. Again and again we read that His hour had not yet come, meaning the hour when His work would be finished, His earthly life ended. “His hour was not yet come.” Then, at last, He said His hour had come. The time of His death was not accidental. Then He spoke also of His work as what His Father had given Him to do. It was not a haphazard matter how much work He should do, or what particular work it should be. It was all given Him by His Father. When He said in His last moments, “It is finished!” He meant that everything He had come into the world to do, all that the Father had given Him to do He had done, and that now He had only to yield up His life into the hands of Him who gave it.

What was true of Him is true also of us. There is an appointed time to man on earth, and each one has his mission, his work to do. Whether it is a brief time or many years, it matters not; our only care should be to do what has been given us to do, and to fill our appointed days, short or long, with duty well done. We need not fret, then, if our time is short, if we have only a few years given us to work. Faithfulness while the day lasts is all that we need to concern ourselves with. The things we wanted to do and longed to do but could not do, were not part of our work at all; they belonged to some other one coming after us.

“It is finished!” He meant fully accomplished, done perfectly. Not a word was unspoken which it was His to speak. Nothing, however small, was left undone which the Father had given Him to do. This never can be true of us. We do nothing perfectly. Our best work is marred and flawed by imperfections. We get the white pages from God day by day and return them blotted and stained. Our lives are full of blanks, neglects, duties not performed, things left undone which we ought to have done. But all Christ’s work was complete. He never omitted a kindness that was His to do, never passed by on the other side, to escape doing a service of love. We are never quite sure of the purity of our motives, even for the most sacred and worthy deeds we do. “Who of you convicts Me of sin?” Jesus could say as He looked into men’s faces. But can we always say it? Why do we do our good things, our holy things? Is it really from love to God, and so for love to men, or is it sometimes from desire for praise? Everything in our lives is flecked and imperfect. We have to ask divine forgiveness on our best acts and words and thoughts.

But when Jesus said, “It is finished!” He looked back upon a life work without a flaw, without an omission, without the slightest failure in thought or motive or deed. His life was brought under most searching light by the rulers in their eagerness to find something to accuse Him of when they sought justification for crucifying Him. But with all efforts to find a flaw, in the blaze of the most dazzling light they found nothing! Herod sent Him back to Pilate with the testimony that he had found no fault in Him. Pilate declared the same of Him when he had examined Him. Then we have the witness of the Father, as He looked down upon Him and said out of the clouds of glory, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Christ’s work was not merely ended when He bowed His head on the cross and said, “It is finished!” it was completed. His life was perfect.

“It is finished!” In a sense nothing He had done was finished; all His work was only begun. Luke spoke of the treatise he had made as narrating only “all that Jesus began both to do and to teach.” All would go on forever. This is true of everything we ourselves do. They tell us that every word spoken into the air goes quivering on through time forever; that if you throw a pebble into the sea it starts wavelets which will ripple on and on until they break on every shore. Thus it is with every word we speak, with everything we do, with every influence that goes forth from our lives. We are starting things each day which will continue into eternity. Nothing we do is ever finished. We cannot know the end of any act, of any word.

The same was true of the life and work of Christ. He only began the world’s redemption. He ever lives at God’s right hand, interceding for His church, blessing and saving man. His life seemed a failure the day He said this word. He had made but a slight impression upon the great world. He had gathered only a few friends, and they were men of no distinction, of no power or rank among men. He had been teaching for three years, speaking words of divine wisdom but they had not been written down, and seemed now to be utterly lost. There were thousands of beginnings of blessing but they were only merest beginnings, like seeds dropped into the soil.

We know what Christianity is today. The words Jesus spoke, which seemed altogether lost the day He died, have been filling the world with their blessings. The influence of His life, which then had touched only a few lowly lives, has since touched nations and generations, and has changed all the world, has transformed millions of lives, and is bringing the nations up out of heathenism into holiness and happiness! The beginnings of the first Good Friday, have developed into a glorious kingdom of light and love!

“It is finished!” When Jesus said this, He had reached the end of His sufferings. All His life He had been a sufferer. He came into the world to redeem the world, by pain and suffering. He was the Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. Perhaps we are in danger these days of losing sight of the place of the wounding of Christ in the redemption of the world. In G. Campbell Morgan’s book, ‘The Crises of the Christ,’ there is a chapter called “The Wounded God.” The title is startling. Dr. Morgan reminds us that it is impossible to omit from the ascended and reigning One, the wounds He bears. They are part of His personality. In glory He appears as a lamb that has been slain. He was our suffering Savior .

You remember how vividly this is pictured even in the Old Testament. He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities. When He said, “It is finished!” He had just passed through the three awful hours of darkness. What took place in His experience during those hours no mortal can ever know. We know only this, that in the mysterious depths of those hours, human redemption was accomplished. It was then, that He redeemed us from the curse of the law by being made a curse for us. It was then that He who knew no sin was made sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.

As we hear His word of relief, “It is finished!” we know that the work of redeeming love had been accomplished. The infinite meaning of the sufferings He endured in those hours we cannot fathom; earth has no line long enough to sound those holy depths ; but we know that out of what was done on Calvary those hours come all the hopes of our lives. Every one of us had a share in those pains of His. In some mysterious way our sins were imputed to Him, part of the awful blackness that obscured the sun, and also for a time hid the Father’s face from the holy Sufferer. In some way, what took place there set us free from the curse of sin.

“It is finished!” was the first announcement of the completion of redemption. It was the first proclamation of the gospel after the price had been paid. The Redeemer Himself made the announcement. Let us hear it today. Redemption is finished. We can be sure of eternal life if we receive this Savior as our Savior. There was nothing left undone in those hours, that needed to be done to open the way for us to God, to put away sin, to provide eternal salvation for everyone who will accept it.

“It is finished!” Think of the words a moment as words that we ourselves must speak, each of us. We are always finishing something. One by one duties come to us, and we must finish them quickly and leave them. How are we finishing them? Are we doing them as well as we can, or negligently? One by one the days come to us, white and beautiful, from God. What are we doing with them? What are we writing on the fair pages? One by one, in quick succession, opportunities come to us, opportunities to be kind, to be patient, to be forgiving, to help others, to honor Christ, to witness for Him, to plant a seed of truth in a heart and we must meet them promptly, for a moment later they will be gone. What are we doing with our opportunities?

We are finishing a hundred things every day. What are we finishing? How are we finishing the things we do? Soon we shall come to the end of all our living, doing our last task, saying our last word. When we come to the end of all our living and doing what will be finished? What will we leave behind? Will it be something that will make the world forever better, purer, holier? When you and I say, “It is finished,” what will be finished?

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion Jesus Is The Foundation Of The Church & Blessed Are Her Gates

#DailyDevotion Jesus Is The Foundation Of The Church & Blessed Are Her Gates Psalm 87 His foundation is on holy mountains. 2The LORD loves Zion's gates more than all of Jacob's dwellings. 3Wonderful things are told about you, O city of God! The psalmist is praising the city of Jerusalem. Upon these holy mountains the LORD had met with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. There, where Abraham was willing to sacrifice the child of promise the LORD has built His temple. There on those mountains the Father sacrifices His only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ for the sin of the world providing salvation for every human being and redeeming all creation. But the city in which the LORD performed all these things is only a shadow, a model of the Jerusalem which is above, God's holy Church. Her foundations are not just rocks but the Rock, our LORD Jesus Christ. The gates of this city are loved more than all the places where Jacob dwells because this is where He gathers His people. It is the city He has built and won by the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Wonderful things are told of this city, the New Jerusalem as we see in the last chapters of Revelation. No light of the sun or moon is needed because God is her light. The gates are always open because there are no threats to her. A stream runs through it which waters the tree of life whose leaves are for the healing of the nations and it bears fruit every month. There we meet our God. 4“I will count Egypt and Babylon among those who acknowledge Me. There is Philistia, Tyre, and Ethiopia — each one claims that he was born there.” Egypt or Rahab and Babylon and all the nations acknowledge the LORD. The He that is born there is not the nations, but the Promised One, our LORD Jesus Christ. There on the hills outside of Jerusalem is Bethlehem where Christ was born. There in Jerusalem where Christ was crucified was Jesus made the first-born of the dead. Isaiah would prophesy that the nations would stream to her, i.e. the Church and indeed they have. The Church is the city they all acknowledge as the dwelling place of the LORD. 5But it will be said of Zion, “Every nation is born in her, and the Most High Himself will make her secure.” 6The LORD will write down in His record of the nations: "This one was born there.” 7There will be singing and dancing, for all will find their home in you. Several translations translate verse five this way, The DRB and a few others translate it more literally, “Shall not Sion say: This man and that man is born in her? and the Highest himself hath founded her.” The literal translation is better I think. Some think the psalmist is thinking of various men of valor born there. But if we are looking at the Church as Zion, are we all not born in her through the waters of baptism. So we are written down in the Lamb's book of life, or at least we know we have been written in the Lamb's book of life when we are baptized into Christ. In all the nations of the world, the LORD is making children for Himself and a nation for Himself in Zion, the city of our God, the Church. Here in the Church there will be singing and dancing on the Day of the LORD as we are all born out of our graves and ushered into the New Jerusalem, the City of our God. As it is written, like calves springing from the stall shall we be coming out of our graves with rejoicing. Heavenly Father, continual to give new birth in Your Holy City, Jerusalem, Your Church, through the waters of baptism that we might praise You even as we Your people are being praised by You. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[lunaremy]

I like to head cannon that sometimes white Works a little bit too much to the point his siblings have to force him to rest.

Might as well be canon! There's no way he wouldn't suffer from such exhaustion with the heroic lifestyle he leads. At least some of his siblings are mostly competent. (the visual image of White lying face-down in the bathtub is so funny to me. like hes fine in there but he looks like a roach)

"White! Come make lunch with me!!"

"Big Bro, come check this out!"

"White!! I want yakiniku for dinner!!"

White! White! White! White!

Is what he overheard from outside the walls of his room.

Really! He never caught a break. For the past few days White had been wrapped up in a mountain of business reports and the like regarding some incident in Ground Zero. As if the incident itself wasn't enough - some kind of stressful accident that was quickly quelled - he still had to deal with the mountains of incident reports and the like that came afterwards.

Shouldn't this be the job of the police?

Of course, he asked in vain. The police do half the work.

If White truly had to do absolutely everything, he might just keel over.

Truly.

White slammed his pen down on the table.

As if he doesn't already do everything!

He stood up-

And felt his vision blur for a moment.

When was the last time he'd actually slept?

Sure, bombermen need less sleep than organics overall, but...

They still need sleep.

White realizes by now that he's been standing in place for a while, but he doesn't move.

As far as he's concerned, he hasn't slept since the day of the mission.

So...about 3 days?

He's just hindering himself at this point! Bombermen need sleep to make room for new data. He needs that new data space to get the work done faster, but if he sleeps, he'll miss some of the deadlines on the paperwork.

Such a dilemma.

Welp, time to fetch the coffee chips-

(Knock, Knock)

"What is it?" White finds himself asking with a little too much force.

The door slides open, and Pink is on the other side

"We were wondering where you were-" She pauses.

"Hey, White? You doing alright?"

White blinked.

His battery was on full charge, but he desperately needed to clear out his memory so he could focus.

A body is useless without it's mind.

And apparently the two are intertwined, as Pink could visibly see his exhaustion after just a slight glance.

"I'm......"

White sighs.

"So exhausted, to be honest."

"Yeah. I haven't seen you take a break once this week!"

White sighed and relaxed his eyes.

"White? What's got you stressed like that?"

"Some paperwork and junk."

"Oh yeahhh. Now that I think of it, Red did use a lot of bombs back then, huh..."

White audibly sighed again.

Yeah. That's why he has mandatory training this week.

Supervised by White, of course.

Of course.

Another thing for him to do.

"Y'know, I can fill it out for you."

"It's legal junk," White mumbles, mind immediately relaxing into mush the moment the mere idea of a break was brought up.

"Actually, no. I will fill it out for you, because you kinda look like a mess right now."

She's a little blunt with it, but she's not wrong. White watches as Pink marches towards his desk, picking up the pen and getting to work on the pile of paperwork.

"Sorry for hogging your room, by the way." She doesn't break focus, and does her job with ease. Truly the work of a person who has their shit together.

"Whuhbjmbg," White says something before he leaves.

Relax.

His siblings don't really bother him all that much as he walks throughout the house- he makes his way to the washroom and before long he has himself a relaxing bath.

It's not a bad place to wind down. Especially since Pink's busy with his room at the moment. Better than the couch, at least...especially since Blue's not gonna share his favorite napping spot.

The water is like his sore body a blessing to a peasant, and he turns the spout off as the water approaches the top of the bathtub.

Jesus christ...someone actually helped me.

White feels his thoughts slow.

It would be irresponsible to resist this relaxation; the kind that he rarely gets.

And, being a robotic lifeform, he won't exactly drown if his head is submerged in water, so there's no harm in falling asleep in the bath the way Blue used to do. Hell, he might understand why Blue always did that now.

And understand Blue he did.

[adultswim2021]

The Rising Son #1: “Pilot” | April 19, 2009 - 5:00AM | S01E01

Did I watch this show when it aired? Well, not literally. I didn’t stay up until 5AM just to watch it live. I’m not sure anyone, aside from maybe the parents of one of the actors in the show, ever actually did that. But, I was an Adult Swim obsessive who looked at the schedule every week to look for premieres and I noticed it. This was likely also during my phase of recording every full block on my TiVo so I could scan through it for anything that caught my interest and save it to a DVD-R. Those DVD-Rs, man. I’ve been saying it, but I really need to rescue those from their storage unit purgatory and copy them onto my computer. Anyway, I was one of the very few people who noticed this show and actually watched it in 2009!

The Rising Son was a parodic soap opera about the life of Jesus Christ. This first episode sorta focuses on Joseph and Mary, discussing their son Jesus. They have to break some big news to him about who his real father is, but can’t bring themselves to do it yet. We meet Mary and Magdalene, who stand in for Christianity’s (I’m not saying “the real” because all this shit is fake and gay) Mary Magdalene. In this show, she’s a pair of conjoined twins. This show Charles and Mambo’d the bitch. 

It’s very dry in its sense of humor. It’s playing everything fairly straight. There are a few moments where the UCB-ness shines through. I didn’t really look these people up too much; only a couple of them have actual headshots on IMDB and those are the ones that seem to have somewhat robust filmographies, so I don’t mean to accuse these people of being affiliated with UCB. I just say that to describe certain moments.

The cockney accent when Mary/Magdalene offers foot rubs is one such moment. A lot of the jokes in the “next week on” segment at the end  (Jesus ridding the cat of feline AIDs, and whimpering that the “bad man” “touched” him). But the rest of the show is dry as a bone, and I sorta respect it. I wanted to like this. I watched all 325 episodes of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, which more-or-less does the same thing. I remember looking forward to episode two, even!

The episode’s funniest moment is Jesus’s introduction. Mary/Magdalene spot Jesus and call him over. We see a very traditional-looking Jesus talking to a large man with curly, long hair. The large man turns around; this is our actual Jesus. He and Judas introduce themselves to each other and both of their last names are bleeped. Also, certain onscreen credits have black bars covering some of the names.

Turner Broadcast standards and practices at the time were very much against using the lord’s name in vain on television. It sunk Don Hertzfeld’s Rejected from being shown in the early days of the block, and it was the subject of an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. In this context, it was probably seen okay to use Jesus as long as it’s a character’s name. You just have to bleep out Christ, to indicate that this isn’t the REAL Jesus. Even though it’s clearly meant to be the Biblical Jesus. Bleeping out “Iscariot” is a little more puzzling, and I wonder if that’s actually just a joke. I wonder if Mary and Magdalene being two separate people was just to get around having to do the same for her.

The Rising Son is one of Adult Swim’s least celebrated shows. It’s for a good reason; from what I remember, this is the best episode of the four. But if you’re morbidly curious, you can watch it on Adult Swim’s website. And not the roku app. Seriously, like half the shit on the Roku App doesn’t work. Let’s face it, the roku app is a nightmare.

[covenofthearticulate]

Currents

current time: 11:09pm

current mood: fucking stressed and EXHAUSTED but so so so excited and accomplished. these past 3 weeks I’ve been working a summer camp for middle school kids (the first of FOUR camp sessions throughout the summer hahahaha i’m gonna be dead come august) and tomorrow is our FINAL day of camp with our final performance for friends and family. I’ve spent all week making props and costumes for these little buggers and they look so good, I’m so stoked for tomorrow— we perform on the same stage that LTROI finished on, and it’s MASSIVE so it’s really fun seeing the kids experience ~professional theatre~ for the first time

current activity: whoops I just said this in the last question but LOL i spent the last hour making a cardboard cartoon lightbulb prop and now i have to read an entire 120 page Real Adult Theatre play before a big important grown up meeting tomorrow :/

currently thinking about: i’ll be completely, totally, 100% honest with you: there is not a single goddamn thought in my head right now LOL these last few weeks have left me braindead, i’m just vibing tbh.

current favorite song: disloyal order of water buffaloes by fall out boy LISTEN i’m seeing FOB in 5 fucking days and their tour setlist is so WILD it’s full of random deep cuts which is AMAZING but also i’m kinda freaking out because i feel like a fake fan because even though I do love their early discography I don’t know every single lyric by heart and anyway I’m terrified of them playing a song that I won’t be able to sing along to so I’ve been listening to every album back to front on my commute to work LOL and I just totally forgot what a fucking banger album folie a deux is like jesus christ man. i love fob i don’t care if it’s cringe patrick stump owns my fucking heart.

currently reading:

POTUS: or, behind every great dumbass is seven women trying to keep him alive (for work)

Dracula: A Revenge Tragedy (for funsies)

currently watching: rewatching s1 of The Bear before I can dive into s2! goddamn, the dialogue in that show is so good

current favorite character: ONCE AGAIN i’m in a weird world where i spend my days straddling two fandoms with two characters that are absolute polar opposites. The Louis brainrot is real, but I’m also trying to be consistent in keeping up my Klaus Hargreeves rp blog. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: tumblr roleplay is such a great writing exercise for me because I can write little bite-sized chunks of 3-5 paragraphs and still feel accomplished, so I try to write at least one reply on my Klaus OR my Louis blog every day! Klaus tends to take over my brain in the spring/summer months because he’s extroverted and sunny, whereas my Louis muse tends to peak in autumn/winter months since he’s my cozy introvert boy. 

current WIPs:

Louis/Armand kinkweek bondage/edging session :)

Rue Royale Family Era fluff piece around Bath Time in the Pointe du Lac household

Loustat mirror sex :) 

I’m using this bullet point to formally apologize to folks who sent me prompts that never got filled LOL I do want to try to get to some of them eventually I just have so little spoons it’s tragic lol

tagged by: @hekateinhell hehe ty <3 tagging: @uncivilcivilservice @wicked-felina and anyone else who wants to hop in!!