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theskyeandsea · 5 years ago
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To Make a Home || Nicodemus & Skylar
Tagging: @bountybossier​
Location: Outside of Coffee Plus
Notes: Just two prospective roommates having a nice and happy chat.
“Thanks, have a good one.” Skylar said with a bright smile to the barista, taking the two coffee cups from the countertop and walked out to one of the tables outside. She wasn’t really sure what Coffee Plus’ policy on animals indoors was, but she didn’t want to push it, just in case. Plus… if she needed to make a quick break for it, being outside would probably be for the best. Not that she would have much of a chance of outrunning Nic, but at least she could try. Taking a sip from her cup, she took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. Nic was a Hunter, but he wasn’t a bad one. He hadn’t tried to hurt her. He’d been nothing but nice to her. So, why was she so nervous? Skylar tapped her fingers against her thigh and glanced up the street before spotting Nic making his way through downtown. Smiling, she gestured to the cup of coffee she’d bought for him. “Hey! I wasn’t sure what kind of coffee you liked, so I figured black would be safest. Thanks for coming.” She said with a nod, though her eyes were trained on the little dog that had accompanied him. Even though it was small, she still wasn’t sure how this meeting would go.
Damn that tiny dog and its small fucking legs. Nicodemus didn’t know when it had slipped out and followed him. But he couldn’t avoid the tippy-tapping of tiny dog feet behind him or the slight huffing for long. He would step, it would tap. He would stop, it would stop. It continued like that for a handful of streets until he finally stopped fully. The hunter glanced back at the dog. The dog looked up at him with its large, bulging eyes. Nicodemus grimaced and with a long string of colorful French swears, picked the dog up like the nothing it weighed and held it under his arm like a tucked in football. “You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He grumbled to himself as he walked toward Coffee Plus. The dog huffed and just looked at him, tongue out and ears perked. He didn’t make eye contact as he finally rounded the corner that Coffee Plus made home. The sight of Skylar made him breathe a little easier and he offered a weak wave with the hand not currently occupied by a dog. The sound of Skylar’s voice had the dog looking forward and giving a small yap. He supposed it was a greeting. “Black works just fine,” he said a little stiffly as he sat down at the open chair. Unsure of what to do with the dog, he set it on the ground. Only for it to start pawing at his jeans. “Told you I would, Skylar. Meant it.” He looked down at the dog. “So. This...is the, uh, dog. Anyhow, you doin’ alright?”
Flinching a little bit when the dog yapped at her, Skylar shrank back in her chair for a moment. But… it didn’t seem like the dog was going to do anything more than that as it settled around at Nic’s feet. When he sat down, she watched as the dog pawed at his pant leg. It almost didn’t seem like a dog, just from how small it was. A bit fascinated, she looked as it kind of shivered, pacing in once spot for a second before pawing at Nic again. Focusing her attention back at Nic, she nodded, though she kept the little dog in her peripheral sight all the same. It didn’t seem as scary as Alain’s dogs but it also wasn’t as calm looking as Moose. But, it looked okay? “Thank you.” She said appreciatively. Taking a calming breath, Skylar nodded. “I’m doing pretty good.” As she spoke, she could feel the slime building up on the palms of her hands. Swallowing, she rubbed them against her jeans. “How, um, how are you?” She asked, hoping that the question would ease some of her nervous energy.
“Ease up there, huh?” Nicodemus said, voice directed at the dog. The hunter took a long sip of hit bitter black coffee. Willfully tried to ignore the press of the dog’s paws against him as he leaned back. “It’s more like a rat than a dog, right? Ain’t just me?” Only recently was he made aware that it was a chihuahua with a long coat, one that he hadn’t initially seen under the fucking outfit it had been stuffed into. His nerves reached a limit. The chair scraped the concrete as he scooted back slightly to make room. The dog seemed to settle, if only by a hair. He frowned. Of all the fucking animals he would be stuck with, why wouldn’t it be the smallest dog in the world. He missed Bit each passing day. But the dog wasn’t the main point of the day. It was what Skylar had to say and he was keen on listening. Whatever it was was more important than the shit he would have to deal with sooner rather than later. “That’s good. Glad all the night shit didn’t bother you too much,” he said plainly as he rotated the coffee cup on the table. Glad someone managed to not get their lives entirely upended by it, he thought grimly. His movements stilled some at her question, his gaze slightly shifting over to the hand he had been keeping wrapped since that night. “I’m, uh, tired. Real goddamn tired.” Tired barely skimmed the surface of what he felt but it wrapped it all up neatly enough. “Just been a few...tryin’ weeks, I wanna say. Tryin’ to keep on an’ all. Much as someone can in this fuckin’ town, you, uh, you know?”
Skylar couldn’t help but stare at the dog as it kept whining and pawing at him, until the large man relented and the dog seemed to relax a bit. In a strange way… it was cute. “I don’t know about rat. Maybe like… a rabbit or something small and nervous?” Seeing the way the little dog was interacting with him, it reassured her that maybe this dog would be okay. It wouldn’t bark in a deep baritone that would startle her, or lunge at her face. For one thing… it would have a hard time getting to her face at all. For another, it seemed like it couldn’t hurt a fly. 
Listening as the man talked about his experiences, Skylar slowly became aware of the weary slump in his shoulders, the tension coiled in his neck, the dark bags under his eyes. She’d seen Nic that night when he’d saved her from the vampire and he looked like a different man now. A bit more downtrodden, more beaten down. What had he been through? Lifiting her coffee mug to her lips, she took a sip from her cup, trying to figure out how she could broach the subject of herself, while also wondering: was Nic okay? “I’m sorry that it’s been such a rough time. I, erm, I know that I had asked if we could meet up so I could talk to you about some… personal stuff. But, are you okay? Besides, just being tired..?” She asked cautiously. “You don’t need to answer that, though. Sorry. That’s probably invasive.” Skylar backtracked.
It was hard to ignore Skylar’s clear discomfort toward the dog. Not that Nicodemus would even consider the idea of doing just that. It would take a hot minute for him to refer to the dog as anything other than creature. He would not say that he was warming up to the dog. Right then was not the time to go on and get attached to anything, or anyone, else. At the word rabbit, he blanched. “Rats make better animals than rabbits,” he said, tone rock solid and heavy. “Mouse could work. Ain’t big on rabbits so you might be shit out of luck if you wanted to go about gettin’ one.” Placing the memory of where his dislike of rabbits started was looking for a needle in a haystack, but it was very real and very alive. He felt her eyes on him and occupied himself by looking into the black hole that was his coffee. It wasn’t hard to sense worry or concern in other people. Especially those with better hearts than his own and Skylar was a prime example. Probably the best one when he really got down to thinking about it. Real fucking strange how that worked itself out. Her good heart, his bad one. Sharing a fucking living space at that. He shook his head. “Ain’t your fault. Shit just happens and you gotta bear its weight.” He said, brow slightly furrowed as he glanced at her before he quickly returned to the coffee. Could stare down the barrel of a gun but was having a hell of a time looking her in the eye when it came to her questions. His jaw worked. Weeks ago, it would have been easy to say he was and move on. It was just like he told Kaden. Roots. A bitter but malice-free laugh came out of him. Bless Skylar. Her question wasn’t the most invasive thing that had happened to him in the last week or so. “Nah, but I’m dealin’ with it and I’ll figure it out. Just have to piece it out an’ all.” Minding the dog, he sat slightly forward and idly patted at its back. Ignored the comfort that brought him. “I’m ready to talk about it whenever you want, Skylar. The personal stuff. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Startled by Nic’s sudden shift in tone at the mention of rabbits, Skylar shrunk in on herself. Crap. She’d messed up. She wasn’t really sure why rabbits were what causes that reaction, but she made a mental note to avoid that. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t really like rabbits, not any more than I like any kind of pet. I never grew up with them. Pets, I mean.” She rambled, hoping to explain that the example had just been a random pick out of nowhere. But, when he reassured her that it wasn’t her fault, she relaxed a little bit.
“Mmmmm, okay.” She hummed, taking in his words. She trusted him to know his limits and, if he said he would figure it out, then that was that. Nic just seemed like a guy who knew himself well. She wished she could say the same about herself. Watching as he patted the dog, a small smile flitted at the corner of her lips. Maybe he liked the dog more than he let on. But, when he mentioned the personal stuff, the smile faded. Staring at the dark liquid in her cup for a moment, Skylar did her best to steel her nerve, to strengthen her resolve. “Mhm. Personal stuff. Okay.” She said, supplying filler words to help her stubborn mouth say what needed to be put out there. “So… you’re a Hunter, right? Like… big H hunter. And… if I’m going to live with you, I need to know that I’ll be safe. Not, not just from the vampires and the werewolves and the things that run around the woods of White Crest. But, that you-- that you won’t try to hurt me.” She took a deep breath, hands curling tightly into balled fists in her lap. “Because I’m not human? I’m a selkie.” Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest as she chanced a look at Nic, preparing for the worst.
Nicodemus began to tap his heel quietly. A nervous tic. Another effort to keep himself because somewhere in his bones, he was afraid of what happened if he settled. He shook his head, expression weary. “Ain’t exactly...known that I don’t like rabbits,” he said with an attempt at an encouraging nod. Or much else about him other than gators and cereal water, it seemed. Fine enough with him. “Bein’ the town gator guy will do that, I ‘spose.” As Skylar seemed ready to start talking, he tried to settle himself. Even the dog seemed to shake a little less as if it were waiting too. Maintaining eye contact was hard for him. Meeting someone’s eyes was opening a door he didn’t always like to open. Preferred to keep it barred and shut. But watching Skylar, the way she seemingly both tried to arm and make herself vulnerable with whatever it was she was about to say, it wouldn’t do to keep it closed. Even he could understand that. 
As soon as the word hunter slipped out, he went rigid. The sounds of the town ceased to exist around where they sat as he looked at her. “You think I might hurt you.” He repeated, low and quiet. She was scared of him. What he was. A mirror was being turned inside him and he was forced to look at it. He didn’t know what that meant right then. Didn’t know how to define that collapsing, concaving feeling that tested the integrity of his ribs. She was afraid of him. Afraid of the hunter. And she wasn’t human. His senses, busted as they were, flexed and pulsated around the space between skull and skin. He blinked. Breathed in. Breathed out. Looked at her. “You will. You, uh, you would,” he finally said, picking the words slowly and carefully out of the gravel in his throat. “I know what I am and what that means. Be a dumbass not to.” He tried to laugh but it came out like a puff of smoke. “I don’t...I don’t want you to be scared ‘round me, Skylar. But I get it. What you feel, that’s, uh--It makes sense is what I’m tryin’ to say. Ain’t gonna fault you for it.” He wasn’t a man that inspired comfort. He knew that. As he spoke, his thumb rubbed a slow circle into the dog’s chest. He glanced between his own coffee and Skylar. “I wouldn’t. Hurt you, I mean. That’s not--I’d like for you to feel safe. In whatever, uh, water you chose. I know it’s just words and words ain’t a whole lot but...You’d be safe. I want you to know that.”
Seeing the way he reacted to the conversation about rabbits, Skylar winced. She shouldn’t have pried. Nodding, she apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Mmm. The gator guy. But, just because he was one thing, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be other things. Which… The back of her neck burned red as she realized that there were more meanings to that than she’d initially intended. Just because he was a Hunter didn’t mean he wasn’t more than that. Just because he killed things, killed… creatures-- not people, she didn’t want to think about him killing people-- didn’t mean that was all he was. Looking down at the little dog that was settled next to him, the way it leaned into him for comfort, she smiled a little.
But, the small smile faded when she heard his tone, the pounding of her heart seeming to come to a halt as she waited for his response. Her breath caught in the back of her throat at the way he didn’t meet her gaze, until he realized exactly what she meant and stared up at her with tired eyes. Weary eyes. Eyes that had probably seen more than she could ever even imagine. Instantly, she felt a wash of guilt rush over her. She knew him, she knew him better than to think that he would hurt him. She’d let fear overwhelm her, fear egged on by people who didn’t know Nic, into thinking that he would do something to her. “No-- No, I’m sorry. I should-- I just…” She wrung her hands in her lap, wishing she could just sign, that she could just convey the thoughts in her head with her hands. But, he wouldn’t understand. “I didn’t think you would. I really didn’t. But, I know… I know people who warned me, to be careful around Hunters. Just in case. I’m sorry.” She said, shaking her head. She shouldn’t have asked. “I appreciate that a lot, Nic. Really. I just needed to know that… if anything ever happened, I’d be okay.”
“Skylar,” Nicodemus said, not as quiet as before. A little more assured, even in the way he raised his head and made eye contact. “There--There ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, alright? I mean it. You’re good.” He wasn’t good at this. At this opening of the self that led to conversations and confessions, to understanding and acceptance. A life without it, up until he crossed over the sign that said White Crest, had left him ill-prepared for such things. But he was in it, up to his neck, and there wasn’t going back. Only forward. 
“They weren’t wrong to warn you,” he muttered as he sat up straighter. She was struggling just as much as he was and a faded, worn out smile made an appearance. “Hunters got their jobs and they do it, y’know? Out of whatever principle or obligation they grew up with. They hurt because it’s what they do and sometimes what they got to.” He reminded himself that he was one of them, one of those that hurt. It was a part of him regardless of what he was. It was who he was. “I, uh, hurt. Like you saw before. But I--I choose, you know? What I do. I used to not.” His brow slightly furrowed, his entire being wound tight with a blunt tension as he chose to pry open those mausoleums of thoughts unshared. Thoughts that even he wasn’t privy too until he sat down and the crowbar wedged its way between the stone he had set. Skylar had helped him, even if that help felt a little like pain. Felt a little too raw but it was there and it was open, exposed to the sun and the sky. “I chose to make sure you were okay then and I want--” His voice trailed off to something quiet but not something cold. “You’d be okay. Is what I’m tryin’ to say.”
When he said her voice, Skylar lifted her gaze to meet his. And as he spoke those reassuring words, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Just a little. Not enough for her to feel totally comfortable, not enough for her to be relaxed. But it was enough to know that she was okay for now.
As Nic spoke, about principles and obligations that had existed since they’d been born, she couldn’t help but think back to what Rio had said. About how his family were Hunters, how he was born that way hunter, but chose differently. How he wanted to protect and help people like her. Creatures like her. And Nic, for all his rough exterior and his gruff demeanor… He wasn’t all that different from Rio. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her at how she’d misjudged the two of them. “I don’t… I won’t say I understand, because I don’t totally understand how any of this works. But, I’m glad that you chose. That you don’t just,” She swallowed, fingers fidgetting, “Kill because someone’s different. I didn’t, I didn’t think you did. But I didn’t know. I don’t know how any of this works and I-- I’m sorry for doubting you.” Skylar said, nodding and hoping that her voice sounded more steady than it felt. “I know you did. And I’m really, really grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” She let out a slightly weak laugh, “If you don’t want me to move in after I’ve just… insulted you, I completely understand.”
At least she was looking at him. That had to be good, right? For all his deeply embedded hopelessness and shadowed view of the world, Nicodemus made another choice to find something good in that. Slim as it was. Seemed he was making plenty of those to last a lifetime, however short that was for him. He wouldn’t go and do something foolish like consider it might be long. “That’s okay,” he said with a slight nod. “Ain’t askin’ you too because that’s a whole fuckin’ can of bullshit but the--The you bein’ okay part is the one. The…” He trailed off and looked down at the dog that had started to lick at his fingers absently. How the creature had managed to stay still and quiet the entire time was beyond him. But it had, listening intently. The hunter snorted and shook his head. “The important one.” 
He quieted. She was sorry for doubting him. He had had people doubt him before. Doubt his potential to finish the job but never doubt his inability to start one. He had proved them wrong.  The comparison felt wholly wrong and immediately, guilt roiled the black coffee that sat in his empty stomach. This wasn’t a job that they were talking about. She wasn’t one either, he had never seen her as one, but in his malformed bit of heart tissue, it was the only comparison he knew to make. Confusion settled in after the guilt and made itself known in his face as he looked at Skylar. “No, it’s--” Words started to fail him, like they usually did, and he breathed in to try and kickstart them again. “I don’t--Shit. You didn’t…” He paused again and swore in French under his breath. “...I’d like it. If you did. If you still wanted to. But if you don’t trust me or are--” He didn’t say it but it cut against him with a name like insecurity. Was it fear? A nervous laugh like an engine that couldn’t quite start came out of him. “Christ alive. I ain’t gonna ask you to give me a chance but...” He shook his head and lowered his head. Maybe that’s exactly what he was doing. He shut his eyes for a brief moment. Cowardice was new but bravery seared it in two before it could keep him from talking. “Ain’t never had much of a...a home before but I can try to make it one, y’know? Somewhere safe.” For the both of them.
Skylar watched the way the little dog licked at his fingers, at the way Nic let him. It was gentle, a soft gesture that she wouldn’t have expected from a man who looked the way he did. But, she was quickly becoming aware that he was more than he appeared, he was more than his actions. His words meant something to her and she trusted him. She should have just trusted him from the start. Staring at the cup of coffee that sat in front of her, long untouched, her lips twitched into a slight smile. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” She nodded.
As the man swore quietly to himself, some of them English, some in a quick soft language that she could only assume was French, Skylar felt as though her body was going to curl in on herself from the anxiety. If he didn’t want her to move in with her, she’d be back to square one. Back to worrying, endlessly worrying, and hoping she wouldn’t have to go back to crashing on the couches of people who barely knew her. But, when he spoke… the words startled her. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, though his gaze was averted, eyes closed. A home? More than an apartment, more than a house, more than the family who had abandoned her, more than the family of friends she’d found since moving. A home? As she stared at him, Skylar felt tears start to well up in the corner of her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from relief, happiness, or sadness. The sadness of knowing that-- “I, um, I thought I had a home. Back in Seattle. That my family was my home. But it wasn’t and they… they weren’t. So,” She paused, voice soft and watery with barely restrained tears, “I’d like that. I’d really like the chance to have a place to call home.”
The hunter hummed low and nodded. A tiredness clouded over him, made his head and his heart feel heavy. Was it from talking so much or the act of flaying? It was a sickness, the way Nicodemus could liken things only to pain lately. Or he had always been that way. In a way, talking about what they were talking about, was a way of healing. Of doing away with old scar tissue. When that particular kind of bleeding started, it was an act of cleansing. When she smiled, he returned it. As much as he could.
What he had before couldn’t be called home. It was an empty, forgotten charade of one. A hollow place that tried to make itself into hallowed ground. It was mud and stone and rotted wood. A cemetery of misdeeds and ill thoughts amongst the weeping willows. Maybe a home or something like it could be a selkie, a hunter, a dog that inexplicably shook, and the walls around them. Even if they didn’t seem to quite fit right into the skins they were given. They might be able to fit somewhere else. The foreign hope in the thought pierced him. When her wide eyes looked at him, he tried to not flinch. Tried to hold onto that instinct of showing no weakness lest you be eaten alive. But it wavered the way her voice did and for a moment, he cast it aside. “Thought I did too,” he echoed solemnly, voice a cut above raw. He swallowed. Nodded again to right himself. “Yeah. I...We could both use it. That chance.”
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thegammag · 3 years ago
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@silvanatrevale @marcialuvlocks @thewallgroup @wonderland #dior #_gammag_ 🖤 https://www.instagram.com/p/CWWPzw-tMah/?utm_medium=tumblr
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lyricalopposition · 4 years ago
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#LinkInBio @lyricalones #podcast⁣ ⁣ 9 Episodes In, Listen on Apple Podcasts and Spotify⁣ ⁣ Episode 9 // Legacy and Maintenance⁣ ⁣ Episode 8 // Impact & Response⁣ ⁣ Episode 7 // Another One, One, One….⁣ ⁣ Episode 6 // The Unofficial Kanye West Appreciation Episode⁣ ⁣ Episode 5 // Leah James, Black Lives Matter, N-Word vs. Karen⁣ ⁣ Episode 4 // Lyrical Legacy: 5-Year Anniversary of Lyrical Opposition⁣ ⁣ Episode 3 // Juneteenth, New Black Wall Street, Paradigm Rhymes⁣ ⁣ Episode 2 // Kirk Davis, Righteous Resistance & TMAHS Riot of 2002⁣ ⁣ Episode 1 // Welcome to the Lyrical Ones⁣ ⁣ #LyricalOnes⁣ @sin.sineo⁣ @juneebeela⁣ @alfluent⁣ ———————⁣ @fegonavarro⁣ @crossallan⁣ ⁣ #Episode #Apple #Spotify #Legacy #Response (at Lyrical Opposition) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDW8u4mlTDn/?igshid=1mjuerxgn35ir
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wellhalesbells · 3 years ago
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17 and 18 for the writer’s asks? I’m about due for the annual re-read of How Marshmallow got his Weetabix Back and also Of Bananas, Babies and Buzzkills, so I need to know these things for research purposes. Just to make extra sure I know what to look out for
17. something you use a lot in your writing but didn’t notice until it was pointed out?
honestly, the thing that comes right to mind is: 'just.' why do i talk to other writers who are like, 'haha, you know what i do, i overuse just,' and at first i thought, 'sucks to be you, dude, tra la la laaa' only to find out i very much suffer from the exact same affliction. it's everywhere and nothing sounds right without it so i don't even know how or where to begin excising and i've been forced to give up and let the 'just' locusts swarm over everything i create.
so that's a thing.
more thematically, though, things that i didn't really notice until they were pointed out to me: i don't often have my characters say 'i love you,' (turns out that's pretty true, i think i've just seen it as shorthand too often - more in published work than not, too - where the work isn't put in to advance the relationship because we have this sweet emotional bell to ring instead) and that i don't create hard endings, which i wasn't really aware of until it was made clear to me that i wasn't doing what i was supposed to. i just... always have thoughts for where those characters in that 'verse would... go, i can't help it, i've lived with them in my head for however long and i just keep making story so i can't help but leave thread for that story to be continued if i so pleased, or at least not contradicted. also, just more widely: i'm not finishing at a deathbed so of course the story isn't finished, just that particular adventure, you should feel like the characters are going to embark on a new and different one tomorrow imo.
18. a cliché thing you use in your writing?
argh, see this is a hard question because a cliche implies that it's something that is overused and tired, and if i'm using it: i don't think it's tired. the overused and tired cliches, i generally purposefully use them and subvert them. it's one of my favorite things to do actually. sometimes as absolutely heavy-handedly as i can. travis in hibernation station/subway sleeper is a really good example of that. i was not subtle because fuck that whole concept tbqh. that fic includes a lot of cliches i dislike so i could flip them on their heads. and some that are just genuine happy buttons for me: like miscommunication. idk what you'd find the most because i don't think i repeat things too often, there's usually a different itch i was scratching with everything i write, but i guess i also wouldn't know since i try not to write in cliches. which means, if i am, i don't know about it, haha.
writing style meme.
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guera1101 · 6 years ago
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Pray4kids: oración grabada 9/24/18 LBLA Encomienda tus obras al Señor, y tus propósitos se afianzarán. DHH Pon tus actos en las manos del Señor y tus planes se realizarán. JBS ¶ Encomienda al SEÑOR tus obras, y tus pensamientos serán afirmados. NBLH Encomienda tus obras al Señor, Y tus propósitos se afianzarán. NBV Pon en manos del Señor todo lo que haces, y tus planes tendrán éxito. NVI Pon en manos del Señor todas tus obras, y tus proyectos se cumplirán. Proverbios 16:3 En diferentes versiones . Encomendamos a Dios Pray4kids y sea El quien afiance nuestros caminos , que tenenos que recorrer . Dimos gracias a Dios , pues el 22 De Septiembre cumplimos 4 años exactamente , de que se hizo la primera oración . Fue el Lunes 22 de Septiembre a las 8:00 Am Por tanto, si hay alguna consolación en Cristo, si algún consuelo de amor, si alguna comunión del Espíritu, si algún afecto entrañable, si alguna misericordia, 2 completad mi gozo, sintiendo lo mismo, teniendo el mismo amor, unánimes, sintiendo una misma cosa. 3 Nada hagáis por contienda o por vanagloria; antes bien con humildad, estimando cada uno a los demás como superiores a él mismo; 4 no mirando cada uno por lo suyo propio, sino cada cual también por lo de los otros. Filipenses 2:1-4 Dios quiere que vivamos en armonía , que estemos unidos en nuestros Hogares , y compartamos unos con otros , en familia , que sea un hogar . Con El Fuego del Espíritu Santo de Dios en medio de cada Hogar . Muchos tienen casas , pero son casas frías , qué hay contienda , soledad , pleitos y donde nadie quiere estar . Más Dios quiere que formemos hogares ,, Hogares representa a una hoguera 🔥 encendida y toda la familia alrededor de ella aprendiendo del conocimiento sabio del Padre , y Obteniendo el amor puro de una Madre . Amén Amén AMOR TRIGO Y CEBADA INTERNACIONAL. Pastores: Néstor y Carolina Maldonado. Intercesora : Adriana Martínez Coordinadora de Cumbres: Nancy Navarro Coordinadora: Adriana Martínez. https://www.freeconferencecall.com/wall/recorded_audio?audioRecordingUrl=https://rs0000.freeconferencecall.com/storage/sgetFCC2/DzOwn/TmAH&subscriptionId=3632004 https://www.instagram.com/p/BoI3YBnBCS4/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wec0ofghl5yf
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