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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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Just Like a Woman - Part 2

A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @lizawritesthings, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The next installment! Hope you guys enjoy some more pining, we love to see it

Warning(s): None :)

Part 1

Part 2 here we go!!!

“Mark, I am so sorry!” you gasped. “I - I had no idea!”

“You had no idea that it’s our anniversary?” he snapped. “Does it really mean that little to you?”

“You know you mean the world to me,” you returned. “I’m so sorry, I just got so caught up at work and I really had the worst day imaginable, so -”

“You forgot our anniversary and our dinner plans and you expect me to feel sorry that you had a bad day at work?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. It just slipped my mind, love, really. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t bother,” he replied, getting to his feet.

He flung the flowers onto the floor before aggressively snatching up the plates and walking them into the kitchen. He dumped the ruined food into the garbage bin, and slammed the plates into the sink. You winced at the sound of the crash.

“Mark, don’t be like this,” you pleaded, stripping off your coat and leaving your briefcase by the door to follow him into the kitchen.

“How d’you expect me to react, then?” he shouted, switching the faucet on. “Like everything’s fine? Because I know it isn’t, Y/N! I give and give and give in this relationship, and you’ve not once shown me that you care!”

“I care, it’s just that I’m busy with work and-”

“You don’t think I’ve got a busy job?!” he cried squeezing the life out of the bottle of dish soap to lather into the sponge in his hand. “Christ, I’m saving lives, Y/N! I also work long hours, and yet, I made time for dinner tonight! Because we discussed this last week!”

“I forgot!” you returned. “I don’t have any excuses, okay? I just forgot! It was shitty and I’m really sorry! Now, will you please stop cleaning?!”

He paused. With a sigh he turned the water off and looked at you.

“I’ve already ruined the evening,” you said. “You shouldn’t have to clean up.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I should be going home.”

He stormed past you. You reached out and took his arm, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at you.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded. “I really am sorry. There’s still some wine left. Why don’t we just split the bottle and get cozy on the couch, yeah?”

He sighed. “I’m really no longer in the mood to see you, Y/N. I’ll call you later, okay?”

With that, he shrugged out of your grasp, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door, closing it with a harsh snap. You heaved a sigh as well. Then you got to work on the dishes. Luckily, Mark had already cleaned up what he had used to cook, so you were able to quickly wash the rest and put it all on a drying rack.

As you labored in the sudsy water, your mind once again went to Roger. The thought of seeing him on Wednesday both delighted and terrified you. Especially after your conversation with Dominique. If Roger still cared for you, why hadn’t he reached out? You were usually single. This relationship with Mark was the longest you’d had since Roger. Once again, you decided she must be wrong.

When the dishes were done, it was about a quarter past midnight. You went to get ready for bed. You had another meeting in the morning with a new client, and you would probably be hearing from Mark as well. Perhaps because you’d been drinking, you were able to fall asleep with little trouble.

Roger, on the other hand, had no such luck. He sat on his back patio, smoking a cigarette, and wide awake. The air was cold and dry, but he hardly felt it. His eyes were fixed on the puffs of smoke emerging from his mouth and disappearing into the air. He could only think of one thing. You.

He had hoped that he would never see you again. The breakup was painful enough, and he had always felt foolish for how he handled it. Now you were forced into his life through another painful event. He was embarrassed that you would see all the drama between himself and Dominique.

Just as he thought of her, she appeared behind him. Though they no longer shared a room, she was still living at the house.

“Rog,” she said. “What are you still doing up?”

He turned to face her. She wrapped her bathrobe tighter around her and shivered as she waited for his reply.

“Go inside, Dom, it’s cold,” he said.

“All the more reason to wonder what you’re doing out here,” she said.

“Just thinking,” he replied, taking another drag and inhaling it deeply.

“About Y/N?” she asked.

He exhaled. Smoke once again rolled from his mouth into the air.

“I know, it’s a small world,” she continued. “But if you really don’t want her to represent you, you can find another lawyer.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” he said simply.

He heard her huff. “Rog, just come inside.”

“I’m in the middle of a cigarette,” he protested.

“Rog -”

“What happened to us, Dominique?” he questioned suddenly. “All my life, I’ve wanted what I never had - a stable home. I wanted to meet a nice girl, marry her, have some kids, and be the best bloody rock drummer in the world. Didn’t I do that?”

“Sure,” she replied with a shrug.

“So why isn’t it working out?” he wondered.

“Because you married the wrong girl,” she said levelly.

He sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing in return.

“I’m going in,” Dominique said. “Freeze your balls off out here for all I care.”

He faced the yard again. The door creaked open and he heard her step inside.

“That’s not true, you know,” he called to her. “I married a great woman.”

Dominique’s lower lip trembled, and not from shivering. She closed her eyes and let a tear fall down her cheek.

“That doesn’t make me the right woman,” she returned. “And if you want my opinion she’s come back into your life for a reason.”

She gave him no time to answer before closing the door swiftly behind her.

The next morning, you arrived at work a little late. You went right over to your assistant, Jane.

“Jane, were there any calls for me?” you asked, picking up some papers and flipping through them.

“No,” she answered. “Were you expecting one?”

You frowned. You thought for sure Mark would have called the office first thing.

“No,” you lied. “Just wondering.”

“Well, your new client, Mr. Broome, is waiting for you in your office,” she told you.

“Oh, has he been waiting long?” you wondered.

“No, just a few minutes,” she assured you.

“Alright, I’m heading in,” you said. “If Mark calls, have him hold for me, okay?”

“Will do.”

You walked past her station and into your office. There sat a tall, handsome man, but with a scowl on his face that made him much less attractive than he was.

“Mr. Broome,” you greeted.

He rose from his seat. “Miss Y/L/N, I’m so glad you’re here. This is the most dreadful business.”

You shook his hand. “How can I help you?”

“I’m seeking an annulment of my marriage,” he told you.

You set your briefcase down by your desk and hung your coat up on the rack.

“On what grounds?” you asked.

“Her breasts are fake,” he said. “I didn’t know until after we were married.”

You blinked. The cases you got continued to get stranger and stranger.

“Um, well, I’m not sure I understand how that qualifies for an annulment,” you said.

“We didn’t - um - have relations until after we were married,” he explained further. “I was under the impression that everything about her was real. I feel I entered into this marriage without full knowledge. I was deceived!”

“So, you feel she presented herself to be something that she isn’t?” you asked, to clarify.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Okay, we might have a case here, but we’re on pretty flimsy ground,” you said. “Was there anything else in the marriage you felt was presented as false besides her breasts?”

This meeting went on for about half an hour. You got all the information you could from Mr. Broome, but since his wife had apparently no other supposed indiscretions, and he had never asked if her breasts were real, you felt it was a pretty weak case.

Afterwards, you checked with Jane again.

“Any calls?” you asked.

“Mark hasn’t called,” she said. “But Roger Taylor did.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What did he want?”

“He said it was just to confirm the meeting tomorrow, but I think it was something else,” she said. “He seemed agitated.”

“Hm,” you said, though your mind was awhirl with questions. “Well, if he calls back, put him through.”

“Hey, Y/N,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question,” you replied.

Her cheeks went pink with a deep blush. “Um...what was it like, being with Roger?”

“You mean in bed?”

She nodded, looking at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Oh, it was so...so…” you began dreamily. Then you frowned. “Private.”

She huffed. “Well, there’s no need to be snappish.”

The day wore on. Still, there was no word from your boyfriend and you were beginning to worry. Was he really that angry at you? The only way to move forward was to talk things through. Or, was his abrupt departure last night his way of ending it? No, he said he’d call you.

By the end of the day, as you were gathering your things, Jane came in to invite you to the bar again.

“No, thanks,” you said. “I haven’t heard from Roger all day, so I don’t feel much like going out.”

She put her hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Roger?”

“Mark!” you quickly corrected. “Of course I meant Mark, don’t go making this into something that it isn’t!”

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” she sighed. “Just shows who is really on your mind.”

Not eager to hear Jane tell your coworkers what she heard, you skipped the bar, and headed home. You still had some research to go over for Roger’s case, especially where the house was concerned.

As you set down your work things, you looked around your flat, recalling the events of the previous evening. You glanced at the phone. The idea of foregoing tradition and calling Mark first crossed your mind, but you pushed it aside. If he needed time to cool off, that’s what you would give him. Instead, you sat on your couch and opened your law book, searching for some precedent similar to Roger’s case.

The next day, you still had no word from Mark when you came into work. Now, you were really worrying. Had something happened to him? Should you report him missing? You shook your head. He was probably just busy and would call you later. You were sure of it.

When ten o’clock rolled around, you were waiting in the conference room when Roger arrived. He looked disheveled, blonde hair rumpled and a wrinkled shirt beneath a leather jacket. His jeans were fine, but his sneakers had an odd stain on them.

“Big night?” you questioned.

He took off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the table.

“Freddie had a party and I needed to unwind before today,” he explained through a groan.

“Ah, I see,” you said. “I’ve got some aspirin in my office, would you like some?”

“Please,” he replied quickly.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him, holding back a laugh.

You left the conference room and started walking to your office.

“Oh, Y/N, before you go in -” Jane began, but you cut her off.

“Not now, Jane, I’m just grabbing some aspirin,” you said.

When you opened the door, you realized what she had been trying to say. Mark was there, leaning against your desk. He looked up at you when you appeared in the doorway.

A soft “oh” fell from your mouth.

“Mark’s waiting for you in your office,” Jane said sassily.

“Thank you, Jane,” you spat, and then slammed the door in her face.

“Can we talk?” Mark asked.

“Now’s really not a good time,” you said. “I’ve got a meeting.”

“Y/N, it's about our relationship,” he went on. “Isn’t that more important than work?”

“I’m sorry, but not while I’m actually in the office working,” you replied. “I only came to my office to grab something for Rog - er, my client, and I’ve got to be back in that room. We’re on a very tight schedule since I’ve got to be in court shortly after.”

“Y/N, I’m working a long shift tonight, I won’t be available later,” he said.

“Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you ignored me for an entire day,” you snapped.

“Oh, you’re angry at me now?” he demanded.

“I’ve got a right to be!” you shot back. “You stormed out of my flat, said you’d call, and then you didn’t! I’ve already admitted to and apologized for my wrongdoing the other night.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s over,” he argued. “The issue isn’t that you forgot about one night. It’s all the nights you forget. I’m trying to tell you that I feel neglected by you more than I feel loved.”

“Well, Mark, as I said, that’s not a conversation that I -”

Suddenly the door swung open and Roger strode in.

“Y/N, I thought you were just getting aspirin, now Dominique and Tim are here, and my head’s splitting - oh,” he stopped himself, observing you and the man standing beside you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, you didn’t,” you assured him. “Mark, this my client, Roger Taylor. Roger, this is my boyfriend, Mark Bitters.”

They nodded at each other.

“Boyfriend?” Roger questioned.

You rolled your eyes. Then you opened up your top desk drawer, retrieved the aspirin, and tossed it to him. It rattled as he caught it.

“There. Take care of that headache, Rog, and I’ll be right there,” you said.

Roger looked between you and Mark once more before backing out of the office and returning to the conference room.

“Is that Roger Taylor of Queen?” Mark questioned. “Who is also your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “Long story. But I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, then,” he agreed.

Roger stormed back into the conference room, throwing himself into his chair. He slammed the bottle of aspirin down on the table, making Dominique jump.

“Alright, Rog?” she asked.

“She’s got a boyfriend…” he said, mostly to himself.

“Who’s got a boyfriend?” she wondered.

That was when you walked in. You felt some tension in the air, but assumed it was something Roger and Dominique had said to each other in the time you were gone.

“Right, sorry about that,” you said, taking your seat beside Roger. “So, Mrs. Beyrand, I’ve looked into the house issue, and since the deed is solely in my client’s name, without mention of tenants or anything similar, the rights to the property are entirely his.”

Dominique looked at Tim. “Isn’t there anything we can do? I live in that house, I clean it, I’m raising the kids there.”

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m not comfortable with the assertion no action can be taken,” he said. “Why else do we have these negotiations?”

“Well, comfortable or not, my client has no obligation to allow your client to continue living in his house,” you returned. “There’s no law that protects her. And if you’ve done your job, you’d know that too.”

“So, you expect Mrs. Beyrand to just live on the street?” Tim countered.

“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Hooper,” you said. “The expectation is for her to find a place to live that’s her own. In the meantime, Mr. Taylor has agreed to allow Mrs. Beyrand to live there, is that not true?”

“He has,” Dominique conceded. “But I don’t want to move. Especially with the kids.”

“Christ, Dom, you always do this,” Roger groaned.

“Do what?” she demanded.

“Bring up the kids to make me feel like shit!” he cried. “You’re the one who filed for divorce, did you not expect me to want you out of the house? How else do we move on?”

“I don’t bring the kids up to make you feel like shit, I bring them up because it’s important to consider them,” she retorted. “Putting children first is what good parents do.”

“Hey, I’m a great dad!” he returned hotly. “I provide for my family!”

“Oh, yeah, kicking mum out of the house is some provision,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not kicking you out, this is part of the process!” he insisted. “This is what you always do, guilt trip me until I give in. Well, I’m not giving in with this one!”

“I have to say, I also find this tactic a bit manipulative,” you agreed. “No one is forcing you into homelessness. Roger is quite generously allowing you to live in the home until you’ve found someplace new. As for the children, custody hasn’t been addressed, but we can discuss it at the proper time. Right now, all we need is a time frame.”

You looked at Roger expectantly. Dom and Tim did the same.

“I’ll give you six months,” Roger said.

You blinked, shocked at the selflessness of this. That was much longer than you’d ever heard of. Admiration began to seep into your heart as you looked at him.

Tim whispered something to Dominique, who sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “Six months. I’ll be out.”

“Good,” Roger returned. “Dom, I’m not happy about this, you know.”

“I know,” she replied. “I’m not either. But it’s for the best.”

They went silent. Something passed between them as they locked eyes, but you couldn’t quite name it. Understanding? Regret? General sorrow at the situation?

“Right, let’s continue, shall we?” you said, clearing your throat.

You continued discussing assets and recording everything to put into their final divorce settlement. It seemed that they had both softened at Roger’s offer. As the meeting drew to a close, you looked at Tim.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow afternoon,” you said. “To discuss custody of the children.”

“Very well,” he agreed.

You all shook hands. You watched Tim and Dominique leave, but before she stepped into the lift, she looked at Roger one last time. Then, her eyes found yours. She shook her head and disappeared behind the doors.

“Alright, Rog,” you said. “Come to my office, and we’ll discuss what you want out of the custody meeting.”

He followed you there and closed the door. You placed his file on your desk. As you did, you looked at him again. There was such a drastic change in him since you had seen him last, and it wasn’t just the short hair.

“That was sweet of you, you know,” you told him. “Giving her six months. That’s a lot more than most people would agree to.”

“She’s the mother of my children,” he said. “I’m happy to accommodate her if I can.”

That admiration was starting to make you melt a little.

“You’re a very kind person, Roger,” you said. “I don’t know if people tell you enough.”

“That means a lot, especially from you,” he replied. “I - uh - wasn’t very kind to you, was I?”

“It was a long time ago,” you said. “It hardly matters now. Anyway, let’s talk about your children.”

Roger glanced at the ground to hide his hurt. When he looked back at you, you couldn’t tell that you’d burned him with “It hardly matters now.”

“Right, um, there’s my little boy, Felix,” he said. “He’s three. And then my girl, Rory, and she’s one.”

You tried to keep your eyes from watering.

“Felix?” you questioned. “My dad’s name?”

He flushed and looked down again. “Yeah, well, he was always...there when my own dad, y’know…” he trailed off. “How is your dad?”

“He passed, actually,” you said. “About a year and half ago. I’m sorry, Roger, I had no idea he meant so much to you.”

“S’alright,” he sniffed. “Just as well. I couldn’t have handled it if I’d known.”

Another beat passed.

“How’s your mum?” he asked.

“Still adjusting, but pretty much okay,” you told him. “She’s coming for a visit soon.”

“Good, that’s good,” he said.

In all the time you had known Roger, you had never seen him look so awkward.

“What about your mum and stepdad?” you wondered.

“They’re doing great,” he told you. “Mum’s a bit upset about the divorce, but she’ll get past it.”

“I’m sure you all will,” you said.

“Yeah…”

You held each other’s gaze for a long, tense moment.

“So,” he said, clapping his hands to draw you both away from the trance. “The kids.”

“Right,” you agreed, shaking your head. “So, tell me how your schedule usually works and how often you’d like them to stay with you.”

You took notes as he spoke. You knew that with Roger’s job there was no way to argue for him to have primary custody, especially since the kids were still so little. But, he had rights as their father, and you felt he deserved to see them as often as possible. When he finished, you looked over your notes.

“I think we can work with this,” you said.

“Is that all for today?” he asked.

You nodded. For some reason, you found yourself dreading his departure.

“I’ll you tomorrow then,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.

He started toward the door, but when he took hold of the handle, he hesitated. He looked back at you and watched as you pulled out another file from your desk and opened it up. You hadn’t changed much since he last saw you. In fact, you hardly looked aged. Your face still had that youthful brightness to it that he remembered so fondly. The way you hummed as you looked over the papers was so familiar to him, it was as if no time had passed at all.

You looked up and caught him staring.

“Is there anything else, Roger?” you asked.

“No,” he said, but a hit of a smile pulled at his lips. “I’m just really glad you’re my attorney.”

You chuckled. “Any time.”

With that, he tugged the door open. There stood Jane, ear pressed to where the wood once was. Her face went pink.

“I was just - um - I wasn’t - I -” she sputtered.

“Just go to your desk, Jane,” you instructed.

“Sure,” she replied hastily. Then she looked Roger up and down. “Hey,” she said, fluffing her hair.

“Hey yourself,” he returned with a wink, and then left.

You frowned. So much for your good mood.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #Queen #queen x reader #queen imagine #queen x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #just like a woman series

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

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Picquery

Draco Malfoy x Male!Reader

Summary: Y/N Picquery is an American pureblood wizard from Ilvermorny and son of the famous beater, Lucas Picquery. His parents got a job in the British Ministry and decided to pull Y/N out of Ilvermorny in the middle of the school year and transfer him during the winter break of Hogwarts. New to the school, Y/N settles on making friends with whom he thought was a regular student in school, Draco Malfoy, who decided to give Y/N a hard time whenever they interacted, not seeing that Y/N wanted to be someone Draco had never truly had: a real friend. But... maybe they could be more?

Requested by: @daleanjustwantstohavefun who said “It’s me again, thanks for answering. I wanted to request a Draco x Male Slytherin. The reader has a shy personality and is just trying to befriend Draco. Draco at first is being a prick, but slowly starts to develop a crush on the reader.”

A/N: Dear, Dalean. I kinda went off with most of the storyline. I’m sorry, I haven’t had the time to write because school has been making my life so busy and stressful. I’m sorry you had to wait but I hope this fic isn’t too bad for you.

Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @bbeauttyybbx

Word Count: 8.6K

Among the countless reasons why you were most likely going to be the talk of the entire school for the remaining months, there were four main reasons that could possibly explain it all. One, you were the son of Lucas Picquery, known to be one of the best beaters in the American National Quidditch team, having countless headlines flashed in newspapers saying, ‘Picquery beats the visitors again, in another intense American based tournament!’

Aside from giving honor to the Picquery name through the fame of a beater, you were related to Seraphina Picquery, who was one of the most popular presidents of MACUSA, also known as the Magical Congress of the United States of America, which was a big deal everywhere as she was president during the time where Newton Scamander, also known as Newt, began his journey in America, bringing both parties of the MACUSA and the British Ministry involved in a wild journey.

You, yourself, had a wild journey as well as you emigrated to England at an unprecedented time, resulting in moving into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the middle of the school year. It was a very exciting yet scary time for you as the environment in Hogwarts was much different than Ilvermorny, which was your school in America.

The only thing that made things vastly different in Hogwarts was how you, someone so blind to the norms and social standings of people in Hogwarts, ended up trying to befriend one of the most powerful and intimidating people as a way to make friends in your new school. After undergoing rough moments with that person, he unexpectedly fell for you, which was something neither you, him, or the entire school saw coming. This person was Draco Malfoy, and he was the fourth and last reason why you were going to be the talk of the town.

Moving into a whole new school, let alone, a whole new country was something you just had not expected. You were having a normal life in Ilvermorny, which was in Massachusetts, USA, and it was so far the best time of your life.

The people there were so comfortable with each other, the academics was a strong suit of yours, and being just like your father, you were a beater in your house’s quidditch team. People adored you as you were treated more like a celebrity of your own for being such a talented beater, rather than being a celebrity because you were the son of Lucas Picquery, legendary beater. This was the respect that you have always wanted from people.

During the Christmas break, you had the great advantage to head home, seeing your father and mother as they apparently had wonderful news to tell you. There was nothing better than coming home to see your wonderful parents, but adding wonderful news? Now, that is what people call a wonderful holiday.

During the first dinner back at home with your parents, it was a quiet one. Usually there would be grand dinners and parties held at your home, celebrating your return from school or bringing in old friends to spend the holidays with, but this first night was just a night with you and your parents. It was a little odd for them not to have a massive party to share their news, but nevertheless, you did not question them, rather just waited patiently for them to share whatever they had in mind with you.

“Son,” your father finally spoke as he was eating his dinner, “Would you finally like to know what the news is?”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

“Well, your mother here has been selected to join the British Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a person to give such American perspective on the job.” he said, pointing at your mother who seemed most happy about the announcement, “And as for me, I’m going to give up my Quidditch coaching spot for awhile and take on a role in their Department of Magical Games and Sports which I could possibly get us hell of a good seat in every sports tournament they have.”

You looked at your father with narrowed eyes, thinking you just understood that they have decided to take jobs in a country which was a thousand miles from where you were sitting. “I’m sorry, are you trying to say that you’re moving to England?”

“You mean ‘we’, which includes you, Y/N.” He nonchalantly said, taking another bite from his meal.

You were still looking at your father with a serious look, opening your mouth, waiting for a more brief explanation from him, but he was busy enjoying the food your mother had prepared. “Um, that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to me, pops? I have a life here already, dad, a sweet one. I’m a beater in my quidditch team, I have many friends who will miss me, and I love Ilvermorny! I can’t just drop in the middle of the school year and abruptly leave everything that has shaped me to become who I am today? Can’t you just leave me here alone for the remaining months of the school year? Besides ,it’s not like I’m going to be living alone if you leave me, I live in school! Plus, who knows, I could possibly catch up with you two in England for the next year in school!”

“Look kiddo,” he said, trying to make things easier, “We thought of every possibility concerning you and we feel like it would be best to bring you with us. Imagine if something horrible happened to either of us while we’re away? Please, son, you will love Hogwarts, it’s a respectable school, and they have a great quidditch team there as well.”

“Sweetie, do this for us, okay, hon?” you mother placed a hand on yours, holding it tightly as she looked at you with a supporting smile on her face, “We’re on the same boat as you, remember? You’re not alone.”

Few days after that night, you decided to accept fate and say goodbye to what a wonderful life America has given you as you and your parents travelled to England, settling in early while it was still a holiday for both Ilvermorny and Hogwarts. You were given choices, concerning where you would reside at the moment. It was either you moved straight to Hogwarts during the holiday, getting settled early and all, or moving when the holiday ended when the new term in Hogwarts eventually would fall on.

This was something you had to deeply think about in order to not embarrass yourself as you moved in during the middle of the school year. If you moved during the holiday, that meant there were less people in school who would notice that there was a new face, entering the school, looking like a lost foolish soul at the time. This also meant that you had more time to settle in and be as far away from your parents, the ones that just had to pull you from an amazing life you had, not that they had a choice.

The other choice was to move during the new term, which meant spending the last of the holiday with your parents. It would be nice to compose your nerves in a place where you had familiar faces with. Being with people you know and love with your heart before moving to a place where you didn’t know anyone was something to consider.

In the end, you chose the first option, which was the move during the holidays. Upon your request, you parents had asked Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, to consider giving a warm welcome to you by NOT announcing the arrival of a new student in the middle of the school year. Since Dumbledore was someone who loved welcoming students his way, he decided to agree with your request, but adding a simple edit by having the professors lightly introduce you to your classmates in the most nonchalant way they could think of.

As you were sitting alone by one of the carts of Hogwarts Express, you started seeing the famous castle coming by. The nerves that had come out of nowhere had started entering your veins, bringing fear and nervousness as you were trying to think of the many ways of how to seem nonchalant about entering the school.

Obviously you didn’t want to be that one person moving in with countless baggage as if you were a new student, which you were, but you couldn’t do anything! When the express train had finally come to a stop, you were greeted by a boy, about your age wearing a black and green robe, but the platinum blonde color of his hair was the first thing that you had noticed about him. Apart from this, he was standing next to this huge giant with a thick and long beard that could be used to catch food crumbs if he had any.

Stepping out of the train, you slowly took a few steps towards the two people who were awaiting for you.

“Uh, hello there, my name is Y/N Picquely. I’m the new student from Ilvermorny.” you greeted, trying to sound as calm as ever, but the nerves in your voice made that slightly hard for you.

The platinum blonde boy looked at you, up and down, judging you based on your appearance with an emotionless look on his face. He brought out his hand, “Of course you are.” he sarcastically said, “The names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and apparently I’ve been assigned to help you around ‘discretely’ since you have been placed Slytherin, which is now your new house, the best house, so I expect that you show great pride in it.”

You extended your hand, shaking him with a confused look as the giant nudged Draco in the shoulder, “Ye shouldn’t be too harsh to the newcomer, Malfoy,” he pleaded. Then he sympathetically turned to you, looking at you with a tired smile, “I’m Hagrid. I’m the grounds keeper of Hogwarts.” He waved.

You gave Hagrid a more calmer look, sensing that he was more comfortable to be around with compared to Draco Malfoy, who was a student in your year. As you were walking side by side with Draco, Hagrid followed from behind, bringing your luggage with him.

“So,” Hargrid spoke again, “You must hear this often but uh, I’m a fan of your father.” he shyly said.

“Wow, thanks,” you replied, “I didn’t know he was popular here in England.” you were surprised.

“Course he is,” Draco heartlessly added, “But don’t think he’s the only beater we praise here. We too, have many excellent beaters that are born and represent England. We have Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies, Dawn Withey and Indira Choudry from the English National Team, Joey Jenkins from Chudley Cannons, heck even the Broadmoors from the Falmouth Falcons!”

“That’s awesome,” you kindly told Draco, “I bet you have amazing beaters here in school too. I used to play back in Ilvermorny.”

“Well, don’t expect to be treated like a star here as well, Picquery. The slots for our team are full and besides, I doubt you can avail a slot now, we already filled every vacant slot during the first month of the school year, when you weren’t here yet.”

“Malfoy…” Hagrid whispered from the back, warning Draco of his behavior.

Sadly, Hagrid wasn’t the best in keeping things silent, which meant that you too, could hear the tone Hagrid had given towards Draco. Still, this didn’t bother you from trying to be friends with Draco. To you, he seemed like someone you could still try to be friends with. He seemed like the person that just had to thaw out first.

After being uselessly warned, Draco rolled his eyes at himself as he brought his hand up, presenting you Hogwarts as the three of you had arrived at the castle door. “Welcome to your new home, I suppose.”

Draco seemed as if he was about to rush away from you and Hagrid but luckily, you walked towards him as he was about to open the castle doors, “Is this it for you?”

“I’m sorry,” he sarcastically said, “Did you expect me to give you a full tour? I thought you wanted things to be discrete? Besides, I have to attend to better things.”

Stunned, this left Draco scoffing and saying, “That’s what I thought.” then turned around, opening the doors widely and turning right, to make his way wherever, somewhere far away from you.

Hagrid seemed sorry for you and placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to turn around to see that the giant gave another sympathetic look. “I’d like to apologize on his behalf. He’s always been like that since his first year. He’s just cold that way.”

“That’s alright, Hagrid. It’ll take time for me to get to know him better.”

“You? You want to be friends with Malfoy?”

“I don’t see why not?”

“Look, kiddo. I rather have you not be friends with him. Heck, I rather have Professor Dumbledore change your house. Don’t get me wrong, Slytherin is a fine house, but Malfoy OWNS Slytherin. It’s best if you don’t engage with him, or else he could turn the whole house on ya! I suggest you find some other friends in yer house.”

“He doesn’t scare me, Hagrid. I’d like to think of him as a stone cold ice cube that can be thawed out, showing his true colors once he’s all melted and cooled out.”

“Aye, if that��s what you truly want to believe,” Hagrid shook his head, “I wish ya the best. Now come, let’s get this baggage of yours to your common room.”

With Hagrid guiding you around the castle, you were looking left, right, up, and down as you were observing and analyzing everything around you. The interior and exterior of Hogwarts was quite different but at the same time somehow similar to Ilvermorny.

Ilvermorny was like the tinier version of Hogwarts and growing up in a much smaller school made Hogwarts feel like a big deal to you. The design and structure of everything in this school was much older and felt like it’s been through a lot over the years.

People here were much different compared to your old school. Sure, Ilvermorny was proper too, but it was more lively and laid back in your old school and seeing that these people act more well-maintained and formal made you a little uneasy. Would you have to act the same as them?

It was really hard to think about it, especially when Hagrid finally made a stop in front of a door. You looked at him, expecting him to open the door and keep moving but he seemed like this was his final point. “I suppose you can’t enter here?” you asked, having a hunch.

“Only if necessary but in this case, I’m done for now,” he replied, handing you your luggage carefully, “This is your common room. Inside, you’ll find your dorm. It’s most likely you won’t be alone in there, there’s still some students staying over. Make sure to make friends with ‘em, okay?”

“I sure will try,” you smiled, “See you around, Hagrid.”

Hagrid gave you a warm smile and turned around, leaving you alone in the entrance of the common room. Not one second after that did you realize that you forgot that every common room, whether you’re in Ilvermorny or Hogwarts, had a secret verbal password for each house to use when entering the room.

Hoping that Hagrid was still walking around near you, you turned around, seeing that he surprisingly wasn’t around the halls anymore, as if he took a quick turn to who knows where. You sighed, feeling like the most idiotic person alive in the castle right now.

There was nobody around the halls at the moment and the urge of unpacking and hiding in your dorm for the rest of your winter break was much needed so what you did was bring your luggage with you and walk around the castle, hoping to find a room filled with people to help you.

There were open doors nearby and seeing that there was light and a low volume of voices inside, you rushed forward, praying that you weren’t going insane. As you made it to the entrance of the open doors, a sigh of relief came from your mouth as you faced a good number of students to help you out.

Most of them were either having a meal, playing chess, or simply conversing with each other. You could have gone to any of these people but unfortunately from their body languages, it seemed as if they either wanted to use their time doing anything but help a helpless soul, or from the few looks people would give you, it seemed that they instantly identified you as the Picquery son of Lucas Picquery.

Internally groaning at yourself, you shyly and slowly made your way to your house table, walking forward to someone you could hardly miss as his platinum blonde hair stood out among the many around the room.

Draco Malfoy was having a comfortable time, he seemed to be talking lightly with his fellow friends who seemed to be quite close with each other as there was a girl, clinging onto another girl as if they were best friends, two boys sitting closely together silently and uncomfortably, and a boy, talking to Draco as if he was so tired of him today.

Before even tapping on Draco’s shoulder, all their eyes except Draco’s were on you. It caused Draco to stop talking seeing that his friends brought their attention to someone behind him. Eager to find out who stole his spotlight, he turned around with an irritated look, his eyes now on you.

You stood there, soon to be frozen as Draco and his group gave an unfriendly energy on you as there was nothing but cold looks looking at you. “Forgot to give me a tip on my excellent tour guiding, Picquery? I’ll have you know that I too come from a wealthy family, haven’t you heard?”

His friends started laughing but although some sounded like they were forcing themselves to laugh, you still shyly shook your head, “Uh, no, well yes I mean, I have heard of some good family names here, I didn’t mean to tip you if that’s what you thought.”

“Well then, off you go,” Draco snickered.

“I would love to, but uh, Hagrid seemed to have forgotten to give me the password for the common room and I was hoping you could come with me and show me to my dorm.”

“Don’t need to, the password is Viridi,” he whispered, “Your dorm should be the second room to the left, now off you go,” he waved, motioning for you to leave as his friends started snickering with him.

You gave a faint smile at him and turned around, muttering to yourself how much of an embarrassment you are to the Picquery name. As you were making your way back to the common room, your spirits were still high up in the air as you were still eager to befriend Draco Malfoy.

He was just a very thick ice that you had to use all your efforts in melting.

When you arrived at the common room door, you said, ‘Viridi,’ which you knew meant Green in Latin, then arrived to see a very Slytherin-like common room. The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in carved chairs.

The common room is a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs. This dungeon extends partway under the lake, giving the light in the room a green tinge. The common room has lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas; skulls; and dark wood cupboards. One of the wooden tables has a Wizard's Chess set on it. It is decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins. It has quite a grand atmosphere, but also quite a cold one.

As you were walking across the common room, a girl who was eyeing you from the minute you entered the common room and looked at its interior, stood up from her seat on the couch and rushed, making her way to you as she offered you a wave and smile. “Hello, are you the son of Lucas Picquery?”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

“I honestly don’t know what’s so unfortunate about that but we can get to that later. I’m Astoria Greengrass, a year below you.”

“How do you know that I’m a year above you?”

“Well, I did my research the minute I heard from my father that he was having a new co-worker in the Ministry and I overheard Draco talking about you with my sister and his other friends in the Great Hall before I came up here.”

“He’s hardly a nice fellow to most, isn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s Draco.

“It’s a shame though concerning Draco, I’m quite eager to befriend him.”

“I see,” she said, sounding surprised, “Well, I wish you all the best with that. Come let me show you to your dorm-”

“This is the second time I heard someone wish me the best when it came to befriending Draco,” you stopped her, “Why?”

Astoria looked around, hoping that you had not caught the attention of the few Slytherins around the room and placed a hand on your arm, “Let’s go to your dorm first, shall we?” Then she started leading you to your dorm.

As you arrived, you placed your luggage on the empty and clean bed that was located in the middle as Astoria took a seat on a desk, sitting down properly as she tried giving you a smile. “So,” she said.

“So,” you repeated after her.

“You’ve got a lot of bravery like a Gryffindor for wanting to be friends with Draco Malfoy.”

“Is it because he ‘OWNS’ Slytherin?” you said, remembering what Hagrid told you.

“Possibly, but he’s just all around your typical bad boy. I don’t really see you hanging out with him, to be honest. You seem like such a sweet soul, Y/N. Nice guys don’t hang around guys like Draco Malfoy, I’m being honest with you.”

“I still would like to try though.”

“Why? Why him?”

There was a pause before responding to that question. You could have easily answered this, but you stood up, leaning on the wall near your bed as you sighed, “Because I don’t think he’s a bad guy on the inside. I think there’s good in him, and I wanna be that person to bring it out of him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, plus he seems pretty.” you joked, earning a surprised laugh from Astoria as she stood up, walking towards you to place a hand on your shoulder.

“You know, your door is open, you’re lucky most of the people here are at the Hall right now.” she laughed, “You know, Y/N, I think I’d love to help you out with this. You seem like a great person and I would like to be on your side.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “There’s a party at Ravenclaw's later, eight in the evening. Usually Draco’s gang mocks the Ravenclaw’s and their parties, but we’ve been hearing that it’s going to be an actual blast. Why don’t you try inviting him to the party? I can help you mingle with him from there on, yeah?

“Sure,” you said.

Astoria patted you on the back, “It’s getting late, you should probably start unpacking and head out for dinner later, okay?”

Nodding in response, she waved goodbye and went back to her dorm, leaving you all by yourself. As you were unpacking, the excitement of Astoria still lingered on your mind, creating a much more enthusiastic energy in yourself as there was more confidence in you.

You didn’t expect having a friend help you out on this but you were extremely grateful that you had extra help to support you in becoming friends with Draco Malfoy. This was going to be much easier since you had someone on your side.

Later on that night when you were finally done packing, you put on a jumper since it was getting chillier at the time. Seeing that you were ready to go, you left your dorm, making your way out of the common room to the Great Hall.

On your way to the Great Hall, there were some people who were looking at you, whispering to each other as their eyes were on you. You already knew that they were talking about you and how you were the son of the famous Picquery that had come to England all the way from America.

Some couldn’t contain their excitement as three people in red robes, which you assumed were the Gryffindor robes, turned around and walked towards you. Two of them seemed so uncomfortable, not because of you, but their friend in the middle who seemed so excited.

“Blimey, you’re Y/N Picquery! Son of Lucas Picuqery! Could I have your autograph and possibly a hello from your father?” the ginger-haired boy said so quickly that the girl with curly hair smacked him in the head with a newspaper that she was holding and said, “Could you be anymore irritating?” Then she looked at you with a sad smile, “We are very sorry about him, he’s just a big fan of quidditch and all.”

“That’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse before and this is nothing compared to it.” you laughed, causing the three to laugh with you.

“So, may I have your autograph?” the ginger cheekily smiled as he was ignoring the cold stare the girl was giving him.

“I honestly don’t know why you’d like mine when I could give you my dad’s, who’s the real star,” you smiled at the boy who seemed like he was about to explode of happiness.

“Bloody hell, you would do that for me?!”

“Of course, but don’t expect it to come in a jiffy, he’s all the way in the Ministry with my mom.”

“Of course, of course, of course, I’ll wait patiently!” he jumped, “Thank you so so so much!”

“Well, excellent!” the other boy said, trying to end the conversation for his friend. He gave the girl a look, motioning for her to drag their friend away, which she nodded to.

Before anything else happened the girl turned him around and offered you a small nod, “Thank you for tolerating him, see you around Y/N.”

With that, you continued your walk to the Great Hall, ignoring the other whispers and stares that people around the corridors were giving you.

As you arrived at the Great Hall, you immediately saw a hand waving at you from the Slytherin table. It was Astoria Greengrass, the first friend you had made today. She was sitting with a girl who looked like her, it must have been her sister. Sitting with them was Draco and the rest of his gang.

You looked at Astoria with wide eyes, but she still waved at you, giving you an expression that you would be fine. Gulping, you casually yet terrifyingly walked towards the group as they started giving you a much warmer look that the one they gave earlier.

“Ah,” Draco spoke, “I hear we have a guest sitting with us here today.” Then he turned around and looked at you. “Without your little friend Astoria here, you probably wouldn't even be sitting with us, am I correct?”

“Don’t be silly, Draco,” Astoria warned him, “Why don’t we welcome him, afterall, he’s a Slytherin just like us! Not to mention a pureblood, eh?” She tried sounding persuasive but she ended up sounding a little childish.

Nevertheless, Draco coldy motioned you to sit with them, securing a spot beside Astoria, who was beside Draco. You kindly sat beside your friend as Draco looked at you with such snobbiness. “I suppose you’d like a hamburger, or a hotdog, or whatever you Americans eat.” he joked, gaining laughs from his friends except Astoria who had gotten an elf to snap his fingers, giving you a turkey leg and mashed potatoes.

“A turkey would be fine, it’ll be a blast eating your kind of food. And speaking of blast, are you going to the Ravenclaw’s later? I’d really love it if you came.”

His friends looked at you, then at Draco, trying to contain their laughter as they had just witnessed the newcomer invite Draco to a party as if it was Draco’s first party to ever attend. Draco peeked, looking at you with a scoff and said, “Are you a Ravenclaw because you just sounded like you own the party and happened to have just invited me. Pff.”

��No,” you shook your head nervously, “I just thought the party would be a great place for me to get to know you, and everyone else.”

Draco scoffed again, surprised by the audacity you had, “I’ll be there,” and there was happiness in your face only until he said, “Not because of you, but because I already planned on going.” then he pointed at you while you were not looking anymore and mounted, “Is he serious?” to his friends in front of him.

Astoria sympathetically whispered to you, “At least he’s going!” which made you smile back at her.

It was ten minutes to eight in the evening but Astoria had already pounded on your dorm door, asking for you as your two other roommates looked at you, expecting you to open the door. Slightly embarrassed, you rushed to the door to see that Astoria was already prepared while you just buttoned on your dress shirt.

“Come on already, you snail!”

“Is it a British thing to be early or something, because the party doesn’t start for another ten minutes!”

“Not really, you fool, but it would be better to get yourself acquainted with some Ravenclaws first. They are the hosts after all.”

“Mm okay,” you said, putting on your jacket.

Astoria dragged you out of the common room forcefully, bringing you over to a new side of the castle which you have not made yourself familiar with. You and Astoria were at the west side of the castle as she had brought you up to a spiral tower, which she said led to the Ravenclaw common room.

The common room of the Slytherin and the Ravenclaws were much more different. Already speaking about the location, the Slytherins were based in the dungeons, which were underground, compared to the Ravenclaws who were high above the rest of the other rooms in the castle.

Arriving at the common room, there were already people filling up the room. This wasn’t just the Ravenclaws filling up the room, according to Astoria there were already people she knew from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that already were there before the two of you.

You agreed with that when you saw the same three people that encountered you on your way to the Great Hall. The ginger-haired boy waved at you with a facial expression as if his dream came true and that he had heart eyes all over you. He was brought back to reality when the same girl beside him knocked some sense into him with a book that came from one of the Ravenclaw shelves. The boy beside him just laughed as he gave you a friendly nod which you gave back.

Astoria then led you to a group of Ravenclaws who were hanging by one of their book shelves having an early drink of punch already. “Y/N,” she said nicely, “This is Carol Bletchley, she’s a pure-blood friend of mine and one of the hosts of the party.”

The girl’s hair seemed like it had the same color as the girl who had knocked some sense into the ginger-haired boy, but this girl’s hair was much straighter. She gave a big smile as she extended her hand for a hand-shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Y/N Picquery,” she welcomed you as you shook her hand, “Everyone has been talking about you ever since you arrived.”

“And to think I was hoping for a discrete entrance into this school,” you shyly joked.

“Nonsense!” a boy who looked like her said, “Surely you had somewhat of a discrete entrance but a certain fan of yours apparently couldn’t stop talking about you. Something about getting your father’s autograph.” Which made you look up to see that the ginger-haired boy was bringing up a newspaper about your father being on the headline, it was an old quidditch one, which you do not want to question how he still had that.

“Raphael Bletchley, I’m Carol’s younger brother.”

“Nice to meet you, Raphael.”

His eyes were now drawn to something, or someone behind you as he said, “Oh wow, we have a face we haven’t seen in a long time in our parties.”

Turning around, you saw Draco Malfoy grabbing a glass of punch from the side as he was accompanied by his gang who had started to split up, leaving Draco with his two friends who acted as if they were body-guards.

“I thought Draco usually came to these parties, no?

“Came, yes,” Carol said, “But to actually stay? Hardly.”

“What do you mean?”

“He would usually come to check the party out and tell us how much of a nerdy or boring party we have.”

“Oh,” you said, “Excuse me.” you told them. You looked at Astoria who already knew that you were going straight to Draco. She gave you an encouraging nod and patted you on the back which made you start walking again.

“Hi, Draco.” you cheerfully yet shyly said, “I hear this is a first for you.”

“A first for what, Picquery?” he looked at you with a judging attitude and look.

“I hear you usually mock these parties and leave afterwards. What made you decide to linger around?”

“How are you hearing so much about me and wanting to know more about me? This is only for the first day and you already are going way out of line, Picquery.”

“I don’t think I am, Draco, I just want to be friends with you.”

“Why me of all people? Why don’t you play with little Astoria over there.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being friends with you too, Draco.”

“There is, because I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“Is there a-”

“Can you just FUCK OFF already, Picquery!”

Draco’s snap had gotten the attention of everyone in the entire room, especially the hosts who were about to walk towards you and have Draco escorted out. But Draco wasn’t finished.

“I don’t give a damn if you're the son of Lucas Picquery, alright? Just because you're famous does not mean you can get any friend you want. I don’t think you have half the talent your father has on the field. I am NOT your friend and I will NEVER be, okay? Bloody hell, this is your first day and you’re already making a fool out of yourself and out of me. I suggest you get the hell away from me now or else your puny reputation turns into shambles.”

Raphael rushed to the middle of the scene and grabbed a hold of Draco, whispering that it was time for him to go. As Draco refused to leave, squirming, “I have the right to be here, Bletchley, you don’t want my father to hear about this.”

“He’s right,” you entered their small conversation, “He has the right to be here, Raphael. We don’t want him to cause any more unfortunate events by contacting his father. This whole situation is my fault, everyone, I’ll be the one to leave.”

“Y/N, no, please.” Astoria said, rushing towards you.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Astoria.” then you looked at Draco and everyone else, “Have a great party, I hope this small situation didn’t kill the party. Rock on, guys.” you gave a sad smile as you walked past by Draco and the rest of the party-goers as you exited the common room of the Ravenclaws.

The party was something you didn’t want to think about. It might have ruined a little bit of your reputation but your reputation was something you didn’t care about anyways.

The moment you got back from the party, you headed straight to your dorm because you had nowhere else to go since you didn’t know the way to different parts of the castle yet. It would have been better to see Hagrid if you knew where he stayed so you could just live there forever until everyone else had graduated off from Hogwarts.

Despite having a lot on your mind, you managed to sleep through all your troubles, ignoring the whispers your two roommates were sharing as they had found out what had happened between the son of a famous beater and the Slytherin prince.

You woke up to them already out of their beds, having it made. When they had seen that you had woken up, they gave you a small smile and tried going back to focusing on making their bed. But you wanted to yank the truth out of them.

“You know, don’t you?” you asked.

The two of them looked unsure, hoping the other would be the one to talk but they were still playing their staring game, mentally making each other be the one to reply. You were tired of waiting for a response and waved it away, “It’s alright, of course you do.”

“We’re sorry to hear about it,” they both said at the same time, then looked at each other with a surprise. Then the one to the left of your bed said, “I suppose you haven’t heard about the good news for you?”

“I have good news? What could be good news, my father and mother getting demoted so we could go back to America? Please?” you sarcastically asked.

“Outrageous, you are, Picquery. Americans.” he said.

The one to the right of your bed shook his head, “Vincent Crabbe sprained his arm last night, the night of the party.”

“I don’t know who that is, so why should that be good news for me?” you confusingly asked.

“Because he was a Slytherin beater, well until he sprained his arm.”

“Try-outs for the next Slytherin beater are later this afternoon.” the person to your left added.

“Awesome,” you said, “I guess I could try out.” you shrugged.

“Don’t guess, you WILL, Y/N!” said a feminine voice behind you.

You turned to see Astoria Greengrass who looked at you with a soft smile as she opened her arms for a big hug that she was waiting for. You got out of bed and rushed to hug her and lift her up as she yelped and laughed. “Alright, put me down, Picquery.” she begged and when she was placed down, she looked at you with careful eyes, “I hope you haven’t given up on being friends with him.”

Ah, lovely to bring back some thoughts you thought you could sleep on forever. You sighed, scratching the back of your neck, “You know I’m surprised I didn’t cry or anything, what he said was really hurtful to be honest.”

“Oh, Draco’s like that. Besides, you’re a Picquery, you have the biggest and strongest heart I know. Trust me, you shouldn’t give up, and you should show everyone your place by earning that beater spot.”

“I guess I could. Besides, it could be a walk in the park.” you joked, only for her to nudge you on the shoulder.

“You’re in the right house, Picquery, you’re in the right house,” she patted you on the shoulder, “Now, get dressed, I have snacks we can devour by the quidditch field. I want you to practice first before the try-outs.”

You nodded, turning around as Astoria closed the dorm and ran back to the common room to grab the snacks and extra quidditch uniform she had gotten a hold of.

Back in the Great Hall, Draco was having a quiet breakfast with his gang. With Crabbe having a sprained ankle, it made his gang look miserable and weak, annoying the hell out of him. But what got him really annoyed was a single thought on his mind, swimming and swimming around his mind. That single thought was you.

He had dealt with many cases of lashing out and snapping at someone, but your case was really different. All you had wanted to do was be friends with him. He was too proud to accept the fact that there was someone who could have been his fresh start. Someone who had not fully known or witnessed the terrible things he has done in order to call him nasty things with or without him being there to hear it.

The many other situations he had placed on himself or stumbled upon never involved something nice or friendly being attempted. He was always used to receiving hate that he wanted to give back the same thing he had received. But this was the first time he had received actual niceness and warmth from a person that he was routined to give back the thing he usually was given, which was hate or negativity.

Draco had screwed up entirely and wondered why he decided to act terribly in front of someone like you. Sure, he was surprised to see that the son of someone famous wasn’t a snob like him, but he still decided to treat you the same way he treats Harry. He had many reasons to treat you badly but now, thinking about it made him ask himself truly why he had done this to you, and there was not a single real reason why. It all led up to nonsense that he was just making up at the moment. He felt like a clown, and didn’t know what to do.

Blaise saw the way he sulked and had a hunch it was about you. He decided to stop reading from his newspaper and settle things straight with Draco. “Malfoy, sulking about him?”

Draco looked at Blaise with a cold stare since Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Daphne had stopped eating and conversing to listen in to the conversation. It was useless to build-up his guard and deny everything. So Draco sighed, and embarrassingly nodded. “So what, Blaise? Do you really give a damn?”

“I do, Draco. You’re my friend.”

“Pff,” Draco scoffed.

“Malfoy, I know you can be vile,” he said, which Draco looked at him with a deadly stare, making Blaise raise his hands up, “But why be so vile to the guy? He’s been nothing but nice to you.”

“I don't know Zabini, alright! Maybe I felt an emotion.” Draco stood up, getting tired of the questions as he knew there would be more after this, “I’m going to support the team and head over to the field. You coming?”

Blaise and the rest stood up, “Course we are mate, bet he’s going to be there so we’re just hoping either of you talk to each other.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Draco muttered as he rolled his eyes.

After a solid practice with Astoria, nothing felt better than going back on the field. Your muscle memory was still intact, giving you the same feeling as if you were back in Ilvermorny, practicing and giving your best in the field.

As people started coming by to watch, you spotted Draco, who had also had his eyes on you. You flew down to the bleachers to walk towards Astoria as she had spotted your uncomfortable look. She looked left, then right, to see that Draco and his gang were making their way to the bleachers as well.

“Apart from being in the same house, why the hell is he here?” you asked her.

“He’s supporting his team. He’s our seeker,” she replied, “But he shouldn’t matter. This is your time, alright?”

You nodded, looking back at Marcus Flint, who Astoria told you was the captain of the team. Great, you thought, if you got in, you’d be training with someone who had hurt your feelings on the first day of your life in Hogwarts.

You flew back to the field, meeting Marcus and the other Slytherins, trying out for beater “Right,” Marcus said, gathering everyone, “There’s three of you, but only one spot, yeah? I expect a good play despite it being only try-outs. You all are familiar with the rules, so I also expect a fair audition. Good luck to you three and may the best beater beat the rest.” Then he flew up high, which got everyone cheering as the rest of the Slytherin quidditch players came out to be part of the game.

You flew up to the side of the field, muttering small prayers as you were trying to get yourself in the game. Draco’s eyes were all on you as he was observing the way you were trying to ready yourself. ‘A true Slytherin,’ he thought when he was watching you.

When Marcus had signalled that the game started, you flew to the center of the field, aiming your bludger to one of the two other beaters that auditioned.

One of them already thought of your idea and surprised the other beater, hitting his bludger with his bat as the beater who was supposed to try and knock you out, got knocked off himself as he fell onto the field.

“Out!” Marcus Flint said, pointing at the boy, “Sorry, mate. Off you go,” he rushed him, getting back the game.

Your team was still in the lead as the chasers helped score some points, helping you out as they knew you needed some time to figure out your next plan.

‘Forget the other beater,’ you thought, ‘and knock out the enemy chasers first, that way the only way they can try scoring is by knocking me out,’ then you flew up, ignoring the other beater that had mocked the beater who fell down.

You spotted an available chaser who was holding a quaffle closely to their side. This was your opportunity, so, before the round had ended, you lifted your bludger and whacked it forcefully towards the enemy chaser.

Just before the chaser could have been knocked off his broom, the beater you had forgotten about for a second illegally flew to the chaser and bumped him, having your bludger aim at the beater who prepared to use his body as shield.

What the beater didn’t know was that the bludger he shielded his chaser from backfired, hitting you in the face which caused you to fall off your broom. It knocked the lights out of you as you fell onto the field, not feeling the pain when your body hit the ground as you were already out the moment the bludger gave an impact on your head.

There were boos towards the other beater and scared voices watching your lifeless body on the ground. Astoria wasn’t even the first to get down from the bleachers as Draco chanted ‘Accio broomstick’ from the broomstick of the beater’s broom, causing him to slip off to the ground. With a grunt, Draco flew quickly to your side even before Marcus could come over.

“Fuck, Y/N, that’s a nasty bump on your head.” Draco muttered to himself as he jumped off the broomstick to lay a hand on the back of your neck, getting your head in an elevated position. After a few seconds, your eyes opened slowly, groaning at the pain as you tried sitting up straight. But a force was stopping you.

“Hold on there, jumpy,” said a voice.

Your eyes darted to the person to your side. It wasn’t Astoria. It was Draco Malfoy. “The hell are you doing here, Malfoy?” you asked, placing a hand on your forehead.

“Are you alright, Piquery? How’s the pain? What’s seven times five? How many fingers can you see? He asked, raising his hand.

“The question is,” you said, holding up a middle finger, “How many fingers can you see?”

“Alright, alright, you’re fine.” Draco let out a small laugh. Marcus finally came by, extending a hand, “Up you go, Picquery. That was quite some show I had. Not to mention your father’s signature hit?” he joked, “That beater? Josiah Blishwick? Definitely out of the audition. You, on the other hand, you got the role.”

“Fantastic,” you admitted, “Thank you, Marcus.”

Marcus gave a small nod and walked away. Josiah Blishwick walked towards you and Draco, giving a small sad look.

Draco looked at him with a deadly glare as he brought his wand up, “Expelliarmus!” he said, causing the boy’s wand to fly away. “The hell, Malfoy! I was only here to apologize.”

“Better apologize some other time, Bitchwick. I’m not in the mood.” Draco growled. Josiah nervously turned around, running off as Draco yelled, “You’re broomstick is in the bleachers, get it a potential house elf you are!” then laughed at himself, looking back at you, who was still not laughing with him.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, anything of this.” you rolled your eyes, walking away. You were completely done with Draco. Why be so nice all of a sudden? Not buying that bullshit.

Before you could get away from Draco completely, he said from behind, “You didn’t have to.”

You turned around, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Draco jogged towards you, “Look, I’m sorry Picqu- Y/N, alright? I was such a twit. I deserve to rot in Azkaban for giving you such a horrible welcome. All you did was just to be friends with me, but I was just the absolute worse and you may never forgive me, but I just wanted you to hear this, ‘I like you, and if you’re up to still being friends with me still, I’ll be the happiest lad in all of England.’ But if it’s not enough, I suppose I can step into your shoes and go through the agony of what I have done to you, if you were pleased with that.”

You crossed your arms, smirking, “You’d do that?”

“Merlin’s beard, I said that didn’t I?”

“Fine,” you agreed, “Let’s start tomorrow with switching places.”

“So, technically this won’t count, would it?”

Before you could ask what wouldn’t count, Draco walked towards you, cupped your cheeks and planted a quick yet soft kiss on your lips, enjoying the short time he gave himself. A smile grew on his face, then into a smirk when he saw how puzzled and surprised you were.

“N-no,” you shook your head, “I suppose that wouldn’t count.”

“Good, then maybe you can expect to encounter more until we switch places.”

“M-maybe we can practice some switching of places later, hm?” you said, catching him off guard. Your cheeks grew red, so you got a hold of your broom and flew out of the quidditch field, muttering to yourself, “Smooth, Y/N, real smooth.”

So perhaps aside from being a Picquery, dating someone who was a Malfoy would be the talk of the town for more than you could expect.

#draco malfoy x reader

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witchfire00 · 5 years ago

Note

Cinder kicks open Salem’s door and proudly boast that she brought back the lamp of Knowledge, only for her jaw to drop and face blush as she’s sees Salem having fun with a chained up Jaune~

Who is in Control?

Pairing: Salem x Cinder x Jaune

Genre: Angst; kinda dark

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Non-Con, Dubious consent, Manipulation,

Cinder couldn’t help but to hurry up the broken stairs and floors of Atlas military base. Salem would have surely claimed Ironwood‘s office by now. She probably shouldn’t have laid low for so long...but...she had to calm down first. Her master always knew how she felt and if she had to own up to her mistakes it was better for her to go in as in control as possible.

Reaching the imposant metal door the maiden sighed deeply, straightening her back and forcing her face to go blank.

‘This is it.‘

The hour of truth.

Gripping the handle of the relic even tighter, she pushed at the door with all the fake bravado she could muster...and immediately wished she didn’t.

’What the...?‘

Frozen at the doorstep, Cinder‘s eye widened comically at the sight in front of her.

She had expected Salem to be there in whatever outfit she saw fit for all she cared...but the blonde boy...that failure with a death wish, being tied up, with what looked like grimm matter, against the general’s chair completely naked, wasn’t something she was prepared for.

“W-why...I-...I mean...“

She stumbled over her words, as her head began to spin and a blush crept up her face.

Salem rose one eyebrow in silent amusement, beckoning her closer with a mere come hither motion of her hand. Flushing even brighter Cinder stepped into the room, trying to avoid the chained up boy’s horrified expression.

Just what was going on here?

‘A lesson!‘

No...Salem wouldn’t...right?

Not in front of...someone inferior to her.

Coming to a halt next to her master, she weakly offered the relic to her, but Salem gave no indication she would take it, instead she lazily leaned against the desk behind her.

The dark night sky still offered enough light to illuminate the room, giving it a beautiful, yet eerie hue.

“Try again, Cinder.“

‘Goddammit!‘

Taking a deep breath, she tried to stop herself from grimacing while sinking obediently to her knees, still presenting the relic to the older woman.

“Very good“, Salem said as she finally took what was offered to her, letting the other hand run over the maiden‘s hair.

It felt...possessive of sorts.

Cinder didn’t dare to raise her head or even flinch for that matter, but the heat of embarrassment from being exposed like this to someone else...this boy of all people, that had build up inside her, deepened the red on her cheeks.

“S-stop...that...“

‘Huh?‘

The hand in her hair stopped abruptly, vanishing completely after only a second later.

Out of the corner of her eye Cinder managed to spot just who had been foolish enough to order her master to stop.

The boy...of course it was him.

The boy...with a death wish.

“How rude of me.“

Salem’s voice didn’t betray any kind of emotion, her expression unfathomable and yet her tone managed to cause a small shiver to run down her spine.

Motioning for Cinder to rise, her master leaned back once more, a pleased smile on her face.

“Cinder, this is Jaune.

I heard you two have already been acquainted with each other.“

Normally the maiden probably would have growled or retorted something haughty, maybe even with dry and bitter sarcasm, but the fact that she now had to stare at this boy...Jaune, in only his birthday suit made it kind of hard for her.

Salem reached for his chains and wound them tighter, the dark matter constricting around him, as she demanded with a dangerously soft edge to her tone:

“By all means, do repeat what you just said.“

“St-ugh...stop...to-touching...her“, he managed to groan out in pain.

What?

Was he crazy?

Cinder‘s gaze switched between her master and Jaune in anticipation.

If this was supposed to be a lesson, then she needed to pay attention.

“And why should I do that?

Does it excite you?“

Now it seemed to be Jaune‘s turn to sputter, his ears flushing a deep red, as his expression became somewhat troubled.

“Answer me, boy!“, Salem all but ordered when he failed to respond.

Something on Jaune‘s body twitched to life at those words, but Cinder still refused to lower her gaze for even a fraction.

“N-no! I- she...just doesn’t seem...to like it...so you should stop.“

‘...Oh?‘

Was he implying she was forced against her will?

Salem turned to her with a mysterious smile, her voice warm and inviting.

“Do you share his concerns, Firefly?“

Firefly...

It has been quite a while since she had last heard the nickname her master had bestowed upon her.

Another hint...another pull.

She could feel Salem’s desires curse through her, as she almost skipped into the older woman’s waiting embrace. Leaning in she stood on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss onto her older woman‘s soft lips.

Crimson eyes lit up and immediately deepened the kiss...their connection, sweeping everything else away. Only at the edge of her mind did she register her cape being swept aside, as her bodysuit opened wide enough to reveal her partially scarred emblem on her otherwise smooth skin.

Breaking apart, Salem rested her head on Cinder‘s shoulder, her next words nothing more than a whisper, allowed for her ears only.

“What do you feel, Firefly?“

Fire.

Hunger.

Burning.

Craving.

“You!“

Her master hummed contently at her answer, letting her hands trail over the maiden’s back lovingly, while kissing her neck. Cinder couldn’t stop the purr from escaping her throat.

She felt safe and warm, wondering why exactly Jaune’s presence had bothered her so much in the beginning. This was where she belonged.

Salem made her whole.

“Now would you look at that?

It seems like it does excite you after all.“

Blinking owlishly the maiden peered at the boy to figure out what her master was talking about. She was almost frustrated about the interruption when she finally spotted it...her gaze dropping to the proud embodiment of his obvious arousal. Her face grew hot once more when she realized the state of her own dress and how it related to the situation at hand.

“T-that’s just my...body, I-“, Jaune stuttered, desperately trying to close his legs in a futile attempt to conceal himself, his eyes meeting Cinder‘s almost involuntary.

Salem chuckled at that, still running her hand over the maiden’s bareback, pushing her closer to the chair, as if to put her on display.

“There is no need to deny your obvious attraction.

Cinder is a very beautiful girl after all.“

As if to accentuate her words, her master spun her around, revealing her supple breasts to the boy, causing her to gasp in surprise.

“S-stop that! You’re...you‘re forcing this on...her.“

And yet he couldn’t seem to avert his gaze from Cinder, his eyes darkening slightly, as he watched helplessly how Salem gently fondled her round mounds.

While trying to chastise him no less.

“You can’t possibly hope to grasp the full extent, the meaning of our relationship, boy.“

This time the maiden couldn’t suppress the whimper as her nipple was teased oh so lightly.

Why...why did Salem…?

“This recklessness of yours is the same that her soulmate displayed.

Needless to say she paid the price for that.“

‘Ah…‘

So this was about her again.

Jaune‘s legs twitched nervously, as he stopped himself from thrusting his hips, Cinder being so close to him right now that he may have been able to grace her with his tip.

With obvious hesitation he managed to tear his gaze away from the maiden’s breasts, focusing on her face.

“You‘re...soulmate?“, he all but whispered.

Something inside Cinder shifted, her gaze clouding over as she assessed the situation. Throwing a quick glance back towards Salem she spotted an all too familiar smile...one that made her absolutely drunk on power.

Oh how she loved feeling like this.

Being this connected…

Leaning forward she straddled the boys lap, running circles over his shoulder blades, humming softly at each suppressed moan she earned when she rocked against him.

“Do you believe in destiny?“, she whispered against his lips, nipping playfully at his lower lip. Her right hand trailed over his toned stomach towards his erect member, giving it a nudge, as she observed Jaune’s face being split between pleasure and horror.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. Did dear Pyrrha never reveal the truth to you?

She was mine, all along all mine and yet I killed her.

I chose my own destiny and now I‘m living it...without her.“

Her hand closed around his shaft, pumping it up and down with each sentence, earning her a soft groan from the boy beneath her, whose hips moved slowly to match the movement of her hand.

“I-I...you must have felt something for her.“ He still tried his hardest to get through to her, even while in the throes of passion.

“I know Pyrrha, if you truly are her soulmate...then...you just must have...“

Do you believe in destiny?

For only a moment Cinder could feel herself falter, lost by the memories of Pyrrha‘s last words...the acceptance...the hurt...her soulmate…

Hers!

And because of her she was gone...forever.

“I...did…“, she murmured almost absentmindedly.

All of a sudden she had the urge to hug Jaune close, to hide, to cry...but as soon as she felt a cool slender hand on her back, every trace of that weakness was immediately washed away.

Curling her lips into a mean smile, her other hand massaging the boy‘s balls, causing his eyes to roll back and his breath to hitch, as he moaned loudly.

“I felt her warmth underneath my hand when I burned her from the inside out.“

She sucked at the tender flesh of his neck hard enough to bruise as she sped up her pace, both of her hands working in tandem. Even hearing those words Jaune couldn’t seem to stop his hips from chasing after every friction he could get.

“I felt her slip away and scatter through the wind like ashes of nothingness.“

Licking the outer shell of his ear she grinded her own core against his member, feeling it hot and pulsing against her abdomen, as it tasted the softness of her skin. The way Jaune’s hips jolted almost out of the seat only made her quicken the pace even more, her breasts pressing against his naked chest, as she rode him.

“I felt how the life was drained from her entire being and her forest green eyes glossed over.“

With a painful grunt, she could feel him stiffen against her, as his seed spilled out against his heaving chest, his eyes squeezed close, a relieved expression adorning his face...until his gaze found Cinder‘s once more.

With a quiet chuckle she sat back up, adjusting her clothes, while mustering her work.

“I took something from you that was never even yours to begin with.“

She didn’t even quite know what she was referring to herself…

The high slowly began to ebb away...leaving a somewhat hollow feeling in its wake.

“...you...you‘re a monster...“

You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

His words managed to shatter any remaining peace she still had left.

Why...where those tears?

What…

She wasn’t able to sort through her turbulent thoughts before Salem invaded her personal space again, massaging the nape of her neck.

“Better.“

Arching subconsciously into the touch she chased the doubts away, while listening to Salem’s soothing voice.

...of course, it may only be soothing to her in general.

“I believe he may have understood the foolishness of his demands now.

But did you?

Did you understand what I wanted to teach you with this?“

“Never underestimate the usefulness of others?“, Cinder couldn’t help but answer playfully.

Her master sighed, but the amusement never left her crimson eyes, as she shook her head.

“My terrible, defiant girl.“

With a pout she nuzzled against Salem‘s cheek.

“How...not to kill them?“

“Try again.

You know how.“

Sighing loudly she searched herself.

The reason, the lesson, her desires, Salem...it all mingled together.

The process wasn’t painful, but it was always leaving her disoriented afterwards

Cinder felt it, the moment their hearts followed the same rhythm, the moment individuality ceased to exist.

“Break“

“Correct.“

The voice startled the Maiden out of her concentration, as she peered up at her master with a weak smile.

“And you did it so effortlessly right now.“

Did she?

‘Yes...‘

But was that truly...just her?

She knew what she agreed to back then...still...sometimes it scared her.

If you so desire, I will save you, child.

He said it’s impossible though...

Nothing is ever truly impossible.

It only depends on what you are willing to sacrifice to see your wishes fulfilled.

With a quick, but tender kiss to her forehead Salem swept through the room, excusing herself amicably from the captive still bound to the chair.

“I hope you will rethink your priorities now and decide to take my generous offer. There is nothing for you to gain by refusing.“

She laughed cruelly, as she ruffled through his blonde hair.

“Maybe young Cinder wishes to play with you further.

I will see you in the morning.“

With those words she disappeared out of their sights, leaving Cinder, as bewildered as ever.

All of Salem’s lessons had that kind of effect on her.

She had no intention of playing with him like Salem had suggested.

She felt...

‘Drained‘

The maiden had avoided talking about her soulmate in general. It had been a sore subject between her and Salem for quite some time.

If she had only stayed out of her way at Beacon, the redhead would still be alive and Cinder...

Cinder wouldn’t need to feel-

‘Enough!‘

With a frustrated huff she turned towards the door as well. There was no use to ponder over such things. The past was the past.

“When I think of destiny, I don’t think of a predetermined fate you can’t escape, but rather some sort of final goal. Something you‘ve worked for your entire life.“

Cinder’s eye flittered back to the still crying boy in the chair.

His voice nothing more than a mumble, but she managed to catch it anyways.

“That’s what she, what Pyrrha believed.“

Of course, her soulmate...

’Again...‘

Clenching her hands into fists, she tried to find the same icy fire from before to destroy the boy in front of her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Then she was wrong!“

Her voice sounded more convinced than she actually felt, yet it did nothing to quell the sudden spark that returned to Jaune‘s eyes, as he slowly shook his head.

“I trust in Pyrrha“, he croaked out, his voice cracking, “If she tried to reach you, if you truly are her soulmate I will do so as well.“

‘What?‘

After what she just did to him?

How absurd.

Utterly ridiculous.

Wh-

The audacity!

Cinder’s aura flared up on its own accord, as her thoughts and feelings once again became a muddled mess, a cruel smile spreading over her features. Leaning forward she tilted Jaune’s head upwards, her next words spilling out before she could truly think them through.

“You are wrong, too!“

#cinder fall #salem rwby #jaune ark #rwby #n/sfw #witchfire #knightfall #fanfic

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feferipeixes · 5 years ago

Note

Light quarantine - Mabel noticed the small clues, an occasional pine car refresher that appears in her backpack, or whispers in her dreams, gibberish, but familiar. Or the beat up old star hat stuck in a tree across the street. She saw her brother die, but she wonders, maybe it wasn't what it seemed. After all, magic was everywhere now. She makes it her job to know everything about the supernatural, the dead, and Bill Cipher. She's going to find out what happened, I matter who thinks she's crazy

(other posts about Quarantine AU)

!!!! YESSSSS ANON I LOVE THIS

Dipper goes around leaving small clues for Mabel to find, not necessarily because he thinks she’ll figure out what’s going on (and certainly not because he thinks he’s worth being loved again) but because he just wants to help her out and do nice things (and ignore the voice in his head that says well if you care about her so much then you can’t really be such a monster right?). But you’re totally right, Mabel’s a smart cookie, she’d notice something was going on.

That time a skunk crawled into her car and died under the seat so the entire car smelled of skunk (and even though Stan insisted he was a tough guy who could handle anything, it still made him feel like puking)? A bunch of air fresheners appear in the car smelling of pine needles, because that dork isn’t subtle and likes to stick to his motifs. All those times Mabel was so close to getting impaled by a unicorn in her dreams, only to be saved by a dark figure who refused to make eye contact with her? She always felt like it was whispering something like “I miss you” but that made no sense right? When Acacia gets gum in her hair on School Photo Day and was thiiiiiiiis close to shaving her hair off just to save the embarrassment? A hat with a star on it appears in her locker, and it’s old and beat up but she likes it a lot and is very proud of the picture. She takes it home to show her mom who’s flabbergasted -- she hasn’t seen that hat for so long.

By that point I think she’s deeply invested in researching the paranormal. This is great, actually, because without Dipper around and being a demon, she has less reason in light Quarantine to be so heavily involved in the paranormal, but the fact that little clues and favors that seem to be related to her brother keep popping up... that’s gotta get her curious. And that starts long before she has her kids, but the thing that absolutely cinches it is when Willow is born safe and sound -- the doctor told her it’d honestly be unlikely that there wouldn’t be a birth complication with triplets, but somehow everything was fine. And later on she develops fire powers and complains about headaches from seeing colors and well at that point the supernatural research isn’t just for her curiosity, it’s to make sure she can best provide for her daughter’s needs.

(Sidenote; my hc is that Willow survives in light Quarantine even though Henry and Stan never make the deal with Dipper, because he saves her using excess power that he gets from deals. And he blames himself all the while saying that he’s being selfish and he’s just playing up this foolish act of pretending to be a nice person, but when Mabel finds out that he was the one who saved her daughter’s life she’s OVER THE MOON with joy. Not only is her beloved brother alive but he’s the reason she didn’t lose a child. Meeting up with him again is the happiest day ever.)

I’m getting off track lol but yeah basically, early on Mabel notices this stuff and gets curious. Maybe this is why she moves to Gravity Falls. She never had a falling out with her parents in this timeline but she’s so gosh darn curious, all these clues have to mean something, and where was it that this all began? Gravity Falls -- it’s where Dipper died after all, heck it’s where Ford lives, likely the most knowledgable person in the world about the supernatural. So after high school she moves to Gravity Falls against her parents’ wishes. They don’t think it’s safe there -- I mean, how could they, after what happened to their son? -- but they can’t stop her. She’s an adult now. She’s going to live with family. She got into a school there. And she’s full of fiery hot curiosity.

Mabel tells Ford about all the weird stuff she’s been noticing. About her theories about Bill, and Dipper, and the Transcendence. About how she sometimes still feels Bill’s presence late at night. About how she keeps seeing Dipper out of the corner of her eye in her saddest moments. About how she knows these things are linked and she just needs to find out how, and could she borrow his journals pretty pretty please? Ford doesn’t tell her anything about the demon he met right after the Transcendence, nor what person that demon bore a striking resemblance to. He gives her journals 1-3, but not 4, the one he started to document his research on the paranormal -- particularly demons -- since the Transcendence. Unlike in the show, he never really learns the lesson that “trust no one” isn’t a philosophy that works out. That really comes to bite him in the butt in this timeline.

#gravity falls #transcendence au #quarantine au #long post #my stuff

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catloud · 5 years ago

Text

Greta Gerwig is The Best One

I grew up loving, living and breathing two films: Little Women, with a wild and passionate Winona Ryder, and Emma Thompson’s Sense and Sensibility. The middle of three sisters, I saw our dynamic as a trio in both of them. We cast ourselves as these women, making our own Pickwick Papers and putting on plays in the garden, just like our beloved March sisters. My own teenage solitude revolved around moody walks in the hills near my house on a Scottish island, calling Willoughby’s name in the rain, usually to the soundtrack of Greenday or Alanis Morisette or Damien Rice. These were the raw materials I had to craft my identity with. Sisters. Sisterhood. Love. Passion. Power. Freedom.

And, just as I was conditioned to pick a favourite Spice Girl or colour of Starburst, I immediately made Jo and Marianne my respective LW and S&S favourites. But Jo is something special. She is, after all, the patron saint of all aspiring writers and country bumpkins who move to the city for adventure. I feel that.

I know there’s something about Jo. Why did I make her The Best One?

What about Meg? Lovely Meg! Naturally maternal and equal parts severe, sensible and sweet, she gracefully bears the burdens of societal pressure and familial responsibility as the pioneering eldest child, while also taking responsibility for wrangling her more wayward sisters. She is a Mini Marmee, and lord knows we all love Marmee.

Or gentle Beth, wistful and musical, always striving to keep the peace between more the more overwhelming personalities within the household, and trying to make the world a better place for those less fortunate in times of extreme uncertainty. She loves everyone and everyone loves her.

Or Amy? Artistic and refined Amy, who matches Jo in talent and strength of will but is a thousand times more socially savvy. She makes the rules of the world (for women like her) work as she intuitively knows how to wield and tame them, while Jo fights them kicking and screaming all the way.

The March sisters are timeless because they pose a question that has refused to leave me alone – what am I supposed to want? Jo is our natural Girl Power era heroine. She is all of the great feminist moments in one person. She’s Jane Fonda getting arrested at a protest. She’s telling a mansplainer to shut the fuck up. She’s not taking “because you’re a woman” for an answer, ever.

She’s wild and proud, recklessly emotional and deeply ambitious. And there it is. Ambition. The most masculine of fatal flaws that is at first admirable before it devours everything in its path, stopping at nothing till the whole world has been swallowed and spat out again.

We can’t all be Jos. Stoking and sustaining that level of craving and chasing is absolutely exhausting. And when what you want comes to you, and comes crashing down again because nothing is forever, then you’ll see the holes left behind. Creative projects and the pursuit of the next thing can be Polyfilla for the gaping, untreated hole left by perpetual loneliness. No one wants to look into its mouth for long, and so the great cycle begins again.

And I think about this now, because Hollywood’s Remake Olympics feels necessary this time. I need to see Jo again.

I find myself thirty, solo and skint. I have yet to find a like-minded soul who is more Alcott’s Laurie and less Austen’s Willoughby, and I’ve spent most of my twenties pursuing a career that I have loved but I’m convinced hasn’t loved me. I’ve hunted opportunities, scraped by when cash was tight with a knot in my stomach and instead of chasing something brilliant and wonderful, I have been obsessed with not failing. Failing isn’t an option. I don’t know what else to be instead.

Why was my hometown not enough?

Why did I have to want more?

These questions are Greta Gerwig’s territory, an artist who has made herself very much at home with stories about women at crossroads who sense good things on the horizon, but struggle to get their bearings. She is an artist I watch with so much strange pride, horrified that so few women are staking claims and taking names in a director’s chair and yet, there she is. There she has been, for years.

As a writer and as a performer, Gerwig understands how painful it is to be in a perpetual state of becoming. Frances Ha - the 2012 film she starred in and co-wrote with director Noah Baumbach - is a masterpiece. I resisted watching it for years, because I was scared of seeing myself in it. I was right, but I didn’t need to be scared. It’s filled with the same mundane intimacy in Little Women - girls sitting in bed together, making plans for a big, varied, wild life. Gerwig and Alcott write love stories about wanting to love life and have life love you back. Her eponymous character is the earnest, awkward and mis-stepping heart of a film that scrambles up the crushing economic realities of modern life with whimsical and chic French New Wave aesthetics, adding glimmers of Fame and Footloose for fun. “Scrambling” is the most appropriate adjective for her. A precariously-employed dancer, she tells successful and self-assured best friend Sophie in the film’s deeply intimate opening montage “I tried to make a frittata and it’s really more of a scramble”. And we all know you can’t make an omelette without cracking eggs. They feature again in her Oscar-nominated and Golden Globe-winning Lady Bird. Arguing with her mother, Saorise Ronan’s Christine/ Lady Bird asks why she can’t cook breakfast, to which the excellent Laurie Metcalf replies “Because you take too long and make a big mess and I have to clean the whole thing up.” Eggs. Metaphors for messy lives, and a nod to the mothers we came from. The mothers! They’re poets and they don’t even realise. I love Gerwig and Alcott’s big-hearted mothers, so afraid for wayward daughters who want more than they can provide and say things like “I didn’t raise you like this!” when they act up. When we act up. I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry.

At the helm of Lady Bird, Gerwig is even more masterful at painting sisterhood and choices with a bold intensity, coloured with vivid metaphorical visuals. Juxtaposing the joy of a first kiss with a hushed conversation about tight finances gives economic hardship and anxiety the same weight in the drama as romantic entanglements. Lady Bird’s mother is often visibly crushed by her daughter’s ungrateful and embarrassed recognition that they aren’t wealthy, and “wrong side of the tracks” cliches are shown to be careless, throw away words for painful and inescapable realities. Gerwig crafts anxious and relatable narratives around being economically downtrodden and feeling less sure-footed in the face of those who have hit certain milestones. Her work is peppered with the many little audacious deceptions we pull off that conceal deep-rooted despair; the greater truths can be reached when we take sex out of the equation, or throw it in; the sorrow of being left behind. But she always gives us joy, too. Writing the names of boys we love on the wall and painting over them when don’t anymore. Going to view houses, trying on other lives for fun, because it’s wonderful and poignant to deliberately get lost in the woods to simply feel every now and then.

She makes me nostalgic for that particular sweet spot in my adolescence. There is so much I hated about being a teenager, but I was restless and hungry and I miss that person. I still want to believe that the world is full and vibrant, and that I deserve a slice of it nut sometimes I fear that I will never feel brave or excited again. But Gerwig is familiar with this feeling and Little Women, in essence, explores all of these fears. Her films show women living their lives differently and overcoming the battles that ensue, and this makes her the perfect wrangler for the March sisters, each with their own diverging life paths but all of them equally valid.

Of course, to call it an exploration of modern feminism isn’t wholly true. Feminism that isn’t intersectional isn’t feminism and Little Women as a historical piece is incredibly white and heteronormative. But, there are lessons to be learned about what being a woman today looks like. It takes guts to be a mother and raise children, or to pursue the life you desire even if it takes you thousands of miles from what you know and who you love. She understands that choosing a creative career - and continuing to choose it in the face of all its difficulties – is to peer into the lion’s mouth. Her films have a simmering undercurrent that points a finger directly at the harsh reality and unspoken acceptance that art is for the rich, and the pursuit of culture indicates a sense of superiority or reaching above station. And it will always take courage to break free from expectations, even if those expectations come from the people you love most.

I refuse to pick a favourite this time.

Meg March is coming home.

Beth March is your favourite album on vinyl.

Amy March is playing poker, and winning.

And Jo? Jo March is every foolish text and all sparkling, heartfelt conversations.

If I have to pick My Best One, it’s Gerwig herself. She is a storyteller who handles life’s tiny disappointments and triumphs like precious ornaments. She is a master of making mountains out of moments, of carefully handling stories that give women space to live untidily and brilliantly, of big and small rituals we do to root the person we’re becoming to the person we used to be, and to the people, places and things we’ve loved, always.

I feel safe in her hands. I couldn’t trust my March sisters to anyone less worthy, and I can’t wait to see these women I love through her imaginative, sensitive and determined eyes.

#Greta Gerwig #Little Women #Jane Austen #Jo March #filmmaking #sisterhood #feminism #film #nostalgia

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dfroza · 2 years ago

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“because we are joined by faith as family, and your faith is spreading across the world.”

A conservation work

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 1st chapter of the letter of Romans:

Paul, a servant of Jesus the Anointed called by God to be His emissary and appointed to tell the good news of the things promised long ago by God, spoken by prophets, and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. All of this good news is about His Son: who was (from a human perspective) born of David’s royal line and ultimately designated to be the true Son of God with power upon His resurrection from the dead by the Spirit of holiness. I am speaking of Jesus, the Anointed One, our Lord.

And here’s what He’s done: He has graced us and sanctioned us as His emissaries whose mission is to spread the one true and obedient faith to all people in the name of Jesus. This includes you: you have been called by Jesus, God’s Anointed.

To all those who are God’s beloved saints in Rome:

May grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, surround you.

First, I thank my God through Jesus the Anointed for all of you because we are joined by faith as family, and your faith is spreading across the world. For I call God as my witness—whom I worship in my spirit and serve in making known the gospel—He alone knows how often I mention you in my prayers. I find myself constantly praying for you and hoping it’s in God’s will for me to be with you soon. I desperately want to see you so that I can share some gift of the Spirit to strengthen you. Plus I know that when we come together something beautiful will happen as we are encouraged by each other’s faith.

If, my brothers and sisters, you did not already know, my plans were set to meet you in Rome, but time and circumstances have forced every trip to be canceled until now. I have deeply desired to see some good fruit among you just as I have seen with so many non-Jewish believers. You see, I am in tremendous debt to those of various nationalities, from non-Jews to barbarians, from the wisest of the wise to the idle wanderer. So you can imagine how eager I am to join you and to teach the good news in the mighty and diverse city of Rome.

For I am not the least bit embarrassed about the gospel. I won’t shy away from it, because it is God’s power to save every person who believes: first the Jew, and then the non-Jew. You see, in the good news, God’s restorative justice is revealed. And as we will see, it begins with and ends in faith. As the Scripture declares, “By faith the just will obtain life.”

For the wrath of God is breaking through from heaven, opposing all manifestations of ungodliness and wickedness by the people who do wrong to keep God’s truth in check. These people are not ignorant about what can be known of God, because He has shown it to them with great clarity. From the beginning, creation in its magnificence enlightens us to His nature. Creation itself makes His undying power and divine identity clear, even though they are invisible; and it voids the excuses and ignorant claims of these people because, despite the fact that they knew the one true God, they have failed to show the love, honor, and appreciation due to the One who created them! Instead, their lives are consumed by vain thoughts that poison their foolish hearts. They claim to be wise; but they have been exposed as fools, frauds, and con artists— only a fool would trade the splendor and beauty of the immortal God to worship images of the common man or woman, bird or reptile, or the next beast that tromps along.

So God gave them just what their lustful hearts desired. As a result, they violated their bodies and invited shame into their lives. How? By choosing a foolish lie over God’s truth. They gave their lives and devotion to the creature rather than to the Creator Himself, who is blessed forever and ever. Amen. This is why God released them to their own vile pursuits, and this is what happened: they chose sexual counterfeits—women had sexual relations with other women and men committed unnatural, shameful acts because they burned with lust for other men. This sin was rife, and they suffered painful consequences.

Since they had no mind to recognize God, He turned them loose to follow the unseemly designs of their depraved minds and to do things that should not be done. Their days are filled with all sorts of godless living, wicked schemes, greed, hatred, endless desire for more, murder, violence, deceit, and spitefulness. And, as if that were not enough, they are gossiping, slanderous, God-hating, rude, egotistical, smug people who are always coming up with even more dreadful ways to treat one another. They don’t listen to their parents; they lack understanding and character. They are simple-minded, covenant-breaking, heartless, and unmerciful; they are not to be trusted. Despite the fact that they are fully aware that God’s law says this way of life deserves death, they fail to stop. And worse—they applaud others on this destructive path.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

regardless of what people think about gender and sexuality, every person on earth is conceived either male or female by their earthly parents (a mother & father’s combined “egg and seed”) and it is impossible to choose or to change anyone’s given gender, no matter what is done to the physical body. and it is sinful behavior to have sex with anyone outside the sacred marital bond (covenant) of husband & wife, which is the definition of marriage by our Creator’s design. becoming as “One” body with another is only possible between a man and a woman who are free to share themselves sexually. virginity is pure just as the “marriage bed” is pure. this is the way of the children of Light as True daughters & sons of our heavenly Father, reborn through grace (by faith) in the Son.

the spiritual truth of this doesn’t change with the world.

A note from the Voice:

According to Paul, in and by itself, the gospel is power—God’s power. The simple message of Jesus brings healing and rescue to all people. It starts with God’s people, the Jews, but does not end until all people hear and respond to its call.

The gospel reveals how right and faithful God has been all along. It begins with God’s faithfulness to His creation and His covenant people. Then God acts, finally and decisively, in the cross of Jesus. For Paul the cross, more than any other event, displays Jesus’ faithfulness to God the Father. As the Gospels tell us, in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus entrusts Himself completely to God’s will. As a result, this good news brings faith and hope to those who hear and respond to its elegant message. Because God is faithful, He acts in a most extraordinary way. Somehow in the scandal of the cross, He offers His own Son in order to redeem the fallen world.

The prophets express God’s mind and will in the world. Sometimes their messages are a word-on-target to the people and powers of their day; at other times, they see and speak about the future. Their words not only predict the future—they speak the word of the Lord, which creates reality and shapes the future.

Paul describes the gospel of Jesus by bringing in the good news on two levels: On a human level, the good news is about God’s Son, David’s descendant, entering the world to begin the task of restoring it from the damage sin and death have left behind. But the resurrection of Jesus from the dead takes Jesus’ sonship to a new level. Now He is the Son-of-God-in-Power, the One called Lord and Master.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 23rd chapter of the book of 2nd Samuel where David reflects upon the covenant God made with him:

Here are the last words of David, son of Jesse: the words of the one raised up, the anointed one of Jacob’s True God, the sweet songwriter of Israel.

David: The Spirit of the Eternal speaks through me;

His voice emerges from my mouth.

The God of Israel has talked to me;

and the Rock of Israel said,

“One who rules people with justice

and who leads them in the fear of God

Is like the morning light,

the sun rising on a cloudless morning,

and the shining grasslands brought up from rain.”

Isn’t this how God has raised up my house?

Because He has made a perpetual covenant with me,

well-ordered and secure,

Won’t He make all things to grow and prosper,

save me, and give me all I desire?

But the wicked are like thorns cut off and tossed away

that can’t be picked up with your hands;

No, to touch them, use the iron tip

on the shaft of a spear.

They are burned up on the spot.

Here is a list of the warriors who fought for David:

Josheb-basshebeth the Tahchemonite was the most powerful of David’s three most-honored warriors; he took up his spear and killed 800 in one battle.

The next of David’s three mighty men was Eleazar, son of Dodo of Ahohi. Eleazar stood with David when they defied the Philistines who had gathered there to fight. The Israelites retreated, but Eleazar stood his ground. He killed Philistine soldiers that day until his arm grew tired, but he never dropped his sword. The Eternal One gave them a decisive victory that day; and then the people came back, only to pillage the fallen.

Last of these top three was Shammah, son of Agee of Harar. The Philistines gathered at Lehi where there was a field full of lentils, and the Israelites fled from them. But Shammah stood in the center of the field and fought, killing many Philistines; and the Eternal gave His people a great victory.

At the beginning of harvest, these top three of David’s thirty chief warriors joined David at the cave of Adullam. A group of Philistines was camped in the valley of Rephaim, David was hiding in his safe place, and the main force of the Philistines was quartered in Bethlehem.

David (with longing): I wish someone would bring me some water to drink from the well of Bethlehem by the gate!

So these three mighty men broke through the nearby camp of the Philistines, drew water from the Bethlehem well that was by the gate, and brought it back for David. But he would not drink it; instead he poured it out, although he was parched with thirst, as a drink offering to the Eternal One.

David: O Eternal God, I have no right to drink this water. It would be like drinking the blood of the men who risked their lives for it!

So he did not drink it. This is the kind of thing the three mighty men did for David.

Besides the three highest ranking soldiers, there was Abishai (Zeruiah’s son and the brother of Joab), who was commander of the elite force of 30. With his spear he killed 300 men in battle and won honor as the three did. Abishai was the most honored of the 30 and became their commander, but he did not become one of the three.

And there was Benaiah (Jehoiada’s son), son of a great man from Kabzeel, who also did great deeds. He struck down two lionhearted heroes of Moab. Benaiah also killed a lion in a pit one snowy day, and he killed an Egyptian who was a powerful-looking man. The Egyptian was armed with a spear while Benaiah had only his staff, but he took the spear away from him and killed the Egyptian with his own weapon. These were the kinds of feats Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada, performed that won him a name equal to the three mighty men for bravery. He was famous among the 30, but never became one of the three. David made him the captain of his personal guard.

These are the warriors who were counted among the 30: Asahel, Joab’s brother; Elhanan, son of Dodo of Bethlehem; Shammah of Harod; Elika of Harod; Helez the Paltite; Ira, son of Ikkesh of Tekoa; Abiezer of Anathoth; Mebunnai the Hushathite; Zalmon the Ahohite; Maharai of Netophah; Heleb, son of Baanah of Netophah; Ittai, son of Ribai of Gibeah in Benjamin; Benaiah of Pirathon; Hiddai of the waters of Gaash; Abi-albon the Arbathite; Azmaveth of Barhum; Eliahba of Shaalbon; Jashen the Gimzonite; Jonathan, son of Shammah of Harar; Ahiam, son of Sharar of Harar; Eliphelet, son of Ahasbai of Maacah; Eliam, son of Ahithophel the Gilonite; Hezro of Carmel; Paarai the Arbite; Igal, son of Nathan of Zobah; Bani the Gadite; Zelek the Ammonite; Naharai of Beeroth; the armor-bearer of Joab, Zeruiah’s son; Ira the Ithrite; Gareb the Ithrite; Uriah the Hittite—37 men in all who were counted among the 30.

The Book of 2nd Samuel, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice:

David has been brought up from his position as a lowly shepherd, the youngest son in the household, to the pinnacle of success by his faith in God and his own willingness to follow God. It has been an adventure fraught with danger and intrigue, and marked with loss and heartbreak along the way. David’s own failings find themselves reflected—and magnified—in his children. But here is one of the high points of the story of the people of God, united at last under a powerful and beloved king, and victorious against their enemies.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, november 30 of 2022 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about seeking and finding:

“Without faith it is *impossible to please God, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him” (Heb. 11:6). Note that the word translated “impossible” in this verse (ἀδύνατος) means powerless, incapable, and so on, which implies that faith is the key that opens the door to God’s presence. It is not possible to relate to God, after all, if you do not trust in his Reality and concern for your life. Indeed confidence in God’s promises is the foundation of everything; it is the source of your inner life connection and the answer to your prayer for healing. As our LORD Yeshua said: “Take heart; your faith has made you whole” (Matt. 9:22).

God *rewards those who earnestly seek him. This hearkens to the promise made to our father Abraham: אל־תִּירָא אַבְרָם - "Fear not, Abram,” אָנכִי מָגֵן לָךְ – “I am your Shield,” שְׂכָרְךָ הַרְבֵּה מְאד - your reward shall be very great" (Gen. 15:1). “For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk in trust” (Psalm 84:11). God imparts favor to those who honestly seek Him, as it is written: “and you will seek me, and find me, when you shall search for me bekhol levavkha - with all your heart” (Jer. 29:13). "With all your heart" -- with both your "good" heart and with your "evil" heart -- that is, with all that is within you shall you seek... You don't wait until you are "cleaned up" to reach out to God, but come “just as you are” -- in the midst of the messiness and sin of your life. That is the teshuvah (answer) to God’s haunting question regarding your life; you find “all your heart” as you seek God’s presence in all your ways (Prov. 3:6). Faith is its own reward since it imparts the blessing of Reality. The Greek word used to translate “those who seek” is a present active participle (ἐκζητοῦσιν) that refers to those who continue to search for God’s Presence and truth - even in the midst of the struggle of life. Like the prophet Enoch, this is the way to “walk with God.” So do not lose heart or throw away your confidence, dear friend, because it has great reward (Heb. 10:35). [Hebrew for Christians]

========

Jer. 29:13 Hebrew read:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer29-13-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer29-13-lesson.pdf

and another about facing fear:

“O GOD the Lord, the strength of my salvation, you have covered my head in the day of battle” (Psalm 140:7). We are in the midst of a great war for the sanctity of our souls, and the enemy is always fear. Fear amplifies our anxieties and magnifies our problems, since it heeds messages of unbelief and justifies despair. We must understand that fear is a false witness - an emissary that gainsays the truth and denies the power of God. In your struggle with fearful thoughts, take every thought captive and resolutely put your trust in the Lord. He will “cover your head” in the midst of the battle. Amen. "Confidence is the present tense of hope." [Hebrew for Christians]

========

Psalm 140:7 Hebrew read:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm140-7-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm140-7-lesson.pdf

11.28.22 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

November 30, 2022

He Is Able

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” (Ephesians 3:20)

Despite man’s arrogant pride, he is utterly unable to save himself or to make himself acceptable to God. Neither is he able to keep himself saved nor, above all, is he able to defeat sin and conquer death.

But God is able! The word “able” (Greek dunamai) is closely related to the word for “power” (Greek dunamis), both speaking of God’s spiritual dynamics. He is all-powerful, His ability is without limit, and His power “works in us”!

Therefore, “he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him” (Hebrews 7:25). Because the gospel of Christ is the “power of God unto salvation” (Romans 1:16), God “is of power to stablish you according to my gospel” (Romans 16:25).

Even when great troubles and sorrows and temptations come, He is able. “For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted” (Hebrews 2:18). He “is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy” (Jude 1:24).

In fact, He is able to meet every need of our lives and even to use us in His service. “God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work” (2 Corinthians 9:8).

Finally, “he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day” (2 Timothy 1:12). That day will surely come, but then He will give us bodies of glory, for “he is able even to subdue all things unto himself” (Philippians 3:21). HMM

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thesundanceghost · 7 years ago

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new to this

This is 4000 words Max + Lucas friendship with a lot of Max/Dustin and Will/Lucas background. It takes place when they’re around sophomores in high school.

Max’s elbow was stinging like a son of a bitch and her wrist was aching and it was all because of Dustin Henderson. Dustin fucking Henderson and his stupid smile.

“Shit, shit,” Dustin muttered as he threw down his bike on the grass and knelt beside her, looking at her arm in concern. She’d always loved teasing him about how serious he got about injuries, always calling him Nurse Dustin for fun (even though she really did think he’d be a good nurse). But now she didn’t find it funny at all, not when he was making it worse by making it nearly impossible for her to breathe properly.

It had been a stupid mistake. She knew how to do that trick; she’d mastered it earlier that week and gotten it down perfectly. But she’d made the terrible and foolish decision of looking over at Dustin in the midst of the execution, and suddenly all she could think about was wow, how have I never noticed his dimples before?!

And then her board had hit the ground without her feet and then all she’d been thinking was shit I’m about to fall and then she’d done just that.

Max startled when Dustin reached out for her arm. He inspected it closely, dusting off some of the dirt and gravel that had stuck to it, and she just stared at him with wide eyes. He was so close to her and she felt like she was going to pass out.

“You should come inside, Mrs. Wheeler can--” Dustin started, but Max was speaking over him quickly.

“No!” She exclaimed, making Dustin look at her in surprise. She blinked at the eye contact before shaking her head and scrambling to her feet. Her elbow was still burning, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Like hell she was going to do anything that didn't involve getting the hell away from Dustin’s concerned expression. “It’s just… you guys should really work on that project. Will and Mike are waiting for you, and you don’t wanna fail. I was going to go to Lucas’ anyway, I can just wash it off over there.”

Dustin frowned and tilted his head at her like a puppy. “You sure?” he asked, sounding almost disappointed, and Max could barely meet his eyes.

“Yep,” she replied quickly, grabbing her board off the ground. “Good luck you guys!”

She turned and walked quickly to the blue house across the cul-de-sac, tensing when she heard Dustin yell out a “bye!” after her. Without looking back, she raised a hand in farewell, hoping he was already making his way into the Wheeler’s house.

His stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid smile.

She didn’t waste any time in knocking at the brown door of the Sinclair’s house, praying someone would answer quickly so she wouldn’t have to wait out here any longer.

“Oh, hello Max!” Dana Sinclair greeted happily as she opened the door, smiling down at her. Max gave a strained smile as she stared up at the tall woman. Despite how much her son had grown recently, he still hadn’t surpassed his mother, much to Lucas’ frustration and his friends’ amusement. “Are you joining us for dinner? We’re having chicken parmesan.”

“Hey Dana,” Max replied sheepishly. She was still reeling from earlier, and she tried to quickly gather her thoughts “Um, I actually was just in the neighborhood and I sorta fell? Do you have a Band-Aid?”

She raised up her elbow in explanation. Dana frowned momentarily before softening into an amused smile and gesturing inside.

“You kids never stop hurting yourselves do you?” She asked as she led Max into the front bathroom and rifled around in the cabinets. She turned on the tap water, gesturing for Max to wash off her scrape. “Lucas bruised his head climbing that tree not four days ago, it’s ridiculous.”

Max hid a smirk, knowing very well that Lucas had gotten that bruise climbing Will Byers’ window, not a tree, but she wasn’t about to spill that.

“Hey Mom, where’s the-- Max?” Lucas said from the doorway. Her eyes flew to her friend’s, who frowned over at her. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

She shrugged quickly, blushing slightly despite herself. “Fell off my board.”

Lucas chuckled, shaking his head. “Loser,” he shot out happily. Dana just rolled her eyes. Max knew she was more than used to the way they talked to each other. “You going over to Mike’s after this? I was thinking about hanging out over there, since Dustin and Will are over there anyway.”

“No!” Max exclaimed loudly, bringing both of the Sinclair’s eyes to her. She blushed at the attention, feeling embarrassed once again by her sudden exclamations. “I just… I haven’t gotten to eat over here in a while, and the others are still working on that English project so…”

She faded off, hoping the excuse was good enough. Lucas looked at her for a long time, and she tried to get her point across through simple eye contact. After a second he looked away, having given in. “Okay, whatever.”

Dana gave her an odd look but didn’t push, instead fishing out a bandage and finishing the job.

Dinner at the Sinclairs was amazing, as usual. Max always joked about liking Lucas’ parents more than she liked him, but even if it were true, it wouldn’t be without reason. Samuel Sinclair was one of the few men Max had ever come to truly respect in her life, managing to be both levelheaded and interesting at the same time. And Max honestly loved Dana Sinclair-- she was the first mother to actually give a damn about her and not read into her background, and Max would never forget that. Dana had once told Max she reminded her of her younger self, and Max had almost passed out from pride.

Lucas hadn’t talked much during dinner, instead spending most of his time trying to catch Max’s eye and give her weird glances. He clearly knew something was up with her, and she found herself annoyed that he knew her moods that well.

After helping load the dishwasher, Max finally let herself be pulled out of the room by Lucas.

“So, you’re acting weirder than usual,” Lucas said as soon as they were in his room. “Spill.”

Max glared at him and flopped down on his bed. “It’s not a big deal.”

Lucas just gave her a look and sat down on the other end of the mattress without a word.

They glared at each other for a long moment before Max finally broke. She looked away and stared at the bed as she played absentmindedly with the sheets.

“I…” She couldn’t the words so she decided suddenly to change tactics. “How did you know you liked Will?”

Lucas startled at the question, obviously surprised. “What?”

“Well it’s not like you always liked him like that,” Max pointed out. She made sure to keep her voice down so his parents wouldn’t overhear. “So how did you know you wanted to be more than friends with him?”

Lucas looked slightly uncomfortable at the topic-- he never much liked talking about what he had with Will, and Max wondered if they’d even really talked about it. Max felt like they were still in that stage of mutual affection with zero communication.

“I dunno,” Lucas answered with a frown. “I mean, it just sorta happened.”

Max frowned and decided to change her question.

“How did you know it was worth it, though?” Max asked. “I mean, aren’t you scared about risking what you already had?”

Lucas swallowed, looking uncomfortable. Max got the feeling he really was scared about that, and felt a twinge of regret at having asked.

“I guess, I mean--” Lucas broke off, giving a short shrug. “I trust Will. I know even if things didn’t work out, we wouldn’t lose everything. And it is worth it, I think. He’s worth it.”

Max was surprised at the answer. Lucas rarely talked that way about anything, and Max kept it in mind that she was really going to have to bug him for more information about him and Will later. But now Lucas was blinking up at her, looking suspicious.

Lucas blinked rapidly. “What is this about, anyway?”

Max blanched, feeling suddenly in the spotlight. She pulled a fluffy pillow in her lap, needing something to hold onto when she spoke up again.

“What if… what if someone liked someone else, you know like-- well, you know. But they were friends, and that person didn’t like that other person back, but they--”

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Lucas cut in, raising a hand. Max stopped talking immediately, her eyes shooting up to meet him, scared that he’d already figured it out. Lucas was frowning deeply and shook his head at her. “You’re giving me a headache with all those pronouns. I’m guessing you’re one of the ‘someone’s’ right?”

Max flushed hotly but gave a short nod, waiting for Lucas to continue.

“And the other person is a friend?” A nod. “One of our friends?” Another nod, though less confident.

“So, Dustin.” Lucas said.

Max felt her heart stop.

“What?! No, I--” she broke off at Lucas’ unimpressed look. He knew her way too well for her to get away with this lie. The fight left her and she slumped down, pulling at her hair in irritation. “How'd you know?”

Lucas snorted. “Dustin is the only one of us who gives actually decent relationship advice. If you had any sense you'd be talking to him about this, unless, obviously, it was about him.”

Max slumped in on herself even further, feeling embarrassed and dramatic. “Shit,” she whispered, only to regret it since she’d come to relate that word to Dustin.

Lucas gave her a sympathetic look. “When did you figure it out?”

Max sighed. “Today. Right before I came over.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Lucas said with a nod. He scrunched up his face like he was thinking hard. “Does Dustin know?”

“No!” Max exclaimed immediately before a terrible thought occurred to her. “Oh god, do you think he knows? Oh god.”

She hid her face in her hands. Why did people have crushes?! What good could possibly come from feeling this embarrassed and terrible?

“Max, calm down,” Lucas said with a slight chuckle. “It’s okay. It’s not like Dustin expects anything from you, he knows you don’t have to like him back or anything, he’s not gonna get mad if you don’t.”

Max froze, looking up slowly. “What did you just say?”

Lucas frowned, looking incredibly lost. “Well, I mean, he won’t be angry. He’s liked you for years--”

“Dustin-- likes me?!” Max exclaimed, nearly slipping off the bed. Lucas jumped, clearly taken aback by the exclamation.

“Well, yeah, isn’t that what we’ve been talking about this whole conversation?” Lucas threw back, looking around the room as if searching for someone to back him up.

“No,” Max emphasized. Her head was still spinning. Dustin liked… her? “We’ve been talking about me.”

“What do you mean we’ve been talking about you? I asked if it was Dustin, and--” Lucas broke off and a look of revelation came over his face. “Oh.”

“Oh my god,” Max groaned. She grabbed one of Lucas’ pillows and pressed it over her face. She wondered briefly how long it’d take her to smother herself.

“Oh,” Lucas repeated. “Well, maybe forget what I said a few seconds ago.”

Max pulled the pillow down, fixing him with a glare. Lucas looked rather sheepish at the spilled secret, but Max wasn’t letting him off the hook. “Dustin can’t possibly like me. There’s no way.”

“Are you serious?” Lucas asked. Each word was drawn out and lengthened like Lucas honestly couldn’t believe it.

Max looked at him with a blank expression, not understanding what he was getting at.

“Dustin has had a crush on you since the eighth grade,” Lucas explained slowly. Max blinked back dumbly.

“But… I thought you liked me in eighth grade,” Max said slowly.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah. But Dustin did too. You really didn’t notice?”

“But you and me, we went to that stupid dance together. Dustin really didn’t have a problem with that?” Max asked, unable to believe that. That wasn’t even mentioning the month after where and Lucas had practically been dating before deciding they were far too similar to ever work as anything more than friends.

Lucas just frowned. “He probably did. But he’s Dustin. You know how he is-- he’s like the least selfless person alive, especially when it comes to his friends.”

Max did know that. She’d been on the receiving side of Dustin’s generosity so many times over the past few years, and it made her slightly sick to think about, mostly because she was nothing like that. She couldn’t even compare to how kind and loving Dustin was. He was soft and comforting, and she was all hard edges, rough enough to cut yourself on. It didn’t make sense, the two of them.

“But… why wouldn’t he say anything?” Max asked, feeling extremely small. She hated the idea of Dustin feeling like this-- this terrible mixture of affection and happiness and nausea and fear. Is this how Dustin felt when he looked at her? Had he felt this way for years, like Lucas had said?

“It’s scary, to tell someone that when you don’t know if they like you back,” Lucas pointed out. “Besides, Dustin likes liking people. It makes him happy, even when they don’t feel the same. It’s weird, but it’s how he is.”

Max frowned at that. She didn’t know how anyone could actually enjoy this.

“So… you’re really into Dustin? For real?” Lucas asked after a moment of thought. His face was calm, but there was a spark in his eyes that made her feel like he was way too excited about this.

Max groaned, grabbing the pillow again to cover her voice.

“I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming,” Lucas continued, and yeah, he was definitely smiling by this point. “I mean, I’m totally for it, I think it’s great, but I always thought you’d fall for some like 6-foot-badass, not a 5-foot-8 geek who once spent an hour eating pizza toppings.”

Max pulled the pillow down just to look at Lucas. “Are you supposed to be the 6-foot-badass in this scenario?”

Lucas stuck his tongue out at her. Max snorted, feeling slightly better for a hot second before the feeling faded back into that gross nausea she’d felt before. She hugged the pillow closer to her chest, staring up at the dark blue ceiling with the glow in the dark stars that she and Lucas had put up there together years ago.

“Hey,” Lucas spoke up softly. He nudged her with his knee, but she didn’t dare look at him. She felt far too vulnerable at that moment. “What’s the matter? He likes you back-- that’s good right?”

Max felt her chest tighten, unable to keep the warm sickly sense of happiness from spreading through her at the words.

“I don’t deserve him,” she mumbled into the pillow, pressing her face into it hard. She regretted the words as soon as she said them, even if they were sort of true. She’d learned quickly three years ago that self-deprecation wasn’t the way to get these boys to agree with her.

Sure enough, the pillow was pulled away from her in a matter of seconds, Lucas’ aptly named “hard-ass” face staring down at her.

“Screw that,” he said decidedly. He was always good at that-- making things sound like facts no matter how ridiculous they were. “Dustin’s one of the best people I know, sure, but so are you.”

Max sat up, running her hands through her hair, pulling a bit too hard at some stubborn knots. “You have to say that,” she argued back.

“No I don’t,” Lucas threw back just as quickly. They glared at each other for a moment before Lucas, surprisingly, softened. He looked at her almost sadly, tilting his head to the side. “Max, you’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t. And Dustin wouldn’t be head over heels for you if you weren’t.”

Max bit her lip, looking away. She’d never been good at dealing with the confident, headstrong way Lucas Sinclair loved people. She’d never felt like she’d been worthy to be on this side of it. But she’d been friends with him for long enough to know logically that there had to be at least some amount of truth behind his words.

After a second of quiet she gave a tiny amused smile and glanced up.

“Head over heels?” Max mumbled in question, unable to keep the smile off her face. She felt like a lovestruck teenager, which she supposed was fitting. She really didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would.

Lucas snorted, shaking his head at her. “He looks at you like you’re the fucking sun, Max.”

Max smiled slowly despite herself. The happiness blooming in her chest was no longer paired with a sick unease. Instead it was bright, happy, calm-- the feelings that were rare enough in her life that she felt high on them now.

“Don’t get cocky, Max.”

“Say the guy who bragged for like thirty minutes right after he freaked out for an hour about kissing Will,” Max shot back without missing a beat.

Lucas opened his mouth to argue before falling into a smug smile. “Yeah well it was a really good kiss.”

“You’re full of shit, Sinclair,” Max laughed, swinging the pillow to hit his side. Lucas retaliated immediately with a pillow of his own, a grin on his face. Max tried to dodge his next hit but ended up almost falling off the bed, while Lucas just laughed at her. They continued on with their pillow fight for several minutes, and Max felt her fear and shame from earlier fade away as she laughed breathlessly.

“Uh, hello?”

Max and Lucas both stopped immediately at the voice, grinning over at a happy but confused Will Byers, who was standing in the doorway.

“Hey Will,” Lucas said immediately, brightening even more at the sight of the boy. “You guys finish the project?”

“Yeah,” Will said, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the foot of the bed. “I hope it’s okay, I don’t know if we really stuck to the directions.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Lucas said immediately. “You made it.”

Max rolled her eyes at that, but it made Will blush, so maybe Lucas was smoother than she thought. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and threw one last pillow at the pair of them, making them both look at her in surprise.

“Well I’m out of here,” she said, hopping off the bed.

Will frowned, biting his lip. “You don’t have to go just because I’m here.”

“I’m not,” Max assured him. She was, kind of, but she didn’t mind anyway. Lucas and Will didn’t get to spend a lot of one-on-one time together, since the Byers’ didn’t really like Will being that spontaneous. “I’ll see you losers tomorrow.”

Lucas stuck his tongue out at her but Will just smiled. “Oh hey, if you leave now you might catch Dustin, he was just leaving too.”

Max paused, not sure how she felt about that. She wondered if it was too late to change her mind about leaving, but she really didn’t want to explain that to Will. “Yeah, cool. Bye.”

She left quickly, giving one last wave to Lucas’ parents before stepping out into the chilly fall air. Her eyes found Dustin quickly, on his bike leaving the cul-de-sac. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw him. After a second, her mouth caught up to her brain.

“Hey, Henderson!” Max called over as she skated towards him. Dustin stopped, glancing over in confusion. When his eyes fell on her he broke into a wide smile, and Max felt a small spark light up in her chest at the sight.

“Hey Max,” Dustin grinned over at her, waiting for her to catch up. “How’s the arm?”

She flashed her elbow at him as she slowed to a stop. “I’ll live.”

Dustin chuckled. He pushed off the ground, pedaling slowly down the street and she followed. “Maybe you’ll get a cool scar and then you can come up with some gruesome mysterious story to tell people. Like you got attacked by a bear.”

Max laughed, thinking for a second. “I was abducted by aliens and escaped, but they had already started experimenting on me.”

Dustin cracked up at that. “Or maybe you got attacked by Cujo and barely managed to escape without getting bitten.”

Max grinned at him, unable to help herself as he continued to weave stories out of nowhere.

Dustin Henderson, with his offset smile and his chubby face and his stupid hat that always messed up his hair but he wore it anyway because he swore it was a lucky charm. Dustin Henderson, she decided, was way out of her league.

#lucas sinclair #max #dustin henderson #will byers #byclair #henderfield #emma writes

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imagine-loki · 8 years ago

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LOVE LIKE YOU

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: Tenshi-Holylight ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine singing “Love Like You” in the shower. Loki passes by the bathroom door and pauses, his ears catching the echoing melody from within. The lyrics move him deeply, and as he finds himself relating to them, he leans against the door and listens until you finish the song. RATING: K+ NOTES/WARNINGS: If someone hasn’t heard the song I’ll leave it HERE.

English isn’t my mother language so I apologize for grammatical mistakes.

It was a regular day in the avenger’s tower. After 2 hours of intense training Loki entered his room to pick some clean clothes and a towel, then made his way to the men’s room, hoping there was no one. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone and their foolishness.

If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love.

He could hear a soft voice coming from the women’s room. He immediately recognized your voice making him stop in front of the door. He didn’t expect you to have such a beautiful voice or have the hobby of singing in the shower.

When I see the way you act, Wondering when I’m coming back, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you. If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you. Love, like you…

The lyrics were beautiful and had him thinking in all the moments you spoke with him. Always being so nice and cheerful not like the others agents who just avoid him or gave him glares of hate or fear. He did not know why, at the start he thought it might be a trick from Fury.

After some time he discovered that was your normal demeanor. It bemuses him, but never demonstrated it. He remembered the first day he met you, you came out of the elevator frowning and talking upset on the phone.

“No Bob, just because I couldn’t use weapons that doesn’t mean is a tough mission”

A exasperate sigh left your lips. Then our glares meet, I was expecting the annoyed look when people saw me in the common room but instead you looked embarrassed.

“Oh, sorry I disturbed you” you said with a soft smile, walked to the fridge to get a beverage. Then returned to the elevator and wished me a nice day. She has been nice with me since that day.

I always thought I might be bad, Now I’m sure that it’s true ‘cause I think you’re so good And I’m nothing like you.

Look at you go, I just adore you, I wish that I knew What makes you think I’m so special

He couldn’t stop a soft smile, that was so true. He had done terrible things, made so many mistakes and yet you were the only being who still treats him with kindness and no forced smiles. He leans his forehead to the door and closed his eyes focusing on your voice and the meaning of that song.

He would never admit it, but he really cherishes the time you spent with him, even when you were just passing by to grab a snack or something to drink and wish him a “good day.” He wasn’t sure how to interact with you at the beginning, sometimes he just nodded his head when you greet him or respond you with a “good evening” or a “good morning” depending the time.

If I could begin to do Something that does right by you, I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love.

With the time your interactions proceeded to small conversations. The first conversation he had with you were when the agent Barton told Loki the ending of the book he was about to finish. The agent left with a wicked smile in his face, knowing he just ruined Loki’s day.

“Don’t listen to him” You said from the kitchen “He watched the movie, and like always Hollywood chanced the book’s ending to fit it in a 90 minutes movie.” Then looked at him with a big smile “I can assure you, the real ending is more dramatic.”

And it was. He loved the ending, the next day she asked Loki if he finished the book, he nodded and started discussing it with you. After a year your interactions where about books she recommended him beside the greetings she gave him. Loki asked her about her day, her missions and her hobbies. The others thought it was a bizarre friendship, but if it kept Loki from causing mischief they wouldn’t interfere.

When I see the way you look. Shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you. Love like you… Love me like you.

Then he could hear the water stop so he stepped back from the door and got into the men’s room. He didn’t want you to discover him eavesdropping. He leaned against the door and hear you pass down the hallway.

Maybe if he became a better man he could have you, be something more than friends. He shook his head and pushed that thought away from his mind. Of course not, he could never love you or you love him. If he tried something he could scare you, the only joy he had in this norn’s forsaken realm surrounded by petty people.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted one shot #submission #love like you #Tenshi-Holylight #singing #shower #passes #bathroom #melody #lyrics #relating #song #listens

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iamsuperclangyq-blog · 7 years ago

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What A Man Acts

It was late night when a man was holding a cigarette and the ashes fell on the tray with smoke filled in his room. He was talking to the phone with a girl’s voice but he seemed not well and starring on one side corner of the room past 12 in the midnight. He keeps on talking to the phone and his voice was filled with downcast. The light was dim and wrapped with silent and he was lying on the bed smoking the cigarette he hasn’t finished. It seems he was thinking deeply with all the things he is afraid and worried. There are a lot of things that are bothering his mind as if it was haunting all the things way back what happened to his life. That night Dane felt very sad realizing the things that went wrong after his break up. After that night happened, he went to school attaining the last weeks of the summer class. And he can still remember that night where his saddest voiced reached the phone call.

Dane Frankien is a basketball player having a man’s perspective in life with great physique and character. Just like all the man he seeks for love, attention, freedom, enjoyment, girls and some stuff boys do. He has a man’s way of philosophy and sometimes a man shows arrogance pretending that they’re strong outside. Everything around him is peacefully in harmony along with his family and friends living with a simple life. Boys do fall in love and part of being a real man is to get a girl he can call him his own. It is a man’s world and man makes everything with a woman he gets inspired. A man lives by a woman. All the things seemed well around him. He plays basketball, he hang out with his friends, talks about sports and cars and being sociable to the people around him. He always enjoys the company of his friends and he hangs out with them and do all the boys stuff which they only can relate. He was in college when he met his girlfriend and he loves her kind of personality. He is a romantic guy, funny and caring and he treats her special. He feels inspired with all the things he does and motivated in doing well. It was like everything around him has this perfect relationship with his girlfriend, parents and friends. One day, he met this girl named Sophie in school and they were classmates in their section. He was just trying to be friendly to her because he is faithful to his girlfriend. Every night he calls her girlfriend and expressed his love by putting effort by just calling her although they’re distance away. He is doing well in class and he is responsible specially helping his family. They had an activity in their class and Sophie was with him in the group. And from that moment on they get along together and since then she has the affection towards him. Every time when he is with her he forgets that he has a girlfriend and his feelings to her started to develop as if it is the right thing to fall in love in that moment. Until temptation came when one fails and broke trust. Things turned out blurry and he is slowly changing. He changed on the way he was with his girlfriend. What attraction allures every man has its weakness on getting attached even the wrong things looks right to what it seemed. It was the craziest thing he has done and he is indecisive on what he will try to do in the situation. Upon making decisions on whether what things to decide, he choose to stay in that girl and they broke up with his girlfriend. “I hope you will not regret the things in the end that you choose to be with her”. He leaves in awe with what she said and sigh for a moment of despair. He doesn’t know what to do but he leaves and it end there.

Boys will always be boys. Boys are different from girls on showing their emotion. He holds back his emotion as to what boys are not into emotionally broken down unlike girls. Though it is the craziest thing he has done, he buries his past and doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m sorry. But things will have to move forward. I know what I had done to you but I guess this will be the end.” That is the last thing he said to the girl he broke.

Dane is now with his new girlfriend. Every relationship is sweeter in the beginning and to get comfortable with each other by knowing each deeply. As if he has found the love with her. He is happy with Sophie and they have been dating for quite time. And for that he has completely forgotten the past.

He stares on his phone as if he remembers someone he tried to call every night. He misses his ex-girlfriend. It all flashed back the things he had done to her. He imagines the things of where he went where he went wrong.

“What is wrong with me? Why Am I so stupid for letting her go? I’m so dumb! Dumb! Dumb!”

He keeps on asking that to his self. He is happy that he had Sophie by his side, but there is something missing piece that his heart finds. The foolishness that he has done made a big impact to his self. He reflected his mistakes and he started to feel lost with his self without knowing who is he is today. He didn’t recognize his self anymore and he changes the day he meet Sophie. All he did before was to brag about the thing that he finds someone new. Things have started bothering on his mind and he began curios about the things that can forget his problems.

“I don’t know if where this is going but it is the only thing I can do. Maybe if I drink a lot of beer I can forget everything.” Dane holds a bottle of beer and he started to smoke a cigarette. He doesn’t smoke before and that was his first time smoking until it became his habit. He was lost on his self and he started to go out with his friends everywhere. He became the guy that his parents never expected him to be that rascally and crooked with his life. He escapes at their house and he never his tells his parent about where he will go. He seemed to be uncontrolled about his habit on drinking and smoking. He has a bad relationship with his parents because of his rebellion. His parent doesn’t know on why he turned out like that.

“What is gone in to your head Dane? What is wrong with you?”

“Look at you now child you’re not in yourself anymore!” his mother said that and with the discouragement leaves in her friends about what happened to his son.

He became interested about the things he is curios and wants to try. He started to join an illegal race and he didn’t know his self anymore. Months passed he wonders everything that happened to him and avoids it with the thought that it is the only way he can escape about it. He was curious and he noticed his relationship with his parents is bad for getting discouraged about him. He felt there is no one with him, with no one to share his problems. He regrets the thing he has done with his ex-girlfriend and what happened to his life. There are so much that he worries and thinks about until one day his friends invited him to go out. His friend gets a lighter on his pocket and light the green weed on the tube. They let him try out to inhale the smoke and to enjoy it. He thinks that he is already messed up in his life so he tried without hesitation. It is the first time he smokes weed and the all the things around him turns into magic of heavenly cost of feeling. He forgets all his problems for a moment and it looks like he was floating in the cloud. He felt he was in the paradise and for a moment he forgets all his problems. He always went home late in the morning and his parents’ worries about him.

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you since last night! For God seek Dane! Please stop it!”

He started to shout and throw things in their house. He was angry and intemperate. His mom couldn’t stop him. He continues broke the glasses and he saw his mother staring at him. His mom shed tears falling on her face. She couldn’t imagine how his son wretched and it broke her heart.

“Where did I go wrong in raising you?” asked his mom. He suddenly stops and stares at his mother. He saw his mother crying and he felt stiff and guilty of making his mother cries over his defiance. It was like he couldn’t move a muscle of getting his mother hurt. Everything around him stops for moment. He realized what he did and feels sorry for ever making his mother cry.

His heart filled with amicable repentance on the things he has done. All he thinks on that time was he was in great sorrow and depression. He felt there is no one around him and only by making those things will comfort him. He has no one to lean on, no one to guide him to his mistakes, he takes the wrong way of interpreting things and the wrong decision he has done.

Some people judge him because he’s crooked and no directions in his life. He felt that people misjudge him and it was like he doesn’t stand a chance to change his self. There a lot of things going on his mind and as if it all jumbled all his worries, embarrassment, regrets, the things he has done wrong and what people say about him. He didn’t know what to do to bring back his old self. It was like he lose track of his self and now he is finding who he is. “What is happening to me? I didn’t know who I am anymore.” He always asked that to his self by reflecting on his mistakes. He is fighting with depression and it broke him emotionally thinking about it. He just wants someone who can help him get out from the chaos.

He lost in contact with Sophie for a while because of what happen to him. He didn’t know where to start on explaining with her. He just met her and although they have been dating, he is still not comfortable to share his secrets with her. I guess the heart wants what it wants and he still in love with his ex-girlfriend. He is so stupid for dumping her. He is hoping she could help him get out of the situation. Although he has a girlfriend and he can ask for help but he doesn’t have a plan to tell about the thing he did. It is because maybe he is embarrassed or he doesn’t want her to get involved in the situation. He tries to reach her but it is too late to show that because she has Sophie already.

“Hello?” A voice of a girl speaks on the phone. It has been a long time since he hasn’t heard her voice. It was still the same when they call each other on the phone at night. He suddenly misses the person talking on the phone.

“Hi. It’s me Dane. I know it has been a year passed since I did that to you and I know that you still hate me. You are the only person that I feel comfortable sharing my problems. I‘m sorry for what I did and I’m such stupid to lose the person who knows and understand me for who I am.”

“It’s already done and I forgive you long ago. I find myself happiness.”

His voice was deeply down in tone when he speaks on the phone. It was his ex-girlfriend he was speaking on the phone. His voice was sad. He feels downhearted and it shows in his voice the regrets and mistakes he did and feel sorry for her. He told her the things that happened to him. He begs for her to help him and he cries over the phone when he told her the things he messed up. He wants someone to lean with his problems and he wants someone to comfort him.

“No. I cannot help you with that and I am not the solution for you to change yourself. It is only you who can change and correct the things you went wrong.”

It takes a lot to push a guy to saw them being emotional but if it really breaks or damages them, it will bring out their tears. He cannot hold back his emotions and burst out with tears. Not all man is stronger inside.

“Things happened for its own reason. Some things are meant to be a mistake in order for us to grow. And yes, it has been a year passed and I already forgiven you for that.”

His ex-girlfriend lends her time to listen about the things he wanted to burst his feelings for a long time. They talk for hours and she gave him some advices. She was a good listener to him. And as she was concern for him, she helps him quit smoking.

There are some people in our life that will come to bring happiness or great lesson. Some things are not meant to stay forever. They treat each other as friends and she forgives him. He settles his relationship with Sophie and explains to her everything. They decided to break up to give each other’s freedom and happiness. And he didn’t go back to the things he do before. He changed his perspective in life and he tries to be with his self again. He helped his self to stand up from where he falls.

--End--

#creativewriting #shortstory

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bachmanitycapital · 8 years ago

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a post in which i process my feelings about erlich bachman and talk a lot about LOST.

(warning for 4x10 spoilers and talk about drug use and suicide.)

i haven't watched the episode yet (or any of season 4...whoops), but i just read this article, and i'm just like...stunned? i'm really glad i spoiled myself for this, because the last time something like this happened to me was when I was really big into LOST and--

(i want to warn for spoilers, but you’re about 7 years too late)

--it was revealed that john locke had been dead since the beginning of s5.

another spoiler alert: i did not handle it well.

like, holy shit, i did not handle it at all. i had related SO MUCH to him--he was spiritual and intelligent--like me!--and stuck to his values--like me! it was nice to see someone like him--read: like ME!!!--overcome his disability and be useful, not only to the characters on the show, but, on a greater scale, the universe within the show's reality. well, at least he seemed useful, up until the point where we were told that he wasn't.

i realize, like, seven years later, that his usefulness was mostly born of self-delusion. at heart, he was an immature, stunted, dangerous caricature of toxic masculine entitlement. i can see how he resonated so deeply with my 22 y/o self, but luckily, i've moved past that point in my life. i've healed a lot of the hurts that made him so relatable, and now, like bootcut jeans and that one time i got really into new-age philosophy, i find him repulsive and my love of him deeply, deeply regretable.

fast forward to about a half-hour ago, when i pop into the s4 channel in our SV discord server read the aforementioned article.

and i'm sitting here like, that's not fair! why would you do that to him! he matters, why would you give him an end like that, why would you take away his agency like that, he deserves better, etc. etc. etc.

"oh my god, it's john locke all over again."

it's literally how i felt when they revealed in s5 that john locke had never confronted his own shadow and come out on the other side stronger and healed and better for it. that his universe had intended for him to fail, and that success was never really an option.

like locke, erlich is going to disappear into narrative obscurity.

(sorry, LOST, but no amount of backpeddling is going to make john locke a "good guy." ...but that's neither here no there.)

it's heavily implied that erlich is going to self-destruct, or, at least, lose himself for a very long time.

erlich, like locke, was the product of hubris and the uncaring universe into which he was written. ultimately, they both make terrible choice after terrible choice, all leading to the moment where, instead of letting the universe take the wheel and drive the car off the cliff, they write themselves out of their own story.

locke tried to kill himself. (and, well, even that he doesn’t get right--the universe still fucks him.)

erlich is very likely going to drown his failure (and very poorly managed depression) in opiates.

the universe dealt them both a shit hand, but it's almost as though erlich himself reached over, slapped the universe's hand away from his own agency, and was like "i'll take it the rest of the way.”

like the article i linked above said, all he ever wanted was to be remembered. to leave something of himself behind after he's gone. is this his way--like john--of finally taking control of things by giving up and letting go of that? by finally accepting that failure is inevitable--that the universe doesn't care whether we succeed or fail or slowly kill ourselves in a Chinese opium den?

jesus. what the hell happened to him?

erlich was such a source of light and charisma and weird, misguided love!

in season one, he's the one who tells richard that they're still going to find a way to win Tech Crunch, even if he has to jerk off every guy in the audience.

in season 2, erlich hustled right alongside richard, cutting deals and sacrificing his own income as an investor because he believed that much in pied piper.

failure was never, ever an option for erlich, because like saul goodman (ah, yes, another fave who ruins his own life. is anyone else sensing a pattern here?), he believed that if he couldn't find a way, you could be damn sure he'd make one.

but then season 3 happened. i don't need to go into how this season changed him--how discarded he felt when they moved offices, how ashamed he was that he squandered not only his, but bighead's money. that richard undervalued him, and even then, erlich still gave everything he had to save him and his company.

i haven't watched season 4. i don't know what happens to him between tne final moments of season 3 and his exit, but the idea that erlich could go from season 3 to his final scene in season 4 is...

fuck. yeah? i get it. i hate it, but i get it.

and fuck if i don't relate to that, in the same way i did to john locke as a pretentious little undergrad shithead drowning in toxic masculinity and dealing with feelings of "oh god, i fucked up. is this it? is this all there will ever be?"

erlich is so fucking relatable to me at this point in my life! i'm a mentally ill entrepreneur with a deeply hedonistic streak and a new get-rich-quick scheme every 3 months. i want attention ALL THE TIME and think pretty highly of myself, with, admittedly, very little to show for it.

i want people to remember me.

i'm spinning my wheels.

my impact on this world is, at best, negligable.

i can see myself becoming an addict.

just...fuck.

i wanted to believe that erlich could have his way--that he could be important. that he could matter. that people would love him and validate him and someday teach university classes about him--or, at least, the company he helped to build.

i want to think that there's an alternate dimension out there where erlich and richard finally escape the grim reality of the sitcom story cycle and make pied piper the best it could be.

i don't want to think about a reality in which someone i relate so deeply to could just give up like that, regardless of how understandable it is.

i guess that's the danger of processing your own identity by using fiction as a mirror--you have no say in the lives of these characters. you can't save them, and there's this terrible, irrational little part of you that worries, "but...that's me. is this all there is?"

it's just weird going through this again, already having gone through it with a character that i've so completely outgrown.

will that be how i feel about erlich in 5 years?

will my reaction to his metaphorical death he be just another mildly embarrassing footnote in my greater life?

on one hand, i'd like to give my present self more credit--i'm not erlich, and as much as i love him and relate to him, i know i've got a leg up on him. i'm not a character in a story written by cynics (well, not literally, at least). i'm not beholden to the story cycle, where everything returns to narrative stasis at the end of every week. my life isn't a story.

unlike erlich, i have people who love me.

(fucking ouch.)

like everyone else in the Real World, i'm just trying to make sense of the ultimately meaningless chaos as best as i can. as played-out as this may sound, i’m the head writer of my own story, while erlich is at the mercy of writing teams and acting contracts.

he is a reflection of reality, not reality itself.

but, on the other hand, god it still stings.

erlich was such a singular character for me--bright and bold and foolish and sad and heartbreakingly relatable. it was hard to see him fall so hard, but i hope--in the same way i hope for myself--that someday, he finds his way.

i'm going to miss him.

#this is weird and personal and long #but #hey #it all has to come out somehow #i will probably be ok #i usually am #watching s4 is gonna be hard though #oh well #thems the breaks i guess #time to do something with the rest of my day that isn't being sad about fictional boys

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annabelaplit · 8 years ago

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Young Briony

February vacation is over and I’m back. Today I am going to explore the character of Briony in Part #1 of Atonement. It seemed today in class like the vast majority of people seemed to really dislike her. But when I read the novel I didn’t hate her at all, in fact I think I actively sympathized with her for a lot of it. This is probably I feel like I was a whole lot like Briony when I was 13 and it was easy for me to see why she might have acted the way she did. So in this blog post I am going to explore some key passages relating to Briony and see what they tell me.

“But hidden drawers, lockable diaries and cryptographic systems could not conceal from Briony the simple truth:she had no secrets. Her wish for a harmonious, organized world denied her the reckless possibilities of wrongdoing. Mayhem and destruction were too chaotic for her tastes, and she did not have it in her to be cruel. Her effective status as an only child, as well as the relative isolation of the Tallis house, kept her, at least during the long summer holidays, from girlish intrigues with friends. Nothing in her life was sufficiently interesting or shameful to merit hiding; no one knew about the squirrel’s skull beneath her bed, but no one wanted to know. None of this was particularly an affliction; or rather, it appeared so only in retrospect, once a solution had been found.

At the age of eleven she wrote her first story—a foolish affair, imitative of half a dozen folktales and lacking, she realized later, that vital knowingness about the ways of the world which compels a reader’s respect. But this first clumsy attempt showed her that the imagination itself was a source of secrets: once she had begun a story, no one could be told. Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let anyone know. Even writing out the she saids, the and thens, made her wince, and she felt foolish, appearing to know about the emotions of an imaginary being. Self-exposure was inevitable the moment she described a character’s weakness; the reader was bound to speculate that she was describing herself. What other authority could she have? Only when a story was finished, all fates resolved and the whole matter sealed off at both ends so it resembled, at least in this one respect, every other finished story in the world, could she feel immune”(7).

I think this passage is the first place where we get a sense of who Briony is. She is a relatively privileged thirteen year old girl, yet she kind of longs for something more in her life. She is fascinated by the mysterious and unknown but she has the distinct impression that no one cares about what she has to hide. The way she finds excitement in life and is able to garner attention from others is through writing. Writing allows her to shape her own mysteries, and to turn her perceptions and values into cohesive narratives. She also sees writing as an intensely personal act, a reflection of self-hood. To write is a story is in some way to put a part of yourself on the page. Briony is unwilling to share this type of vulnerability with others, at least until the piece becomes finished and seemingly disassociates itself from the author.

“Briony stared at her, unable to keep the horror from her expression, and unable to speak. It was slipping away from her, she knew, but there was nothing that she could think of to say that would bring it back....How could she tell them that Arabella was not a freckled person? Her skin was pale and her hair was black and her thoughts were Briony’s thoughts... She wanted to leave, she wanted to lie alone, facedown on her bed and savor the vile piquancy of the moment, and go back down the lines of branching consequences to the point before the destruction began. She needed to contemplate with eyes closed the fullrichness of what she had lost, what she had given away, and to anticipate the new regime. Not only Leon to consider, but what of the antique peach and cream satin dress that her mother was looking out for her, for Arabella’s wedding? That would now be given to Lola. How could her mother reject the daughter who had loved her all these years? As she saw the dress make its perfect, clinging fit around her cousin and witnessed her mother’s heartless smile, Briony knew her only reasonable choice then would be to run away, to live under hedges, eat berries and speak to no one, and be found by a bearded woodsman one winter’s dawn, curled up at the base of a giant oak, beautiful and dead, and barefoot, or perhaps wearing the ballet pumps with the pink ribbon straps ...” (18)

In this passage Briony seems to have the first major upset of her young life. She has envisioned a starring role for herself in the play she has written and her cooler older cousin has just managed to manipulate it out of her. Now this in the scope everything that happens in the novel and life in general this inconvenience is really quite minor. Yet it seems to deeply affect Briony. She is watching her perfectly ordered plans fall to pieces. Arabella a character in which she has implanted personal vulnerability is being given a different form. Briony is watching her art (and her chances for adoration) slip out of her control and her immediate desire is to go escape the world. She wants to hide somewhere far away and then die to show everyone just how beautiful and perfect she is and how much she should have been valued. This is clearly a tremendous overreaction and very much dramatized. Yet the reaction is quite realistic, something I know from personal experience. I am guilty of writing more than a few sibling-centered plays and then having the fall through due to lack of interest. And often my thoughts didn’t stray far from Briony’s, “This is a disaster! I need to go hide in the woods! Everybody should love me more than this!” I don’t think readers are supposed to feel any sort of positive emotion for Briony in this moment, but I feel as if I can understand her emotions and actually empathize a bit.

“These thoughts were as familiar to her, and as comforting, as the precise configuration of her knees, their matching but competing, symmetrical and reversible, look. A second thought always followed the first, one mystery bred another: Was everyone else really as alive as she was? For example, did her sister really matter to herself, was she as valuable to herself as Briony was? Was being Cecilia just as vivid an affair as being Briony? Did her sister also have a real self concealed behind a breaking wave, and did she spend time thinking about it, with a finger held up to her face? Did everybody, including her father, Betty, Hardman? If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone’s thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone’s claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance. But if the answer was no, then Briony was surrounded by machines, intelligent and pleasant enough on the outside, but lacking the bright and private inside feeling she had. This was sinister and lonely, as well as unlikely. For, though it offended her sense of order, she knew it was overwhelmingly probable that everyone else had thoughts like hers. She knew this, but only in a rather arid way; she didn’t really feel it” (44).

This passage reveals Briony’s thoughts and another sort of layer to her character. These are pretty complex and philosophical thoughts for a thirteen year old to have, and they show how deeply Briony thinks about the world. She is striving to understand herself and wonders if there are others as complex as she is. Both options are upsetting to her. If everybody has similar thoughts, have such a deep inner personality, then she lacks the uniqueness and the sense of being a cut above the rest that she craves. But if she is the only one like this than she is alone and fundamentally different than those around her. Ultimately she accepts that everybody is just as complex as she is, but only on a surface level, for she likes this idea of being special. Thoughts like this certainly have invaded my mind, and they were a definite fixture when I was Briony’s age. I have always felt a bit different than everyone else and wondered if the way they see the world mirrors mine. If their private thoughts skim the same surface matter. It’s an interesting parallel.

“None of these three was bad, nor were they particularly good. She need not judge. There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn’t only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have” (51).

Here is where Briony discovers the answers to her questions in the previous passage. Watching Cecilia and Robbie engage in an interaction that her mind cannot parse she is forced to recognize the complex realities of others. She becomes fascinated by this idea of complicated understandings and they become the new focus in her writing. Stories seem to her a chance to reveal the secrets of others, to explores the blended patches of what cannot be known.

“The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. Her reverie, once rich in plausible details, had become a passing silliness before the hard mass of the actual. It was difficult to come back. Come back, her sister used to whisper when she woke her from a bad dream. Briony had lost her godly power of creation, but it was only at this moment of return that the loss became evident; part of a daydream’s enticement was the illusion that she was helpless before its logic:forced by international rivalry to compete at the highest level among the world’s finest and to accept the challenges that came with preeminence in her field—her field of nettle slashing—driven to push beyond her limits to assuage the roaring crowd, and to be the best, and, most importantly, unique. But of course, it had all been her—by her and about her—and now she was back in the world, not one she could make, but the one that had made her, and she felt herself shrinking under the early evening sky” (98).

This passage continues to underscore Briony’s desire to be seen as praiseworthy and unique and the role that her imagination plays in this yearning. Reeling from the disaster of her play she recedes into her own fantasies, a place where she has an integral role in important events, where she is a figure known and renowned to others. But as this daydream fades, Briony is forced to recognize the reality that her presence does not confer this much status in the real world. She is a tangential figure, someone who has not yet received a starring role in life. This desire of Briony’s, to be special and important outside the confines of her imagination, explains in part her stubborn desire to incriminate Robbie later in the novel. This might also be where I relate to Briony most. I have always used my imagination to recast myself in different roles, created scenarios where I was a figure of heightened importance. Imagination is a tool to escape the confines of reality, but it looks like Briony is searching for more than an escape.

“They were safe, Cecilia was with Leon, and she, Briony, was free to wander in the dark and contemplate her extraordinary day. Her childhood had ended, she decided now as she came away from the swimming pool, the moment she tore down her poster. The fairy stories were behind her, and in the space of a few hours she had witnessed mysteries, seen an unspeakable word, interrupted brutal behavior, and by incurring the hatred of an adult whom everyone had trusted, she had become a participant in the drama of life beyond the nursery. All she had to do now was discover the stories, not just the subjects, but a way of unfolding them, that would do justice to her new knowledge. Or did she mean, her wiser grasp of her own ignorance?”(204).

Here Briony is reveling in becoming an active participant in the drama of life. She no longer has to hide behind fantasies or live life completely in her books. Real things have now happened to her and she can now work on fitting them into her framework of life, broadening her perspective of the ways of the world. She has decided to herself that today is the day she leaves the realm of childhood and starts working towards being an adult. One can see how the previous events rather than frightening or even confusing her have instead excited her, given her the role she craved innately, and almost made real life into one of her stories.

“She would never be able to console herself that she was pressured or bullied. She never was. She trapped herself, she marched into the labyrinth of her own construction, and was too young, too awestruck, too keen to please, to insist on making her own way back. She was not endowed with, or old enough to possess, such independence of spirit. An imposing congregation had massed itself around her first certainties, and now it was waiting and she could not disappoint it at the altar. Her doubts could be neutralized only by plunging in deeper. By clinging tightly to what she believed she knew, narrowing her thoughts, reiterating her testimony, she was able to keep from mind the damage she only dimly sensed she was doing. When the matter was closed, when the sentence was passed and the congregation dispersed, a ruthless youthful forgetting, a willful erasing, protected her well into her teens” (218)

Here we can see how all of Briony’s childhood innocence and her desire to feel special and important led to her accusing an innocent man of rape. She wasn’t forced or especially compelled to confess anything, but neither was she entirely free from outside pressure in what she said. Her initial accusation sprang from the fact it matched her cyclical view of events, a version where she took center stage. Later on when she might be compelled to alter evidence, the love, support, and expectations of those around her kept her from changing her story. She got to be the center of attention and she didn’t want to disappoint those she loved. Her fantasies of uniqueness and importance got to be a reality and altering chronologies would bring that crashing down, in fact it would incur actively negative consequences. This and the true consequences of what she was doing weren’t apparent, her youth shielded her from contextual details and her imagination painted a narrative that was easy to believe. True honesty after the initial recounting would have required a significant amount of courage, to defy both the prevailing expectations of those around her and the story she had created in her own mind. And it seems Briony was not capable of being that brave, preferring to envelop herself in a cocoon of denial and ignorance. Knowing all of this what Briony did can be understood far better. It was by no means “right” and she certainly bears a heavy load of responsibility. But the paths that lead to her action reveal motives far more complex than jealousy or confusion. For all her flaws I really don’t consider her a bad person, more of a complex human being, carried down a tide of events where her flaws manifested themselves in the worst possible way.

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dfroza · 3 years ago

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A Letter written to illuminate the truth of the Son

was the clear intent of Paul.

rebirth and eternal life is only possible through Love’s pure truth that fully cleanses the heart from all sin.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 1st chapter of the Letter of Romans:

To all those who are God’s beloved saints in Rome:

May grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, surround you.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 20th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah where Isaiah is told to become a physical warning sign of nakedness and shame:

In the year the field commander, sent by King Sargon of Assyria, came to Ashdod and fought and took it, God told Isaiah son of Amoz, “Go, take off your clothes and sandals,” and Isaiah did it, going about naked and barefooted.

Then God said, “Just as my servant Isaiah has walked around town naked and barefooted for three years as a warning sign to Egypt and Ethiopia, so the king of Assyria is going to come and take the Egyptians as captives and the Ethiopians as exiles. He’ll take young and old alike and march them out of there naked and barefooted, exposed to mockery and jeers—the bared buttocks of Egypt on parade! Everyone who has put hope in Ethiopia and expected help from Egypt will be thrown into confusion. Everyone who lives along this coast will say, ‘Look at them! Naked and barefooted, shuffling off to exile! And we thought they were our best hope, that they’d rescue us from the king of Assyria. Now what’s going to happen to us? How are we going to get out of this?’”

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 20 (The Message)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, june 28 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that defines our worth in being identified by grace through faith:

One of the main strategies of the devil is to induce a sense of forgetfulness, apathy, and hopelessness... The devil wants you to lose sight of what is real and who you really are. The truth is your weapon against the cascade of lies that pours forth from the world and its princes. The entire venture of teshuvah (repentance) presupposes that you are created "in the image of God," that you are related to him, and therefore you have infinite value and dignity. This is all the more evident in light of the awesome ransom that Yeshua gave to reconcile your soul with God. Therefore hold fast to the truth, friends; "da lifnei mi attah omed" - "know before Whom you stand." Turn to what is real, refuse the lies and despair of this fallen world, and review what will abide the test of Eternity.... [Hebrew for Christians]

6.28.21 • Facebook

and another about how humility is required to see clear:

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Eternal One, the LORD, is the Creator of the ends of the earth (בּוֹרֵא קְצוֹת הָאָרֶץ). He does not faint nor grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength” (Isa. 40:28-29). Human reason has no objection that God can impart strength, but it objects that strength is found in those who are broken and weary – that is, to those mortally wounded in the battle against evil. The principle of the self-life, the ego, religious observance, "doing the law," etc., is a spiritual dead-end. The word is this: God gives strength to the weary, to the faint, to those who are without potency or power. But this means that we first must be emptied, broken, and stripped of our self-sufficiency before the strength of God is manifest in us: "My power is made perfect (τελειοῦται) in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9).

God's way is first to break us, to make us weaker and weaker, so that he can then fill us with the miraculous divine nature. Like all sacrifices that were brought to the altar, we must pass through death to life by means of our union with the Messiah at the cross... It is only after the cross that it may be said, "It is no longer 'I' who lives; now it is Messiah who lives His life in me." There is indeed strength, power, and victory – but such comes after the cross, after we reckon carnal energy as useless. Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says Adonai Tzeva’ot (Zech. 4:6).

Where we read, "Messiah who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal. 2:20), we emphasize the object of God's redeeming love; we stress that this word is being spoken to "me," and that Messiah's love is poured out "for me." But how can we justify doing so, in light of the innumerable souls that have been brought forth in the world? The Mishnah asks, "Why was man created alone?" and answers so that each person must say the world was created for me. "Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world; and whoever saves a soul, it is considered as if he saved an entire world..." [Hebrew for Christians]

6.27.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

June 28, 2021

Abiding Words

“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” (John 15:7)

In order for the words of the Lord really to abide in us, it seems clear that we should commit as many of them to memory— not only in our minds but in our hearts—as we possibly can. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart,” the psalmist said, “that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11).

There are many promises of blessing to those who have God’s Word in their hearts. “For it is a pleasant thing if thou keep them within thee; they shall withal be fitted in thy lips” (Proverbs 22:18). “My son, if thou wilt receive my words, and hide my commandments with thee;...Then shalt thou understand the fear of the LORD, and find the knowledge of God” (Proverbs 2:1, 5).

Both the apostle Paul and the apostle Peter have noted the importance of Scripture memorization. Paul says: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord” (Colossians 3:16).

Peter’s exhortation is as follows: “This second epistle, beloved, I now write unto you; in both which I stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance: That ye may be mindful of the words which were spoken before by the holy prophets [i.e., the Old Testament Scriptures], and of the commandment of us the apostles of the Lord and Saviour [i.e., the New Testament Scriptures]” (2 Peter 3:1-2). The words “be mindful” mean essentially “recall to mind.”

Since the Scriptures cannot be recalled to mind unless they’ve first been installed in the mind, and since they cannot abide in our hearts unless we first hide them in our hearts, it is surely pleasing and honoring to God that we learn “by heart” as much of His Word as we can. HMM

A tweet by illumiNations:

@IlluminationsBT: With your prayers and gifts, the ApMa people will gain access to Scripture in their own language!

Learn more at: https://bit.ly/2Sgv9o6

6.28.21 • 12:02pm • Twitter

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