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heartstringsduet · 11 months

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oh michelle sweet woodruff for the flower prompt 👀

When suddenly, you can type 1k+ in an hour no sweat but you can't step into your WIPs. Thanks for prompting me dear Tessa. Also, woodruff is pretty famous in Germany to flavor drinks and jelly.

Sweet Woodruff. Humility “Promise me you won’t laugh, but…"

If you asked people what Carlos Reyes was known for, they’d say cooking (only TK would answer “loving me”). It wasn’t a rarity for TK to bring homemade lunch and to have only half of it left because Marjan wanted to “test its spice level”, “Mateo wanted to see “if it tastes like my Tia’s cooking” and Paul tasted to see if his version of the dish was better than Carlos’. Once TK started coming home with a grumbling stomach and a sour mood, Carlos started packed extra. They called it the 126 portion. Half for TK, half for everyone else.

So when the bakery Captain Vega had ordered cakes for Evie and Izzy’s birthdays cancelled last minute, and the stress filled the rig like it was mixed into the air, TK suggested, “Carlos is off today. He could make the cakes.”

Cap looked at him briefly from the passenger seat, her arms still wound tightly around her chest. “Really? Is he a good baker?”

“He’s an amazing cook.”

“A cook does not make a baker though,” Cap mused.

“If his baking is half as good as his cooking, the girls will be in heaven,” Nancy said from the back of the rig, making TK beam in pride and nod.

“I don’t want to just put this on him-”

“Let me ask him!” TK offered. “I’m sure he’ll love to make something for the girls. And we all know they’re a little in love with him still, so getting their crush to bake them the birthday cake? Two birds, one stone.”

“Two cakes, one dreamboat of a baker,” Nancy chimed in.

Carlos agreed, reluctantly. TK could hear hesitancy in his tone and his pauses. It didn’t help that once he said yes, Cap listed her girls’ dietary restrictions and wishes with Carlos on the speaker. One raspberry chocolate cake - gluten free - no sprinkles but lots and lots of crushed candy on top and cut into the shape of a heart ; one classic birthday cake but with an ombre effect on the outside of the three layers. Even TK gulped at the detailed instructions and he had never baked a single cake before.

“I realize what a tall order this is- just- never mind Carlos,” Cap interrupted herself, “Just get a normal and a chocolate gluten free cake mix and call it a day. Those were just the wishes we gave to the catering but - they’ll love anything you make. I'm sure of it.”

“No,” Carlos told her. “No, of course they’ll get the cakes they wished for. It’s their birthday.”

It’s past midnight when TK comes home, weary bones carrying him up to his apartment but the smell of baked goods resuscitate him. He can almost taste the vanilla sprinkles batter on his tongue, feel the raspberry buttercream on his hands, the still warm dough of the pieces of cake Carlos had to cut away for the heart form.

Still in shift, TK had texted Carlos ‘DO NOT wash away the batters and creams from the bowls. DO NOT’

Carlos hadn’t replied. But as he steps in, TK’s mouth falls open. The kitchen is in a state he’s never seen it before. He didn’t know they had this many bowls to begin with. This many utensils, even this much counter space to put everything on. It’s a wonder the sugar container hasn’t fallen over yet.

Carlos doesn’t even seem to hear him come in. When TK walks closer, the tense form of his husband gets added to by a frown, sweat on his brows, as Carlos leans down and raises a trembling hand holding a cake lifter toward the edge of something TK can’t see from this angle.

He waits until Carlos releases an unhappy sound and straightens back up to say, “Hey babe. Are you okay? How are the cakes looking?”

When Carlos turns to him, full bodied, there is a gleam of something that can only be called madness in his eyes. “The cakes?”

“Yes…the cakes?” TK tries for humor “Unless you’re building a bomb over there?”

He walks over and attempts to enter the kitchen space but Carlos suddenly steps into his way. “No. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” TK asks, dread slowly sinking in at how truly distressed his husband seems. “What is going on?”

“The cakes aren’t done yet. I- I tried. I searched for a recipe, finally found the perfect one, gluten free, one naked cake. I got all the ingredients. I stuck to the recipe. I swear I did! But the batter was too runny and then I kept it in too long so the top burned and then i had to start again but I over whipped the buttercream and when I finally got the cake layers done they were still too hot so the new batch buttercream ran and I had to go back to the store and get new ingredients to-”

TK takes Carlos face in both hands, just like Carlos would when TK spiraled. “Hey, hey, breathe baby, breathe.”

Air whizzes out, high and sharp but Carlos seems to relax the more free breaths he takes. TK never lets go of his face. He swipes a thumb over the flour dusted cheek until Carlos’ skin regains its normal color.

“Now, are you still working on both cakes?”

Carlos shakes his head, then winces. “One is done but-”

“Come on, show me? I’m sure it’ll be tasty. It’ll be beautiful.”

Carlos looks down at the ground. “They’re really not.”

“Shh. You’re just too hard on yourself.”

Carlos closes his eyes with a sigh. He kisses TK’s wrists, then he leads him into the kitchen. The chaos is even worse in the center of it.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” Carlos asks, blocking the cake with his body.

Before TK has a chance to reassure him, Carlos has turned back around with a plate in his hand. The cake on it looks a bit uneven, crumbs are mixed into the chocolate buttercream outside and Carlos has overdone it with the colorful candy topping. If TK squints, and truly, mostly because he knows it’s supposed to be, he can guess the uneven arches on top make it heart-shaped.

He is still smitten with his husband; not a day goes by he’s not in awe of something mundane Carlos does. Just today he marveled at how quickly and accurately Carlos flossed.

The cake isn’t picture perfect, isn’t what he knows Carlos had envisioned. TK still wants an exact copy of it for Valentines.

“Babe, Izzy will freak out. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s not perfect.”

“Carlos, you tried to save their birthday, you made the cakes they wished for. They’ll better be over the moon for them, or I will eat all of it myself in revenge.”

TK goes over to the chunks of chocolate cake that lay discarded on the crowded counter. He takes it and dips it into the pink cream in the bowl next to it. It’s sweet, rich and delicious. “I love it.” He walks over, gives Carlos a kiss. Carlos tastes like birthday cake batter. “They’ll love it. I’m sure they will.”

Carlos finally seems to relax, a tightrope cut through until tension leaves exhaustion. Even tired he manages a small smile. “The last time you had too much cake you spent a few painful hours in the bathroom. So maybe don’t try again?”

TK huffs. “That was one time. And I’m sure the cake was expired or something.”

“Uhuh.”

“Come on. You want me to help with the other cake or not?”

“Please. But again, promise not to laugh because this one looks worse.”

It does look worse. TK smiles a bit, but then they both make sure that the second cake looks at least decent enough to save Carlos’ reputation. The 126 will ask for a Carlos Cake for each of their birthdays.

#michelle writes #flowers in the window #tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos drabble #tarlos fluff #why do these always end up so LONG #I vow to make the next one short

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levans44 · 1 year

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chapter 2 - choc chip cookies and milk

The next time Captain America walked into her cafe, he ordered another cappuccino (so he did like it!) and some bagels.

“How many would you like?”

“Uh…” His fingers twitched, as if he was counting how many he needed, before he asked her for “just a dozen.”

She nodded as she rang him up. “Must be quite the party.” She joked as she bagged the homemade goodies. No harm in making small talk right? He was basically a regular now.

“Yeah,” He nodded “It’s for my uh… coworkers.” He paused over the last word, failing to find a better replacement, and she could see why. Captain America. So his coworkers must mean the Avengers, maybe other SHIELD agents.

Before she could think too much about the fact that Tony Stark might be eating her bagels this morning, she carried the hefty bags to the register, handing him his coffee and the receipt.

“I mixed in a couple flavors and threw in some cream cheese for you too.”

“Thank you,” he smiled.

Turns out, Steve didn’t like sugar in his coffee, but he did have a soft spot for baked goods. Her baked goods, to be precise. He came in the next morning, practically bouncing on his feet, enthusing about how everyone had loved her bagels.

Upon a quick scan of the display shelf, he asked to try the lemon-thyme bar along with the usual cappuccino. The next day, she recommended the banana bread. The day after that, the blueberry muffin.

Today, it was a classic chocolate chip cookie. He walked in around 4 pm, just around the time her babies were ready to pop out of the oven. That was the other thing, too. He started coming in more now, at unpredictable times, sometimes early noon, other times in the late afternoon.

Not always in his usual workout clothes, either. Today, he walked up to the register in a brown biker jacket and some faded jeans. She liked that he was a bit old-school that way. There was a peculiar yet endearing formality in the way he carried himself, with a level of humility that she found hard to believe in someone so renowned as Captain America.

With the mouth-watering scent wafting through the air, she couldn’t help but insist that he take a seat and wait for the cookies to be ready.

One bite of the warm, chocolaty delicious and he couldn’t help but hide a surprised smile. She set a glass of milk down in front of him, and couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling from crowding her stomach as he glanced up, smile widening.

“How’d you know this was my favorite?”

Like she said, old-fashioned.

They sat in comfortable silence, tucked away at a booth in the far corner. She took small sips from her own mug, glancing over at him as his eyes lingered over her paintings, as usual.

As the next song started playing on her playlist, she noticed his ears perk up, eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Fan of Marvin Gaye?”

He nodded, nostalgic smile on his face “Yeah, uh, Trouble Man. Friend recommended it to me a while back.”

She nodded back in response, as they started to sway in time to the beat.

“I’ve never heard of this song before, though” Steve reached forward for a second cookie, and she smiled.

“If I should die tonight.”

He looked up, eyebrow raised.

“That’s what it’s called. If I should die tonight.” She closed both hands around her mug, reveling in its warmth.

A pause, before Steve remarked softly “It’s nice.”

She hummed in agreement. Lulled by the sweet soul of Marvin Gaye's voice, she couldn’t help but close her eyes.

“You know, Marvin Gaye didn’t write this song. His producer did. About a crush he had on this woman.” The story always put a small smile on her face.

“And Marvin refused to sing it ‘cause he’d never felt that way about anyone… until he met his wife.”

A few moments of silence, only the music flowing gently from the overhead speakers. She glanced up to check Steve’s reaction, and realize that his eyes were fixated on a spot on the table, deep in thought. Then, he spoke, voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“Do you believe in that? That some people are destined to be together?”

She glanced up, a little surprised at the question, before letting out a light laugh, looking back down at her cup,

“Soulmates? Not really.” She pursed her lip, before continuing.

“… but, as clichéd as this sounds, I do think true love exists. You know, someone you just know you belong with.”

She looked up the same time he did, and as soon as those blue eyes met hers, she knew exactly what he was thinking. The same thought had appeared in her own mind. Neither of them spoke, but his eyes said everything she wanted to know.

As the song started to build up to the second verse, they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bell, and a customer stepped through the door.

He immediately got on his feet, almost hitting his head against the ceiling, before shoving his baseball cap lower over his brow. He started to reach for the wallet in his back pocket, voice low.

“Sorry I kept you for so long, what do I ow-”

“What? No, put that away!” She smiled, picking up the empty plate and the cup.

“I can’t as-“

“Seriously, it’s okay. These were on me.”

“But-“ He looked like he was about to argue, but he glanced back at the expectant customer waiting at the register, and closed his mouth.

“Well, the cookies were amazing. Thank you.” He smiled, his sincere gaze warming up her cheeks.

“Anytime.”

As he made his way out, she rushed behind the counter to take the customer's order. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him round the corner and disappear, in the same way he always does.

As she started crafting the coffee order, she listened attentively to the last of the Marvin Gaye song, fading out in the background, trying desperately to ignore the pounding heartbeat in her chest or that fuzzy feeling in her stomach, settling down for good.

If I should die tonight, love

I just want you to keep this one thought in mind

That I would never die blue

…’Cause I've known you

(cap)puccino, w/ milk and sugar masterlist

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radical-revolution · 11 months

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Spiritual teachers sometimes talk of a “Pure Awareness” that doesn’t suffer, a formless consciousness untouched by form.

I say, why do you split Awareness from all that emerges out of her infinite womb?

Why do you reify Awareness… in your mind?

How ironic, a nondual teaching that is deeply dualistic at its core, and shaming of our vulnerable humanity… and deeply, deeply unconscious of this basic fact.

Spiritual teachers sometimes talk of Oneness. Yet in the same breath, they speak of a state in which jealousy, anger, fear, confusion and doubt do not arise. Or if they do, it’s a “sign” that we are “not there yet”.

What kind of Oneness does not radically include all of her forms? What kind of ocean does not embrace, and infuse, every single one of its precious waves?

Spiritual teachers sometimes tell us that there is no goal, nothing to attain, and they are not special in any way. How ordinary they are!

Yet in the same breath they speak of the falling-away of the separate self, the sudden or gradual death of their ego, the silencing of the mind, and how they achieved states of permanent bliss, peace and equanimity.

And how you can too.

And how you can follow them.

They sometimes speak of non-judgmental love, yet judge and guilt-trip and correct their students for having fears, doubts, annoying questions and... resistance! They make their students doubt their own experience even more. They judge themselves to be enlightened, and others as not enlightened.

They identify as having lost their separate self, yet speak of having no identity at all.

The mind is an addict. It is desperate for somewhere to land. Some certainty. Some dogma. Some “true teaching”. Some ground, some home.

The mind will addict itself to even the most beautiful, refined, spiritual concepts.

“I am pure awareness”.

“I am not the body”.

“There is no separate self; it is an illusion”.

In order to avoid the true death of seeking... Which is a tender, moment-by-moment embrace of our fragile, fleshy, muddy, messy humanness.

Here, our unworthiness has such worth! Our confusion is clearly loveable. Our doubts are certainly sacred. Our longings, aches and wounds are not signs that we haven’t reached the correct state, or that we are far from the Promised Land. They are holy sites in us themselves, expressions of the One Life that cannot be uttered.

In this field of presence, there are no experts, no enlightened ones, no authorities.

Just a bone-crushing humility.

And a willingness to look.

To begin again. And again.

To not know.

To soften into the grieving heart, to let it help us find and touch the ground.

I say the broken heart is holy. I reject any spirituality that cannot see the grace in it.

I reject any spirituality that doesn’t allow us to be fully human too.

If “spiritual teacher” means someone who has transcended their awkward, vulnerable, juicy, messy humanity, I wish to have nothing to do with the label. It is meaningless to me, and a terrible, destructive lie.

If “spiritual teacher” means someone who sees the “fierce grace” - thank you, Ram Dass 🥰 - in the pits of suffering, and the unspeakable beauty in our wounded and tender places, and the nonduality shining brightly in the damn chaos of duality, and the ever-present existence of a love so vast it cannot be understood by mind, a love that does not shame our shame, or fear our fear, or attempt to purify our “impurities” - a love that loves our imperfections and mistakes and embraces them in loving awareness in each and every moment of our lives - then sign me up!

If “spiritual teacher” means someone who reminds us to trust the night, and make sweet love to the darkness inside, and bear the unbearable in every new Now, and awaken to the sacred in the ordinary and the mundane, then count me in.

Count me fucking in.

- Jeff Foster

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dfroza · 12 days

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for April 15 of 2024 with Proverbs 15 and Psalm 15, accompanied by Psalm 28 for the 28th day of Astronomical Spring and Psalm 106 for day 106 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 15]

A tender answer turns away rage,

but a prickly reply spikes anger.

The words of the wise extend knowledge,

but foolish people utter nonsense.

The Eternal can see all things;

His gaze is fixed on both the evil and the good.

A word of encouragement heals the one who receives it,

but a deceitful word breaks the spirit.

Fools refuse their parents’ guidance,

but sensible children accept correction.

Great treasure may be found where the right-living make their home,

but trouble awaits the wicked at every turn.

When the wise speak, knowledge spreads far and wide,

but fools care nothing about such matters.

When the wicked offer sacrifices, they disgust the Eternal,

but the prayers of those who do right are a pleasure to Him.

The lifestyle of the wicked is repulsive to Him,

while those who do right delight Him.

Harsh punishment is waiting for those who reject the path of life,

and those who hate correction will die.

The grave and destruction are fully exposed before the Eternal;

how much more does He know the thoughts of Adam’s children!

Those who mock others don’t like being corrected,

so they keep their distance from the wise.

A warm, smiling face reveals a joy-filled heart,

but heartache crushes the spirit and darkens the appearance.

Those who have understanding hearts hunger after knowledge,

but those with no understanding feast on foolishness.

The poor and oppressed suffer hardship day after day,

but those with kind hearts continually feast.

It is better to live with less and honor the Eternal

than to have riches and carry the burdens that come with them.

Better to eat only vegetables served lovingly

than a fattened ox served hatefully.

A hot-headed person stirs up trouble,

but one with patience settles a fight.

Lazy people walk a path overgrown with thornbushes,

but those with integrity travel a wide, level road.

A wise child makes his father happy,

but a foolish man despises his mother.

Foolishness brings sheer joy to those who have no sense,

but people with insight steer a straight course through life.

Plans fall apart without proper advice;

but with the right guidance, they come together nicely.

There is great joy in having the right answer,

and how sweet is the right word at the right time!

For the wise the road of life climbs up steep grades

in order to avoid the slide down to the grave.

The Eternal splinters the house of the haughty,

but He secures the property of widows.

The thoughts of the wrongdoers repulse the Eternal,

but kind words are pure pleasure for Him.

Those who take illegal gains injure their families,

but those who refuse a bribe will live in peace.

The right-living think before they speak,

but wrongdoers simply spew evil.

The Eternal stays far from the wrongdoers,

but He listens to the prayer of the right-living.

Bright eyes and a cheerful expression bring joy to the heart,

and good news revives the spirit and renews health.

Those who learn from the lessons of life

will join the others who are wise.

Those who disregard discipline sabotage themselves,

but those who are open to correction gain understanding.

Reverence for the Eternal is the first lesson of wisdom,

and humility always precedes honor.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

It is ironic that we may have more to fear from the proud and powerful than from the poor and needy. Those who have want more, and so they take it. Oh, maybe they won’t pick your pocket or break into your home. Their ways are more subtle and more effective. As James, Jesus’ brother, wrote, “Isn’t it the rich who step on you while climbing the ladder of success? And isn’t it the rich who take advantage of you and drag you into court?” (James 2:6b). James isn’t describing all the rich, of course, but many have made their fortunes off the backs of others. God is the One who can protect the poor, the One who can reduce the grand houses of the haughty to splinters.

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

A recurring theme in the psalms is the dwelling place of God and its importance in worship. This Davidic psalm considers the moral qualities of the person who wishes to approach God.

[Psalm 28]

A song of David.

Eternal One, I am calling out to You;

You are the foundation of my life. Please, don’t turn Your ear from me.

If You respond to my pleas with silence,

I will lose all hope like those silenced by death’s grave.

Listen to my voice.

You will hear me begging for Your help

With my hands lifted up in prayer,

my body turned toward Your holy home.

I beg You; don’t punish me with the most heinous men.

They spend their days doing evil.

Even when they engage their neighbors in pleasantness,

they are scheming against them.

Pay them back for their deeds;

hold them accountable for their malice.

Give them what they deserve.

Because these are people who have no respect for You, O Eternal,

they ignore everything You have done.

So He will tear them down with His powerful hands;

never will they be built again.

The Eternal should be honored and revered;

He has heard my cries for help.

The Eternal is the source of my strength and the shield that guards me.

When I learn to rest and truly trust Him,

He sends His help. This is why my heart is singing!

I open my mouth to praise Him, and thankfulness rises as song.

The Eternal gives life and power to all His chosen ones;

to His anointed He is a sturdy fortress.

Rescue Your people, and bring prosperity to Your legacy;

may they know You as a shepherd, carrying them at all times.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

This Davidic psalm pleads with God to spare him and repay his enemies. It would be difficult to locate this psalm in any one event. During his life David faced many threats from different enemies; not only were these threats from outside his realm, but some of his most difficult challenges came from inside his own family.

[Psalm 106]

Praise the Eternal!

Thank Him because He is good

and His loyal love will never end.

Who could find words to tell of the Eternal’s mighty deeds

or give Him all the praise He deserves?

Blessed are those who work for justice,

who always do what they know to be right!

Remember me, O Eternal One, when You show kindness to Your people;

don’t forget me when You are saving them.

That way I can know how good it is to be Your chosen people;

that way I can celebrate the joy of Your nation;

that way I can join those who belong to You in unending praise.

Like our ancestors, we have sinned;

we have done wicked things.

When our ancestors were leaving Egypt,

they did not consider Your marvelous acts.

They forgot Your overwhelming kindness to them

and instead rebelled at the Red Sea.

Nevertheless, God saved them for the honor of His name

so He could show His power to the world.

He gave the order, and the waters of the Red Sea dried up,

and He led the people across the sea floor as though it were the wilderness.

That’s how He liberated them from their enemies

and rescued them from the hand of their oppressors.

After that the sea surged and covered their foes,

and every one of them drowned in its waters.

When God’s people saw what He did, they believed what He said

and they sang praises to Him.

But it didn’t take long for them to forget what He had done.

They moved on without waiting for His instructions,

So our ancestors became very hungry in the wilderness

and the rabble grumbled and complained, testing God’s patience in the desert.

Although He granted their request,

He also sent a disease that caused them to waste away.

While they were camped in the desert, some began to be jealous of Moses

and Aaron, the holy priest of the Eternal.

The earth opened up, and a deep fissure swallowed Dathan

and buried Abiram’s group.

A blaze ignited where they were gathered;

the fire consumed the wicked mob.

The people made a golden calf in Horeb

and bowed to worship an image they had made.

They traded the glory of God

for the likeness of an ox that eats grass.

They forgot about God, their True Savior,

who had done great things for them in Egypt—

Miracles in the land of Ham

and amazing deeds at the Red Sea.

Therefore, He declared in His anger that He would wipe them away.

If Moses, His chosen one,

Had not pleaded for the people,

His anger would have destroyed them.

At the edge of the beautiful land God had promised them,

they didn’t trust His words, so they refused to enter.

They complained when they were gathered in their tents;

they ignored the voice of the Eternal.

Because of their attitude, He swore,

“I’ll leave you where you fall in the desert.

I’ll scatter your children—whoever is left—

throughout the nations all over the earth.”

Then they aligned themselves with the god of Peor,

and they ate sacrifices that had been made to lifeless gods.

Through their actions, they stirred up His anger,

and a plague broke out in their midst.

Then Phinehas took a stand and intervened,

so the plague was stopped.

And God saw what he did and considered him righteous,

a man to be honored by all generations forever.

Again they stirred up His anger at the waters of Meribah,

and serious trouble came to Moses because of them;

Because they stood against the Spirit,

Moses spoke rashly with them.

Later, after they entered the promised land, they did not eradicate the peoples,

as the Eternal had ordered them to do,

But they mixed and married with the outsider nations,

adopted their practices,

And worshiped their idols,

which entrapped them.

They even offered their sons

and daughters as sacrifices to the demons.

The promised land was corrupted by the innocent blood

they offered to the idols of Canaan,

The blood of their very own sons and daughters.

They became impure because of their unfaithful works;

by their actions, they prostituted themselves to other gods.

Therefore the Eternal’s anger was ignited against His people;

He came to despise the people of His inheritance.

So He handed them over to the control of foreign nations,

to be ruled by people who hated them.

Their enemies exploited them, victimized them,

and restrained them by abusive power.

He delivered them over and over again;

however, they were slow to learn and deliberately rebelled.

Their sins humbled them and nearly destroyed them.

Nevertheless, He saw their great struggle, took pity on them,

and heard their prayers;

He did not forget His covenant promises to them

but reversed their fortune and released them from their punishment

because of His loyal love.

He changed the hearts of all who held them captive

so that they would show compassion on them.

Save us, O Eternal One our God,

and gather us who are scattered among all the nations,

That we may give thanks to Your holy name

and celebrate Your amazing greatness with praise.

Blessed be the Eternal, the God of Israel,

from everlasting to everlasting.

And let everyone say, “Amen!”

Praise the Eternal!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 106 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Psalm 106 was composed during the exile offering a historical review of the ways God’s people rebelled against Him. It is a fitting closure to Book Four of Psalms. After this liturgy of failure on the part of the people, the psalmist cries out in thanksgiving for God’s faithfulness and in the final verse proclaims praise “from everlasting to everlasting.”

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carolinemillerbooks · 5 months

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New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-paeen-to-humility/

A Paeen To Humility

If life feels frustrating, there’s a reason. Frustration is a condition throughout the universe. Even electrons are vulnerable. Because an imbalance exists between the places for them in one layer of the quantum soup and another, each time the layers interact, the quantum particles must scramble for positions like players in a game of musical chairs. Though existence is hard for electrons, scientists suspect they can use that frustration to increase reliability when encoding digital information. In politics, frustration is a boon for antacid manufacturers. Each new poll in our divided nation sends many to the drugstore. Current tallies for the 2024 election show Donald Trump leads Joe Biden by a few percentage points, a difference that keeps Democrats awake at night worried about the return of a failed president whose agenda is political revenge. Logic suggests the polls are wrong. In 2020, Joe Biden defeated Trump by 7 million votes. Is it reasonable to suppose that 4 years later, these 7 million find Trump’s 91 felony charges an asset? Should we suppose that women, even in red states like Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, and Ohio, who have voted to enshrine abortion rights into their state constitutions will find Trump’s call for a national ban irresistible? People are more complex than the polls can reflect, it would seem. This morning, a friend in California surprised me with a phone call. We haven’t met for several years but we’ve stayed in touch with birthday cards and holiday messages. He opened our conversation with a few lines from my memoir, Getting Lost to Find Home. His speech sounded urgent, as he feared I’d missed the importance of what I’d written. Afterward, he thanked me for reminding him that friendships needed nurturing, and he resolved to do better with ours. The sweetness of his remark stuck in my throat like a lump of hard candy. I doubted my friend could have foreseen the feeling of communion that rose within me or fathom the compliment he’d paid me by reading my words with feeling. When our conversation ended, I returned to the blog I was writing, compulsively, the way a crow returns to a crust of bread at the side of the road once traffic has subsided. My thoughts returned to an interview with David Brooks I’d just read. (“Q&A,” AARP Bulletin, Nov. 23, pgs. 40-41.) Brooks is a columnist whose political views are more conservative than mine. Many times, I’ve crushed his commentaries from my easy chair, though he never knew it. Even so, over the years, he seemed to have mellowed, and I am gratified that in his interview, he confirmed my assessment. I’ve learned to be more relational and humbler, he confesses. Time’s passing has a way of changing perspective. For example, I have rid myself of the notion that humans rule the planet. As a species, we are no more in control of the ground beneath our feet than were David Thoreau’s warring red and black ants in Walden Pond. China’s Xi Jinping and Russia’s Vladimir Putin may imagine otherwise and hope to find a place for themselves in the pantheon of great leaders. More likely the pain and distrust they sow will grow like graveyard weeds to one day blot out their memory. Jews and Palestineans are at war again, the historical residue of tyrants and old men bent in prayer who exhort their followers to slaughter non-believers. Do these disparate sides not see the absurdity of that call? No other mammalian slaughters its own in greater numbers than our species. That isn’t Nature’s way. It is human vainglory. With both sides drenched in the blood of their enemy, the time has come for all to see no triumph lies in war. A dead child pulled from the rubble of a bombed building is the universal source of human tears. We can do better. Let there be no more learned hate. Frustration may exist in the universe, but we can choose our response. We either yield to it or build a wall of defiance. If we choose the latter, let imagination be the bricks of our fortress and communion its mortar. When we fill the cracks between oblivion in service to one another, we give our frail and inauspicious species primacy and establish compassion as human law throughout a deaf, dumb, and blind cosmos.

#abortion rights #communion #David Brooks #David Thoreau #Donald Trump #frustration in the universe #Geting Lost to Find Home #Israeli/Palestinian war #learned hate #political polls for 2024 election #the politics of revenge #vainglory #Vladimir Putin #Walden Pond #Xi Jinping

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

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On Kong Kenan/Super-Man

It should've been him. He should've been the Superman of 5G/Future State/right now not Jon, and he should be the one getting an HBO Max series not Val. Hell he should be getting a movie!

God this dude is literally the best legacy character Superman has ever gotten, wholly his own person with his own lore and status quo while still building on the idea of "Superman". I am so pissed at DC for essentially just dropping him after his ongoing ended, what the hell Lee? You keep trying to make the Wildstorm characters happen, I need you to get my man Yang another Kenan book.

Have to admit I was a bit nervous at first about whether or not Kenan would be a worthwhile character. Yang's New 52 Superman run had been a disappointment to me overall, with only the the arc where Superman has underground wrestling matches against forgotten gods really sticking with me. Now he was introducing a brand new Superman? Didn't feel like he had "earned" that yet. But from the first issue I was hooked on this new character.

Kenan was unlike any other member of the Superfamily. He wasn't kind or sweet, he was an asshole! He was a bully! He was fantastic! Right from the start Kenan was set up to undergo a very different kind of character journey than the other members of the Superfamily. Empathy, humility, respect for people weaker than himself, these are all traits most heroes wearing the S-shield already posses by the time they first don the crest, but not Kenan.

Like all bullies he was even a bit of a coward himself at first, trying to bail on the experiment meant to give him Superman's powers right as it begins. After "saving" Lixin (the kid he bullies and steals lunch from every day) from Blue Condor he demands all the money Lixin has on him as payment. He's not courageous or selfless either at the start, Kenan is as much of an opposite of Superman as you can get short of being Bizarro. Learning the appeal of these traits formed the basis for his growth over the course of his series.

Seeing Yang bring in a lot of recognizable "Superman" elements in the series, but with a twist, was also great. Kenan is the one who bullies "Luo Lixin" rather than the traditional Clark/Lex friendship of Pre-Crisis and Birthright. Initially Kenan develops a crush on intrepid reporter for Primetime Shanghai, Laney Lan, but she dismisses him as too young and Kenan eventually ends up pursuing Avery Ho (Flash) instead. Baxi the Bat-Man of China has a similar relationship with Kenan as the traditional Superman/Batman in terms of being vitriolic best buds, however Baxi is the one who has the most respect for authority while Kenan is the rebel. Kenan is a part of the "Justice League of China" which does not meet with the approval of the already established Chinese superheroes, the Great Ten. That contrasts nicely with the good relationship the Justice Society and Justice League have, as well as seeing Yang lampshade the "Chinese copy" trope and incorporate that into his storytelling.

One of the funniest differences is how Kenan chooses to immediately reveal his identity as Super-Man to the world by taking off the compliance visor he was forced to wear, contrasting with Clark's choice to hide his identity. He was so eager to impress people that he never gave any thought to the danger he could put himself or his family in by revealing his identity until it was too late, something Clark is well aware of and has taken great pains to keep his identity secret. Was a missed opportunity for DC to have Kenan comment on Clark copying him for once when he outed himself under Bendis.

But one of the most poignant differences between Clark and Kenan is the gulf in separation between their relationship with their parents. Clark has a loving relationship with Ma and Pa Kent, trying to live up to their lessons as best he can. In contrast Kenan's mom was believed to have died in an airplane crash when he was just a child, and he never really knew her. His father was distant from him after that and the two weren't really close despite Kenan's attempts to impress him. So Kenan lacks that strong connection while still clearly loving both of them.

Pa Kent's death is one of the most tragic examples of Clark's love for his parents, and I've always been a fan of takes where Clark promises his father to fight for the powerless on Pa's deathbed. Kenan gets a similar scene at the start of his career, his dad "dies" (after being exposed as Flying General Dragon, a pro-democracy "supervillain" from the Chinese authorities perspective) and wants Kenan to promise he'll fight for Truth, Justice, and Democracy. But because Kenan's dad never really bonded with him, Kenan doesn't know what those mean, and can only promise that he never wants to see people die, something his father takes comfort in at least. In classic comic book fashion it's revealed that Dr. Omen, Kenan's "boss" and the one who gave him his powers, saved Kenan's father, because she is Kenan's mother! Kenan's relationship with his parents forms a lot of the crux of his character arc, and seeing how Yang utilizes the classic Superman concept of family kept the storytelling exciting.

Yang's brilliant exploration of the concept of "Superman" through the prism of Chinese culture was a great way to differentiate Kenan as well.

I absolutely freaking love how he tied to the concept of Qi to the S-shield in particular. Connecting the shape of the shield with the way Kenan has acquired his powers along the path of the Bagua (eight trigrams used in Taoism that represent the fundamental principles of reality), with his octagon S-shield outline representing all eight principles together, was mindblowing! So was the idea of restricting Kenan's access to his powers unless he was actually acting in a Superman manner, that tied his character growth to his power growth in an entertaining manner. There were so many characters and concepts that meshed Chinese and DC lore together, like how Emperor Super-Man was Kenan's "Doomsday", they even recreated that iconic dual kill shot! The Chinese Wonder Woman Peng Deilan, being based on the Chinese Legend of the White Snake! There was even some Korean mythology referenced with the Aqua-Man member of the JLC "Dragonson".

Yang also managed to do a Superman Blue/Superman Red story with Super-Man Yin/Super-Man Yang!

Shameful that it took me a while to realize what Gene Yang was doing but once I caught on I was touched. You can tell how much Yang loved Superman and his mythology, and how he was excited to incorporate as much from Clark as he could, while still using it in a way that was solidly Kenan's. And not just Superman's mythology, but the history and lore of the entire DC Universe. I-Ching got to be brought in, fleshed out, and used as Kenan's mentor! The "Yellow Peril" villain from Detective Comics #1, the comic DC gets its name from was brought in and revamped as I-Ching's twin brother All-Yang! Hats off to Yang for taking a racist caricature and attempting to make him into something more.

This series was a beautiful attempt by Gene Yang to build a space for Asian heroes and villains where they could be more than stereotypes, Kenan himself being a defiant mold-breaker in every regard as the complete opposite of most Asian characters in Western media (a jock, a bully, loves his dad but not on great terms with him, a powerhouse as a hero, etc). So much thought and hard work was poured into this by Yang and his team of artist collaborators.

Especially the costumes, man Kenan had so many great looks. From his starting outfit (which is my favorite Superman variant not worn by Clark himself), to the one with the Yin/Yang shield he acquired later on, to his Super-Man Yin & Super-Man Yang outfits, Kenan looked damn cool. Part of me is bummed they didn't go with the Chinese character shield they toyed around with, but I loved how Yang used the "s-shield" as a plot point, so I'm not too broken up over it.

All that great work Yang did to build that space up has been more or less forgotten sadly. It was nice to see Kenan in the DC Asian Month Celebration issue. Avery is going to be in Justice Incarnate at least (unsurprising considering she was created by Williamson). So fucking bummed that Superman Family Adventures cartoon didn't happen, they were going to have Kenan and John Henry Irons in it! Would've been a dream come true for me to see Irons in animation again, and Kenan making the jump to outside media! Maybe that would've encouraged DC to let Yang keep writing New Super-Man, or at least encouraged them to use him elsewhere instead of allowing him fall into Limbo.

Unfortunately I'm not sure what the future holds for Kenan. Jon is being pushed as Clark's replacement in the comics, with DC keeping all the other contenders such as Kon benched. Calvin is leading the Justice Incarnate team likely due to the upcoming Coates reboot that will make Clark black. Val will probably get something once Taylor leaves Jon's book or once they officially announce the HBO Max show is happening. So where does that leave Kenan, my new favorite PoC legacy hero? Currently my only hope is that Yang is working on something for DC involving him. Yang left Batman/Superman, where I was hoping to see a Baxi/Kenan team up, to go work on "exciting other opportunities" per his Twitter. So fingers crossed that there's something in the works for Kenan!

One day I hope he gets his day in the sun again.

#kenan kong #new super man #gene yang #justice league of china #superman #dc comics

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murasakispace · 3 years

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Adam/Shindo Ainosuke X Male Reader

Author's note : Adam needs a bit of love, don't you think? A little love that doesn't imply to hurt Tadashi. It doesn't prevent that it is certainly crap. English is not my main language and it must be awful.

Warnings : NSFW, spanking, degradation and all the BDSM pack.

You were a newcomer, a rookie here. In S. You had the time to watch the local legends fall from their safe sky on the large screens. The most incredible was the race against Langa. Well... You were still wondering if his name was really Langa. Maybe you misunderstood, hidden in your shadows. First Joe, then Cherry and finally Adam. You had to admit their style was eclectic. Even them had to learn again. They were believing themselves as gods because they were the founders of a clandestin course. It made you shrug a little while you were observing them.

People were people. Here, in S, freedom was at its most powerful. A place were no one could say, order to someone something he doesn't want to do. Everything was ruled by skateboard and the people's talent. You were quite happy of that. Because of an accident years ago in mountains with your motorbike while you were heading to the summit so as to practice snowboard. You had the ambition to reach the Winter Olympic Games in half-pipe. You fell from a cliff and you miraculously landed meters below with broken ribs instead of your backbone.

During years you suffered and your dream of medals in the Olympic Games was gone, vanished into the air. Your well-known recklessness almost hurried you in your grave. In the hospital, you spent the last three years to reeducate with an omnipresent pain in your back, anger against the people who had forgotten you when you would have given them your soul if they asked for it an ended alone. You nearly lost your mind when you woke up from coma and nothing appeared in front of you. You weren't able to see anymore. Time went by and you found yourself offered the chance to remedy to your blindness. But it doomed you to wear particular sunglasses every day of your life. A little cost considering what you've been through.

You suffered. You were still aching but less than these last month. Moreover you felt better each day passing. Only eternal scars remain. And to be here in S got you like you were free as much as before your accident. And you would thank Adam for this. Yet, you meant nothing, watching the same scenes which were playing in front of your eyes.

You were sitting on your motorbike far behind the last people composing the crowds ahead of you. Actually, the last time you came at S was when Adam had been defeated. Since then, you weren't coming as often as you should now. Everything was more peaceful and Adam abandoned this bad habit to smash people in the face with his own skateboard. Of course, the blue-haired show-off would never stop to make his little shows and big entrances. You don't think that one day his "hey bitches and bros and non-binary hoes" would leave your mind so easily.

Yet, even if you admired Adam as an remarkable skater, you wouldn't prevent yourself to hate him for everything he was aside all of it. He was "in love" as he told to anyone who would like to hear it with his partners of race. It was nothing like love. You didn't know how you manage to not go through the crowds to slap him right in the face. He didn't understand. He wouldn't anyway. Love is sweet, a fluttering sentiment which set upside-down your guts and your soul. It wasn't how you remembered this wonderful thing.

Anyways, Adam had been defeated by a rookie that you had the power to crush on a snowboard. Even if he was talented, had he the talent of someone able to go in the Olympic Games? You didn't think so. You had yourself a modified board. And right now before the attended race between two opponents, you were as if you were playing on the half-pipe near the start of the race.

You were jumping even higher than this little rookie and executing figures in air that were turning sick some of the people gathered in your audience. You were hearing the slight gasps of awe coming from several girls watching them. Even Langa applaused you in the distance with an annoying smile. That little group comprehending Shadow, Reki, Langa, Miya and the others was sincerely uselessly noisy. Though, they were sometimes giving you back a smile you had long forgotten it was existing. But you didn't care anymore. You were busy with your "switched back flip with nose grab" and to make people applause even louder around you.

They were kind and cute because even if the trick wasn't so hard, doing it on a skateboard was something else. And it earned you the nickname of Eagle in S. You were impressive to say the least and people were clearly stunned. What you didn't expect was to attract the boss' attention here. Adam. Actually, his little grieves left you as if you were like marble.

Not only was he sticking to you but he also was quite insisting in his behavior. You didn't like him at all. It may have been the second or the third night that you came on the half-pipe of S. No one challenged you that time. You just shrugged your shoulders and were going on the way to leave this place. The pressure, the people gathered here, the races and the clear lack of delicacy from them made you get away from here. A sort of repulsion ordered you to go away. A skatepark would be big enough to allow you to do the same show for any passerby. After all what was the point of tiring yourself by skating if no one could applause for your demonstration of pure talent. And today, several nights after Adam's defeat, you were leaving S for good this time. It has no point for you to stay.

Yet, Adam didn't want the same. He was observing you before Langa. So he caught you up while lights were dancing around him.

"Mmh... What a wonderful little bird I see here. Don't be scared my dove, I'm not going to bite you." Adam said both loudly and sensually, thus it made crowds look in the same moment towards you.

A heavy silence has just fallen onto the crowds. You have heard the wheels of Adam's skateboard behind you. And he came, leaving his hand on your hips, getting you closer and closer to him. You could feel his hands roaming and doing delicate circles on the fabric of your clothes. Such an intimate action while you could almost feel his head rest on your shoulder. He made a little comment about your scent. Does this man have really no shame ?

"Aren't you tired of your own bullshit, Adam? Losing once wasn't enough to bring humility in you?" you snapped back while the man gazed at you.

"Never, my sweet, stubborn little dove" Ainosuke whispered in your ear while his hands were circling around your waists.

His sweet, gentle, poisonous tone was near to give you shivers. You weren't able to discern within yourself if it was a sort of trespassing desire that was boiling in you or a fire of rage and the deep will to smash him with your skateboard. Probably both. Let's agree on the fact that this man was a living invitation to luxury and rough love. You were just a little smaller than him but strong enough to make him comply and kneel in front of you like a slut. You clicked your tongue and forcefully escaped from Adam's treacherous embrace.

"Alright Eagle. I challenge you into a beef" Adam called behind you.

"Carry on" You answered back while the crowds become immediately silent were watching you with great interest.

"A race. You and me. Right now. The loser become the slave of his opponent." Adam added with his usual disturbing smile.

For one of the first times since you were coming in S, it was one of your first beefs. Moreover, with the boss of all that mess. And finally, it involved something hidden behind all of this display. And you liked it. Why not enjoying fully the race and the aftermath. You used the back extremity of your skateboard you hit Adam in the belly and making him move backwards. You were almost ecstatic. You walked calmly until the start line, put lightly your skateboard on the ground and set your foot on the deck while you were waiting for Adam to come. Obviously, he made his way towards you.

"Mmh... I'll enjoy to turn you upside down after this race" Adam sensually whispered.

"Your self-confidence will kill you one day, filthy man" you replied with a dry tone.

"Let's say that now that I've lost my Eve, the only person in S having my attention is you my little dove. Be ready, I'm not going to be easy on you"

These last sentences would the death of you. His magma-like voice was burning your insides. How can someone warm you up so efficiently? That was a mystery. But you liked it. Adam was well-known to be kinky. You hated a little yourself at that time. You were falling for an insane guy who is now targeting you. Obviously, it was not in a romantic way. Yet, Adam remained a reachable fanstasm. And you were apparently one of his. The green fire came rapidly, thus the start of the race.

Adam became fastly the first. You forgot about everything and just tried to have fun. You were skating as if your board was a part of yourself, dodging rocks and Adam's attack. You knew very well that he didn't change that much after his first defeat here. He even did his little thing of holding you close to him with the sort of horns on his skateboard.

" I love the movement of your hips, so agile, so smooth, I can't prevent myself to wonder what it will feel like to love you fully until you will ache for attention under my touch. You are a snowboarder too, right?" Adam asked more or less.

"You could say that. But I'm not like that kid. I prefer half-pipes. Besides, you have really no shame, haven't you? Anyways, goodbye."

You increased your speed and left Adam behind. You were jumping the cliffs where the turns formed the shape of a snake with the lights in the night. While you were flying, you were shining with more and more complicated figures and graceful landings, making you significantly ahead of the blue-haired holy creature named Adam. He managed very quickly to catch you up. A little smile was playing on your lips. That was funny to see him a little bit in difficulty.

You were provoking him. That was unbelievable and remarkably bold of you to do so. You annoying smile was allowing to build desire and longing in Adam's heart. He was the king and yet, a little dove was playing with him shamelessly. Adam was so mesmerized by your own race that he barely realized he was in the factory. The screams of the people gathered in there dragged him from his thoughts. He saw you fly until the finish line and cross it. You win against him. A huge silent welcomed him.

"One of the first things you have not to lose when you run is your own concentration. I don't know what happened to you but it doesn't prevent that you weren't really skating. So for the beef, I cancel the slave thing." You declared when Adam went towards you.

You turned your back to him and headed to your motorbike followed by the blue-haired man. You didn't want to stay any longer. Adam's footsteps were soft behind yours.

"How can you cancel the slave thing, as you called it?" Adam demanded.

Seeing that he didn't have any answer, Adam reached you to catch your shoulder and make you turn to look at him.

"Because I'm the winner" you responded with a threatening tone.

"So having me doesn't interest you?" Adam questioned with a spark of deception.

"I didn't say that" you replied with a playful half-smile crossing your lips.

You were surrounded by darkness and no one cared anymore about you. For the people, you were remedying with your little issues about the beef. Nothing very interesting for them. Your hand climbed Adam's tensed thigh before going backwards to his ass and caressing it shamelessly. You heard the man getting a heavier breath and mumbling sinner sentences in your ear. You didn't even move when he came closer to enjoy the caress.

"Adam... You are such a slut... Look at you, you sound like a virgin discovering sex" You told with an incredible amount of heat on your voice.

You left your fingers coming down on his half-hard dick and rub it lightly. Just enough to give shivers to the man.

"Horny, aren't we?" you carried on while Adam was melting under your touch.

It was only simple caresses yet the man in front of you was letting himself go as if you were escaping and he won't have anymore opportunities to have you so close.

"More" demanded Adam while he has finally what he wanted so hard.

But you stopped here, creating frustration in the man.

"There's a love hotel down Crazy Rock. Come with your Grim Reaper costume." You requested with an overbearing tone.

Adam ordered to Tadashi who wasn't present in S that night to bring him to this place and the black clothes he was wearing against Langa. Once arrived in the building, he headed towards the receptionist who led him until the room. The space was dark and very classical for a love hotel but it was enough to arouse Adam. He felt as if your hands were still on him while he was changing his red costume. The memory of your hands trailing down his back to reach his ass and caressing it shamelessly was still unbelievably strong in his mind. Then he felt the touch join his cock, gently but still enough to make surrender to your touch. He desired you so much right now. Once he wore his Grim Reaper clothes, he laid down the mattress. He let himself go to the warmth he was feeling. He already wanted you so hard. He thought he was still dreaming when he felt the sudden touch of your hand on his neck.

"Ready to cum due to a shameless imagination. What a dirty little pet we have here. Were you planning to touch while you would wait for me? " You whispered in Adam's ear, getting him to have goosebumps.

Your fingers went down along his spine then reached the start of his ass. You were riding him from behind, each of your legs apart Ainosuke's body. You spanked his cheeks violently when you see you wouldn't get your answer, making the man moaning of both pain and pleasure.

"Use your tongue. You still have one, right?" you picked up after this unwanted silence.

"Yes" mumbled the submitted man.

"Louder. I don't hear you."you commanded.

"Yes"

He was speaking at the volume you wanted to listen. Loudly but not enough to disturb people out there.

"Better" you acknowledged with a neutral tone.

You got away from the position you have over Ainosuke. You were looking for the bad you brought with you. In the corner of your eye, you remarked the presence of a mirror. It could be useful but not now. You were secretly impatient to play with the king of S. You glanced at him and couldn't prevent a half-smile on your face. His hips were slightly higher than what would be normal. The blue-haired man was aching for your touch. Unhappily, it seemed sometimes you weren't as mean as some of masters with their human pet when it comes to tough, rough and painful but delicious sex. Well... It didn't matter actually. Your beautiful puppy lying on the mattress would love it anyway. You sincerely enjoyed the fact that this natural dominant male was completely under your control.

"Get up and kneel. Be rid of your clothes and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look at me I leave you here, tied and with a toy in your ass until you faint. Is that clear?" You ordered with a severe voice.

You didn't get any answer immediately.

"Yes". You heard behind you.

"Yes who?" You added.

"Yes Master" Adam ended while he just worked to be in his knees over the blankets.

The man got rid of his suit not so quickly. The fabric was comfortable and smooth, suiting perfectly his body. The memory of your touch was almost disappearing with him leaving aside all the clothes. He ended naked on the bed, his pale skin revealed to the air. He kept his eyes locked on the wall and he didn't have any access to the mirror to watch what you were doing. He only heard some noises somewhere behind him. Adam was shivering litghtly because of anticipation. He didn't want you to be kind with him. The rougher the better. Anyways, love and pain were both the faces of a coin, right? He submits but you serve.

Ainosuke felt your hand climbing along his leg and rest a few seconds on his thigh. You slided a lubed toy in his hole. You went as deeply as you could without bruising you pet and without leaving without any sensations. His insides were slightly stretched enough to emphasize the rubbing which you started from a few feets away.

You had the time to change in a black leathery pants and high boots, all black, with an open shirt lazily flying along your sides. After that, you were just watching Ainosuke's nakedness from behind. He was well-shaped. You couldn't say more. And this beautiful insane man was craving for your attention. You knew the effect the toy had. The more Adam was holding back his moan, the more the toy is going to make him lose his mind. You knew very well that the man had a certain endurance. Yet, it had no effect when the right points within his body were touched and loved.

You were still gentle. You could be more cruel and less careful about your little pet. Adam knew it very well. He was sure he looked like a little virgin taking pleasure for the first time but the thing inside of him suppressed all of his strength. He was grunting and moaning like a whore and he loved it. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't you.

"More..." Breathed the man while his whole body was totally shaking.

"More? Really?" you asked while you were enjoying the frustration on Adam's face and the red hue on his cheeks.

"Inside me... Touch me..."you went to caress Ainosuke's naked ass before spanking it another time.

"You have no permission to cum, dirty pet. I'll punish you otherwise."you warned with a threatening tone in your voice.

The heat was slightly consuming the blue-haired man and pleasure was way too heavy for him, almost choking sometimes. You would be the death of him if it carried on.

"Please..."Adam silently begged while you were heading to an armchair not far away from the display in front of you.

Were you sadistic? Probably. You had one of your legs hanging on the side of your seat and watching Ainosuke fighting the destroying pleasure inside of him. You were so desirable. No one would ever say the contrary. It was only the start for your adorable pet. But it wasn't enough for you.

"Come here." You commanded with a monotonous but commanding tone in your voice.

You saw Adam moving to reach you. He stumbled on the few meters he had to make to come at you. He knelt in front of you but it sounded more like he wasn't able to carry his own weigh. He was looking up at you with eyes tainted of pleasure. He caressed your legs as any good cat would do to please his master and get some food or any touch. Your hand reached his chin and you lift it without any delicacy. A few more and Adam was going to surrender and leaving himself being overwhelmed by pleasure. His red eyes were blurry and full of lust and you locked yours on his. Your hand went in his hair and you brought him closer to you.

"Take it. And do it well, slut" you requested with an overbearing tone.

You felt shaking hands roaming over your leather pants and undo the belts resting on your hips. His fingers freed your half-hard dick but he was too slow.

"Faster" you ordered.

Adam put his finger on the skin of your shaft, then his lips. You hardly held back a grunt of pleasure while you were feeling his hot mouth around your cock. That was divine but not enough. You settled your fingers in Ainosuke's hair and pulled it closer.

"Come on, slut"

The blue-haired man wasn't slow but it wasn't fast enough and it frustrated you. You ordered him for more speed and he did it. Adam was all focus on your pleasure, worshipping you with his tongue and his lips. It was warm inside his mouth. You wanted to dirty your sub with your seeds and make him feel like a doll in your hands. Besides, you increased the speed of the toy inside Adam's ass. He was fighting tou bring you pleasure and not to cum. His whole body must ache but you didn't really care. You wanted more. You helped a little Ainosuke with his movements. His tongue was caressing you shamelessly, and he was all focused on you. You were almost fucking his throat.

"You are really a whore my pet. Worse than a dog in heat. Loot at you"

You led his eyes to the mirror not far from you. Adam moaned when he saw the image of himself. The red hue on his cheeks while he was taking your cock into his mouth. The sight was mesmerizing. Then, lower, the pre-sperm was dripping from his own sex. Adam wasn't able to suffer it anymore and the last image had been the death of his limits and he cummed lankily on the ground. His muscles all tensed relaxed in a few seconds. He spilled his white liquid everywhere at the bottom of the armchair while he was moaning with your shaft still in his throat.

You raised your hand and gave him an echoing slap which made the blue-haired man fall on his back, covered of his dirty sperm. You perceived Adam hard cock raising between his legs.

"Kinky whore. You are not even able to handle it, right? Such a disobedient little puppy. You'll be punished, you know that, aren't you?" you threatened with a sweet voice, penetrating under Ainosuke's flesh.

You were watching your pet getting up from his position on the ground.

"Be happy that I'm not going to order you to lick it, silly kitten. On the bed, now. Twenty whiplash, and if you are not obedient, I'll double that number. Understood?"

"Please Master, no!" Adam surprisingly begged with and hoarse voice to you.

"This is the cost for your insolence and disobedience. It could be a hundred so take what I allow you" You replied without any softness.

You gave the order to your dog to be astride on the bed, on all four. Adam settled over the blankets and stayed still. The man heard you get the tool in your hand. And without telling him, he felt a painful burn on his ass, followed by your hand which rubbed it. Ainosuke heard himself grunt to the sudden soothing caress.

"It was the first. I won't be that kind after. Count them. At any mistake, It'll be thirty"

You blowed him again and your sub was counting but it was painful and red traces were appearing on his skin. You weren't soft with him and appreciated his delicious reactions of suffering and adoration. The toy was still in his ass, driving him crazy from both inside and outside. Adam wasn't able to keep up anymore and at the end on the punishment, he fell over the blankets, naked, full of shame, pleasure and love. He was crying due to the overwhelming amount of feelings. His shaft was so hard that it was painful and he wanted freedom from you. His pants were perceptible in the silence of the room. The blue-haired man felt your hand on his ribcage and forcefully turn him on his back.

He saw climb over the mattress and settle near him. Your finger roamed over your pet's belly and touch his nipples, making him shiver and grunt. Your softness was welcome for Adam. His body was aching due to tension and slaps but pleasure was still present in his blood and adrenaline was keeping him conscious. Suddenly, the toy Ainosuke had in his ass had a different movement, more intense, more rubbing and making him moan loudly.

"Did you seriously think it was ended?" you questioned with a playful tone. "No. Of course not".

You got up and put yourself in a riding way. You pushed your shaft inside Adam's mouth and start to fuck his throat again. Fingers curling down the sheets and becoming white. Your sub was testifying of this pleasure. And you were too. Your hips were getting faster and faster and Adam's eyes were rolling backwards while pleasure was burning him. You were silently moaning and keeping your features still but it was hard when your little pet's tongue was that agile and smart to find the areas able to make you shudder. It felt like eternity till you finally cummed inside of Ainosuke's mouth. Your sub swallowed everything and as a reward you ordered him to change of position and to rest on his belly. You removed the toy from his ass and caressed it softly.

"Master..." called quietly Adam.

"Mmh?" you responded with distance in your behavior towards him.

"Please. Fuck me." begged silently the man.

Where was Adam, the king of S, almost undefeated? Where was the show-off, the insane guy? You knew very well where he was. He was subdued to every of your desire now, drunken by pain and pleasure, knocked by envy. He wanted you in the simplest way. The incubus became the innocent virgin and you were his master. Nothing was left from the skater man that you met at the nightfall. He was just a body aching for softness after a hardship, pleading for quietness now. And more sincere than he never had been until tonight. He needed you.

"Please Master..." whispered again Adam.

But his begging stopped when Adam felt your dick against his hole. A slight moan escaped from him and you started to bury yourself in him. His insides were warm and comfortable but so tight. The rubbing was divine and you could help yourself but start to fuck his ass very slowly to push him to worship you. Adam had his hips hanging a little in air as you were thrusting to give you both an amazing amount of pleasure.

"P-Please Master... More..." moaned Adam while you were almost hitting his ass.

It was so nice to see the man so submitted to his needs coming from you. You couldn't help yourself but started to thrust more and more quickly and fastly. The sound of your flesh against each other was echoing in the room and you liked it. You got rougher and rougher but it was still nice and finally, you let yourself be. You felt Adam's hole tightening around your shaft for the second time. Your hands slide down his hips to find his own sex so as to apply languid caresses. It was too much for him and his muscled yet thin body sank on the bed and you followed him in his climax not long after him.

You were panting heavily and your pet was actually nearly fainting. You took him into a warm embrace and rubbed his skin to soothe him. You didn't have the time for a real aftercare because he fell asleep immediately. You would wait him to take a needed shower. For the time that you had, you left him be.

Adam had been a wonderful sub. You were happy. But you didn't have the intention to stay with him. If he wanted you, then maybe you should have a more serious and deeper conversation. But now, it wasn't what you wanted.

#sk8 adam #anime #anime boy #bad guy #ainosuke shindo x reader #sk8 ainosuke #shindo ainosuke #sk8 renga #miya chinen #sk8 miya #matcha blossom #sk8 scenarios #sk8edit #bxb #male reader #villain #lovers

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Golden II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hello. This is the second part of the Kakashi amnesia fic. I was so conflicted on what to do in this one and admittedly, I am not satisfied with this. Not completely. I really struggle writing the second part of a trio, and it's evident here.

Part three is up!

Word count: 4200

_______

Kakashi struggled to maintain his normal persona after Y/N got into the incident. He just couldn’t shake off that desperate need to be around her. At this point, it was just instinctual to look for her in the crowds, and expect to see her waiting for him each time he got home from a mission. He missed her laugh and her smile, and the people in the village did not help.

His only solace was on missions where he could forget about it all. It was an impossible struggle, especially when everyone and their mother was consoling him every time he stepped outside to do literally anything. He didn’t want people in his business, especially something so sensitive.

The mornings were now cold and depressing. Each time he rolled over in an attempt to throw his arm around his girlfriend, he was only met with the hollow space where she used to be. He would bury his face in his pillows and shut his eyes, just trying to drown out her voice from his mind. But her scent still lingered on his linens and buried deep into the pillows.

He imagined her groggy eyes opening just a peek to see if he was awake before her, and he usually was. She would smile and scoot close to his body, curling up and hugging him around the waist, her head resting against his chest. He missed wrapping her up in a cuddly hug, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

He missed going to get breakfast with her, and her ranting to him about this new novel the store had in shipment, comparing the plot to that of other books she had read and gushing over the character development or the vocabulary or a plot twist she'd never seen. She was always such a nerd, it was adorable.

And he missed meeting up with her each night as she closed the store, her hugging him so tight he could feel her heart beating against his. She'd attack his face with kisses and giggles, pulling down his mask in between the bookshelves where no one could see and gracing his lips with a kiss, or a dozen, depending on the day.

He just missed her. But he knew it was for the best-not knowing her anymore, not getting attached all over again, or letting her get close to him again. He thought of her amnesia as a fresh start, a way to break up with her without crushing her emotionally. She would never know what she was missing.

He would be the only one suffering, and that was better to him than the other way around.

For Kakashi, it was always hard to imagine he would get to a place in life where he felt comfortable enough with someone to maintain such a relationship. He didn’t think he would grow to have these moments with someone he loved. He worked through so many walls he had built up over the years, fought against all his paranoia and superstitions, and for what? To feel his heart break?

He felt betrayed, by whom, he had no idea. He just felt like the stars had aligned perfectly in favor of screwing him over the moment he was comfortable, the moment someone was able to squeeze into his heart and share their love. It would take time to get over his feelings for her, he knew that. The memories would always linger, but they wouldn’t cut through him like they did now.

For now, the only thing he could do was lie in his bed until his next mission the following day. Without her, he didn’t see any reason to get out of bed anyway.

______

Y/N returned to her apartment after being discharged from the hospital, and did as she was instructed to do. Each day she would look through her belongings, pictures, trinkets, anything that had emotional value, hoping it would bring out some of her old memories. Nothing really changed. Sometimes she could see flashes of people in her head that lived in the village. Kakashi, that guy in the green suit, Yamato, the sweet girl that took care of her all her days in the hospital. All of them appeared in her mind at one point or another, but nothing strong enough to give her any knowledge.

Tsunade told her to just keep trying and hopefully, something would fix itself. It seemed like a shot in the dark, but anything was worth a try.

It wasn’t until a few hours into the cleaning process, scrapping blood and ink out of carpets and stocking her shelves of the store, that she found something of real importance. Deep in the back of her front counter, hidden in a drawer, sat a small shoebox, filled with stacks of papers.

At first, she assumed they were probably just old receipts, but that was not the case.

Inside she found many things. Photos, notes, letters, and little trinkets all stacked carefully in the box like her previous self took extra special care of them. For this reason, she took the box to the table to sit down and go through everything one by one. Anything was worth a try, and maybe this would propel her recovery in motion..

First she examined the letters. They were very short, but full of information about her past self, and she found herself more intrigued and surprised with every word. Each one was from Kakashi, she noted that immediately. Out of all people, she could not imagine that man sitting and writing out anything nice or thoughtful to her.

But she was wrong.

They stated things about how he was on missions and wouldn't be back for a month or so at a time. He often stated how badly he wished to come back home and visit her bookstore again. How he was sorry for being gone so long that he couldn’t help around the store.

The first few, dated as far back as 7 years, were very friendly, nothing out of the ordinary for a correspondence between friends. It still seemed sketchy to her that Kakashi took time out of his day to send her letters, but not unbelievable. It wasn’t until they progressed right in front of her eyes that she was taking in every word with awe.

They detailed how much he missed seeing her face, which he often described as beautiful and precious. She was his motivator that kept him going each morning and through the long nights, he said. The man proclaimed his love over and over in the letters starting four years ago until the very last which was from a few months ago. He was never very descriptive or detailed, but he got across what needed to be said and what was on his mind very effectively.

She had no idea Kakashi felt that way about her. He really didn't act like they had any relationship at all. He actually spent most days avoiding her at all costs. Of course, she would see him walking down the street, and wave through the glass panels of her bookstore, not that he ever cared. He would usually take one look over at her, and then walk faster in the opposite direction.

To say her first impression of him was a bit off putting was an understatement. Where other people like Yamato treated her with kindness and humility, he seemed to think he was too good to try and reconnect. Although, he was certainly a handsome man and very courageous. She could vaguely see why her old self was at least physically attracted to him. Even if he wasn’t acting the nicest now, the letters led her to believe he was possibly a hopeless romantic.

She scanned through the other things in the box. The photos were ones of her with all her friends, but the majority were just Kakashi. The first few photos, the oldest, with the most damage around the frayed edges, were of them when they were much younger. He didn't have on the jounin vest he wore, and she had such a baby face to match a toothy grin. Maybe they were teenagers, 20 somethings? She couldn’t tell for sure.

The photos were just of them together. Sitting by certain sights or buildings, hugging, eating, on every kind of date you could imagine. It looked like she documented each one. Time stamps on the backs in whatever pen color she had at the time, scribbled details here and there.

It made sense now, why she had a pile of disposable cameras in her room. Dozens of photos of Kakashi, decades of memories all piled up in this box between the pair. It felt surreal, seeing herself in places she couldn’t recognize, in the arms of a man she barely knew.

She must have really loved him before. Their relationship was one of quite a few years from the looks of the things in this box, and obviously she cherished even the little moments. She felt guilt pang in her chest, and her stomach to turn over painfully. How he must have felt when she told him she didn't remember him. How it must feel walking past her in the street and knowing what they had was gone. She couldn't imagine the pain he had to be going through.

And he said that the entire thing was his fault. That day he walked into her hospital room, he apologized for what he did to her, saying that his family was the cause for this, and that he should have come to the store earlier to make sure something like that never happened. He wasn’t a superhero, despite what everyone thought of him. He was merely a man, a shinobi with a love for porn novels and dogs and one girl he desperately wanted to protect. Now that was gone.

Needless to say, she felt awful. It wasn’t her fault for not remembering him, but it sure felt that way.

She set everything back into the box and put it in its place under the counter before flipping the open sign to closed and heading out into the street. She knew where he lived, only because of the return addresses on the envelopes of the letters. She was still quite familiar with Konoha and it's workings, some of the street names hazy but there. She was now determined to make it to his apartment, even if she had to ask everyone in town to help navigate.

If he was on a mission, so be it, but if he was home, she wanted to see the man.

Thankfully, she realized that he lived only a few streets away from her when a street vendor pointed her in the right direction, but damn, he lived on the fourth floor and she inwardly cursed him. Her legs were still a bit shaky from the incident, and she hadn't healed completely. Stairs were a pain for her. This entire man seemed like a real pain, honestly.

She finally made it to the fourth floor after hobbling up like an old man, and knocked on the second door. She was going to have a conversation with this man, the same man who was keeping their history a secret this entire time without trying to make a connection again.

No one in this town wanted to explain anything to her. Yamato was nice but he always beat around the bush and left when things started getting informative. Sakura just fawned over her broken limbs and injuries. And the man in the green jumpsuit was too loud, she usually had to kick him out once she felt a headache coming on. Other than that, she didn’t have many friends. They’d told her her family died in a “jinchuriki” attack, whatever that meant, so she didn’t have any family to ask either.

As she waited at the door, she felt her stomach churn. Part of her was genuinely curious how her younger self fell for him and what they were like together. Like, what was the appeal? He seemed kinda strange and distant, and she couldn’t help but want cuddles and love constantly. It seemed like an odd match, and Y/N couldn’t help but question it.

Opposites attract, I guess.

After a couple seconds, the door opened a crack, and a half dressed man answered the door. She found her face heating up a bit. He wasn’t even exposed in any way, he just wasn’t wearing his headband, nor did he have his jacket on, revealing toned arms and fluffy, messy hair that she had to admit was pretty adorable. Okay, so she could definitely see herself falling for someone so handsome, but regardless, she was on a mission.

He looked startled to see her standing there in all her glory, out of breath and bent over like she’d run the whole way here. She held onto the doorway to balance herself. Perhaps she was just a tiny little bit out of breath from climbing the stairs still. Y/N apologized quickly, “Sorry, give me a second. Going up the stairs is really hard to do and you live on the fourth floor so, yeah.”

“Who told you where I live?” He questioned, scanning the walkway to make sure no one else was around to be listening.

“You did, actually,” she answered after taking a deep breath. “I found an old box of letters from you, and I just went to the return address.”

The letters. How could he forget about them? He had tried to rid her place of all signs of him, taking out pictures of the two of them together save for a few with other people included. He took out every single belonging he had. The only thing he missed was the letters, ones he didn’t even know Y/N had kept in the first place. He cursed himself.

Her reading the letters made him feel violated. Even if the letters were for her, it felt like a stranger had just read some of his deepest and most pathetic thoughts, the ones of love and adoration and depression all piled up in a few letters addressed to a Y/N he used to know. He felt sick thinking about what this woman now knew.

“Okay. Well, listen, you really shouldn’t just come to my apartment like this. I’m not fond of drop in visits.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I want, Kakashi Hatake, or should I say, my lover,” she laughed, resting one of her hands on her hip proudly. He felt himself wince at the sound of those words coming from her lips, seeing her childish grin. It reminded him too much of before, how they used to be, and he couldn’t handle that. Suddenly, he felt that familiar sickness rolling in his stomach. “How come you never said anything about it?”

“Because, I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Why? Obviously you were a very big part of my life and I, yours,” she asked.

He sighed and leant on the doorframe, his eyes never leaving the village over her shoulder, anything other than meeting her eyes. He really did not want to have this conversation with her. He would have talked her ear off about a month before when she actually had her memories and knew who she was, but today, with the way she was, he might as well be speaking to a stranger.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“It’s because I was going to leave you after the accident either way” he confessed, and she could only nod. It wasn’t like she was gonna get offended by his words, she didn’t even know him. He continued, “It makes me sick knowing that all this was my fault in the first place.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The reason that man and his lackeys kidnapped you is because of my father’s mistakes,” he sighed, “That bastard wanted to get revenge by hurting you, since you and I were close.”

She nodded, tapping the floor with her foot as she absorbed everything he’d said. That is what he alluded to before when they met in the hospital. She replied calmly, her tone so understanding it made him feel nauseous.“I see. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that your fault. You definitely didn’t directly cause anything to happen, if anything it was your father. I’m not offended at all.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t make this anyone's fault but mine.”

“Really, it’s not your fault. You could have never predicted this,” she tried to say, but he just went on, words flowing out faster than she could argue against them.

“It doesn’t matter. I knew that it was wrong to let you into my life. You would have lived just as happily if I’d have ignored you and let you meet some son of a baker, get married after a year, have a bunch of kids, shit, I don’t know,” he cursed. She could tell he was breaking down feelings he had been harboring for a while, and she pushed past him into his apartment, walking right under the arm he was resting on. This wasn’t something to talk about in public, out in the open. “I knew that if you were with me that you would never live a normal life, and I still let you fall in love with me, all because I was too selfish to put my own feelings aside.”

“Love shouldn’t be suppressed like that. You did what was natural.”

“Yeah, and look where that got us. Look where that got you, Y/N.” He waved to her bandaged legs. “You’re never going to remember me again, so it doesn’t matter if I rekindle our relationship, does it?”

She took a seat on the edge of his bed to rest her tired legs. He seemed so angry with himself, so much self hate radiating from his person. He was hurting so badly, and she just wished he would let her comfort him.

For a moment, she wondered if he would let her hold him like before, so he could pretend that things hadn’t gone wrong, even for a short time. Put his mind at ease if only for a short while. Y/N refrained from saying anything, though. Physical touch was probably one of the worst things for him right now, especially from her.

Instead, she meditated on what he said. She sat there fiddling with her fingers, trying to figure out what to say to him, anything that would make the situation easier for him. All she ever wanted was to make life easier for others, and if her way of doing so was being kind and thoughtful toward these worn shinobi, then that is what she would do.

She leaned back on her hands and let out a soft sigh, words surfacing in her brain that might just do the trick. “Kakashi, do you want to hear something that might bring you hope?”

“Whatever,” he brushed off, not thinking anything she could say would make the situation better. He’d tried for a month to make things better and nothing was working.

“I’ve been having dreams. Dreams of the past, dreams of memories that I have forgotten. When I look through photos, new images appear of people that I used to know,” she told him softly. “Tsunade says that means I’ll regain my memories with time, it’s just taking a bit longer than we had hoped. She thinks I can get everything back. The girl that you used to know.”

He stood there for a moment, just processing what she said. He could feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest, and he lifted his eyes slowly to meet her own. She always had such soft, gentle eyes, even now. “Do you have any dreams of me?” He was hesitant to ask, but she gladly nodded. “What do you remember?”

“Well, it’s mostly just snapshots here and there of you and everyone else. Short little tibbits of what life used to be like. I know Yamato has wood nature jutsu because in one of my dreams he had summoned this ginormous tree. I know there is a younger guy with the most yellow hair I’ve ever seen. I know that you have a red eye under the headband, but I don’t know what it’s for,” she explained, listing off some examples of things shehad dreamed of.

He hummed. “Firstly, you’re right about Yamato. He’s actually the only one alive who can use that jutsu.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Is that why he’s head of the...uh, that group? The ones with the animal masks?” she asked, feeling foolish at her lack of knowledge.

He let out the tiniest of chuckles, just a hint of one. “It’s actually ANBU, but good on you for knowing about them. And it’s not just because of his wood jutsu, he is also a very skilled and strong shinobi. He is a good team leader,” he explained. For a moment, he almost found it fun to listen to her struggle to remember things and then help her out. He noticed the way her nose crinkled when she was thinking especially hard about something, and god, it reminded him of before. He felt his heart thawing with each look her way.

Kakashi shut his front door and walked over to the other side of his bed. He took a seat against the wall, kicking out his legs. He was beginning to relax. “And about the yellow haired kid? That’s one of my students, Naruto Uzumaki. He’s a handful, but also a very talented, determined shinobi.”

She mouthed the name to herself a couple times, trying to memorize it. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t be too sure. A lot of things sounded like she should remember them, and she couldn’t exactly figure out which were right.

“And your red eye?”

“It’s a long story, and we won’t go into it. Simply put, this eye is called the sharingan. It’s a special dojutsu that only members of the Uchiha clan possess.”

“So you’re part Uchiha?”

“No. That’s the part I’m not gonna get into,” he brushed off her question. That was something that he really did not want to discuss again. He’d already told her the story once, he didn’t need to do it a second time, even if she had amnesia. When he looked over at her, she looked so familiar. Her eyes were filled with happiness, and he noticed that her lips were curled up into a sweet smile. “What are you happy about?”

She shook her head and turned her head to hide the upward curl of her lips. She was just so glad, her whole body felt warmer because of it. “Because you are being nice to me and explaining things. No one really explains things to me, they just skip around stuff usually,” she confessed as she tapped her heels together.

He could only shake his head at that. “You deserve to know at least the basic stuff, just until you get your memory back.”

“Hmm? You’ll explain any of my memories? Like any of them?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Oh, yeah, well explain this dream I had.”

“Shoot.”

Her smile took a mischievous turn, and he definitely noticed the change. He could only imagine what she was about to ask. “I’ll give you a hint...I know what you look like completely naked,” she giggled, falling back on the bed and covering her face with her hands.

“And you call me the pervert…” he sighed, crossing his arms behind his neck. Her laugh, it was like music to his ears. No matter what she could say, he was just relieved to feel her beside him, gleaming with a happiness he missed for nearly a month now.

“I really had a sex dream about you the other night, but you can imagine my confusion. I was like, what the hell, I don’t even know the guy,” Y/N laughed, “It all makes sense now.”

He rolled his eyes at her sense of humor. Things felt so normal, like before. He felt his chest grow warm at the feeling. Kakashi’s lips cracked into a grin under his mask, not that it mattered to wear the mask. She already saw his face in a dream, it seemed kinda pointless if they were alone.

Maybe he would let things go back to normal. Maybe he would talk to her more, and let her visit when he was home. Maybe he could go to her store when she waved to him instead of running away like a coward. Maybe he could let himself be happy, despite his faults, despite what happened to her. The wounds could be mended, he decided.

He just couldn’t help but be selfish and let her back in.

#kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #naruto imagine #naruto one shot #i really love reader in this #i would marry her if i could #steal her from kakashi lol

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afieldinengland · 2 years

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Dear lamb, what are your thoughts on the permanence of nature, of wildlife, and it's humility with us as humans?

And, well, hello, I thought to reveal myself in some long dramatic rambling, but I don't want to draw that kind of attention to myself. As always, I hope you are well or will be doing well soon, beautiful lamb.-🕯

oh, my 💓 hello, there— what a joy to be able to put a name to such sweet words :) i must admit i did have my suspicions about who such a passionate admirer could be, thank you for revealing yourself at last. i’m very well, thank you, and i do hope you are too— i hope your day’s been as gentle and sweet to you as you are to me. as for your prompt, oh, my, i have plenty of thoughts, often i think of nothing else…. good god, nature loves us so, and people are so violent and so selfish with her it breaks my heart. nature loves us, it wants us both to eat well. it could crush us like a rotten hazelnut if it pleased, but doesn’t, even as people grind its bones to make their bread, as it were, if you’ll forgive the allusion to fairytale. and yet you’re right, it’s still a constant thing that is so much larger and more cosmic than ourselves; the seasons keep turning no matter what, and ultimately we all return to nature regardless of how selfishly we’ve tried to forget ourselves. it’s beautiful and it’s terrible and it’s reassuring, the fact that nature will tolerate no human being’s insubordination, or pretending to be above the earth they came from. decay and birth are both cornerstones of ever-mutable, ever-immutable nature. in death we come back as children to the trunk of the tree to be smilingly chastised, blessed, embraced, and taken back down into the mud for the birds to have

#answered #oh 💓 hello there :) i do hope you’re well— thank you for coming from behind the candlelight it’s a joy to know you a little better #🕯

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kasha-formerlydrabbletastic · 3 years

Text

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff.

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket.

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice.

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head.

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment.

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision.

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea.

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself.

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend.

Or so you thought.

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite.

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell.

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking.

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger.

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice.

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make.

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong.

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him.

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there.

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face.

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk.

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand.

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity.

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front.

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied.

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #steve rogers fluff #avengers fluff #captain america fluff

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ardenssolis · 3 years

Text

@tenkoseiensei said (inbox):

‘ ramses , ‘ such sorrow, such heartbreak. the queen of egypt’s eyes water with genuine recognition, and an equal discontent. she steps with all the gentle grace of a goddess, ‘til she stands before him, and delicately touches his skin. the same way she has always touched him, both seeking and giving his affections: digits at his arm, palm cupping his cheek. ‘ why are you here ? ‘ tenderness and wonder, with a bitter edge. her touch slowly turns cold, but does not separate, delicateness turning into a stinging grip, refusing to let him get away from her by the dig of her nails. ‘ what have you done ? ‘ the anger and accusation is palpable, now. ‘ what have you done to them ? to us ? did you think i could ever forgive you ? even after a hundred, a thousand years, has my grudge not only grown ? did you truly believe that i could still love a pharaoh who allowed his own son , and the sons of his people to suffer and perish at the hands of a heretic god ? did you think i could forgive you for immortalizing us like this , as lovers , when you had let die what was most precious between us ? you lived on , but it was not punishment enough . ‘ that visage turns to stone, that sweet voice to ice, as the doppelganger instantly seeks to plunge in a knife into the heart it would have hoped to soften, exposed always to one more than the rest . there is nothing in her eyes but possessing vengeance. ‘ die for me , my beloved ozymandias . make up for your inescapable sins . ‘

OZYMANDIAS STOOD STILL, MOUTH agape and emotion scrawled across his features so vibrantly that none could ever wonder what he was feeling in that single instant. For a moment, he wondered if he was caught in a dream despite him knowing the foolishness of that particular thought. After all, he had ceased dreaming a long time ago. ❝N-Nefertari?❞ he whispered, his words but a soft sigh of both longing and uncertainty. If this was no dream, then it had to be real, right? This was real, was it not? If so…why was she present in this world when she should still be at rest with the rest of their family? As her hands, so soft and delicate like a blossom’s petals, touched him, he instantly melted – leaned into it even as if to soak up the warmth of her palm. ❝Why...? I am here because I was summoned here.❞ Was he not back in Chaldea? He tore his gaze from hers, giving his current scenery a quick glance over.

Where was he?

Although his mind was a muddled mess of confusion, he could not help but hear the sharpness in Nefertari’s tone – the accusation and the bitterness there. It stung him, wounded him, more than any weapon ever could. Even if he were torn asunder, that would have been nothing compared to what he felt now as each word was akin to a fierce blow. His joy soon melted away into grief and guilt, the emotion weaving its way through his throat and squeezing his heart in a vice grip. He took a step back from her, a stumble unbecoming of a king who crowed their greatness for all to hear. ❝I will not deny my grave mistakes,❞ he managed to say, his hands falling back to his sides and his posture no longer straight and proud. ❝But I had not known – I had not thought that…❞ He had thought that if anything, that foreign deity would have struck him down.

He expected it.

Waited for it.

Ozymandias had been prepared to die for the sake of his own foolish, foolish pride. None could ever say that he had been a weak king as he met his death with head held high. However, this was not what took place. As if noting that this would not be enough, instead, his son was taken from him along with the lives of countless others in a single night to force humility into him as well as to remind him that he was no god, but a mere man who likened himself to one (a weak man whose power was but a show). Those who had been resting in their beds were suddenly cold and lifeless the next day, and the sounds that filled Egypt as many fell upon their knees and wept – held their hands up to the sky begging through tears for mercy from gods who were silent to their plight – crushed his spirit. If Nefertari had denounced him, if she had spit at his feet and cursed his name, that would have only further destroyed what was left of the pharaoh known as Ramses.

He had thought that she forgave him, though. When her arms had wrapped around him and she said that she could never hate him through her own tears and hurts, he had thought those words to be true. His Beloved, his very sun whom he had wounded more than any ever could in this vast world… Oh how he had wished that she had screamed her loathing at him rather than sought to comfort HIM of all people – he who was most undeserving! Even now as she said the words he had expected that night, he knew it to be so... ❝Was this how you always felt? Had everything been a lie back then?❞ Upon her death bed, had she been glad to be free of him? No…NO! This wasn’t true! She would never – this in itself was a lie! But he didn’t know what to make of any of this. What was real? What was false? He didn’t know!

‘Make up for your inescapable sins.’

‘Die for me.’

How could he die when he was already gone? He no longer could reach the realms of the Duat, his soul torn from any place of rest with very little chance of being able to follow the path that countless others had. Was that not punishment enough? To never be able to see his loved ones again? To only long for them in ancient memories and using that as a means of warming him on nights that were far too cold? Only fools believed that being a Heroic Spirit was something to applaud. It was a curse. ❝Enough!❞ He lifted his hand, covering is face despite how the eyes that peeked through fingers reflected his deepest anguish. ❝I will hear no more of this!❞ Ozymandias wanted to wake up. He didn’t want to dream any longer---!

#[IM ABOUT TO GO FERAL FJKDSHFKFHKDSHFKSDFHKSHFKSS]#tenkoseiensei #;v: chaldea days #;;f.go #answered #;;inbox

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dfroza · 1 month

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for march 15 of 2024 with Proverbs 15 and Psalm 15, accompanied by Psalm 86 for the 86th day of Astronomical Winter and Psalm 75 for day 75 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 15]

A tender answer turns away rage,

but a prickly reply spikes anger.

The words of the wise extend knowledge,

but foolish people utter nonsense.

The Eternal can see all things;

His gaze is fixed on both the evil and the good.

A word of encouragement heals the one who receives it,

but a deceitful word breaks the spirit.

Fools refuse their parents’ guidance,

but sensible children accept correction.

Great treasure may be found where the right-living make their home,

but trouble awaits the wicked at every turn.

When the wise speak, knowledge spreads far and wide,

but fools care nothing about such matters.

When the wicked offer sacrifices, they disgust the Eternal,

but the prayers of those who do right are a pleasure to Him.

The lifestyle of the wicked is repulsive to Him,

while those who do right delight Him.

Harsh punishment is waiting for those who reject the path of life,

and those who hate correction will die.

The grave and destruction are fully exposed before the Eternal;

how much more does He know the thoughts of Adam’s children!

Those who mock others don’t like being corrected,

so they keep their distance from the wise.

A warm, smiling face reveals a joy-filled heart,

but heartache crushes the spirit and darkens the appearance.

Those who have understanding hearts hunger after knowledge,

but those with no understanding feast on foolishness.

The poor and oppressed suffer hardship day after day,

but those with kind hearts continually feast.

It is better to live with less and honor the Eternal

than to have riches and carry the burdens that come with them.

Better to eat only vegetables served lovingly

than a fattened ox served hatefully.

A hot-headed person stirs up trouble,

but one with patience settles a fight.

Lazy people walk a path overgrown with thornbushes,

but those with integrity travel a wide, level road.

A wise child makes his father happy,

but a foolish man despises his mother.

Foolishness brings sheer joy to those who have no sense,

but people with insight steer a straight course through life.

Plans fall apart without proper advice;

but with the right guidance, they come together nicely.

There is great joy in having the right answer,

and how sweet is the right word at the right time!

For the wise the road of life climbs up steep grades

in order to avoid the slide down to the grave.

The Eternal splinters the house of the haughty,

but He secures the property of widows.

The thoughts of the wrongdoers repulse the Eternal,

but kind words are pure pleasure for Him.

Those who take illegal gains injure their families,

but those who refuse a bribe will live in peace.

The right-living think before they speak,

but wrongdoers simply spew evil.

The Eternal stays far from the wrongdoers,

but He listens to the prayer of the right-living.

Bright eyes and a cheerful expression bring joy to the heart,

and good news revives the spirit and renews health.

Those who learn from the lessons of life

will join the others who are wise.

Those who disregard discipline sabotage themselves,

but those who are open to correction gain understanding.

Reverence for the Eternal is the first lesson of wisdom,

and humility always precedes honor.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

A recurring theme in the psalms is the dwelling place of God and its importance in worship. This Davidic psalm considers the moral qualities of the person who wishes to approach God.

[Psalm 86]

A prayer of David.

O Eternal One, lend an ear to my prayer and answer me,

for I am weak and wanting.

Safeguard my soul, for I remain loyal to You.

Save me, Your servant, who trusts in You, my God.

O Lord, please be merciful to me,

as all day long I cry out to You.

Bring joy into the life of Your servant,

for it’s only to You, O Lord, that I offer my soul.

O Lord, You are good and ready to forgive;

Your loyal love flows generously over all who cry out to You.

O Eternal One, lend an ear and hear my prayer;

listen to my pleading voice.

When times of trouble come, I will call to You

because I know You will respond to me.

O Lord, You stand alone among the other gods;

nothing they have done compares to Your wonderful works.

O Lord, all the peoples of earth—every nation You established—

will come to You, bowing low to worship,

and rightly honor Your great name.

For You are great, and Your works are wondrous;

You are the one True God.

O Eternal One, guide me along Your path

so that I will live in Your truth.

Unite my divided heart so that I will fear Your great name.

O Lord, my God! I praise You with all that I am.

I will rightly honor Your great name forever.

For Your loyal love for me is so great it is beyond comparison.

You have rescued my soul from the depths of the grave.

O True God, arrogant people are after me.

A violent gang wants to kill me;

they have no interest in You or Your ways.

But Lord, You are a God full of compassion, generous in grace,

slow to anger, and boundless in loyal love and truth.

Look at me, and grant me Your favor.

Invest Your strength in me, Your servant,

and rescue me, Your handmaiden’s child.

Give me a sign so I may know Your goodness rests on me

and so those who hate me will be red with shame at the sight of it.

For You, O Eternal One, have come to my aid and offered me relief.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 86 (The Voice)

[Psalm 75]

For the worship leader. A song of Asaph to the tune “Do Not Destroy.”

We thank You, O True God.

Our souls are overflowing with thanks! Your name is near;

Your people remember and tell of Your marvelous works and wonders.

You say, “At the time that I choose,

I will judge and do so fairly.

When the earth and everyone living upon it spin into chaos,

I am the One who stabilizes and supports it.”

[pause]

“I discipline the arrogant by telling them, ‘No more bragging.’

I discipline the wicked by saying, ‘Do not raise your horn to demonstrate your power.

Do not thrust your horn into the air, issuing a challenge,

and never speak with insolence when you address Me.’”

There is no one on earth who can raise up another to grant honor,

not from the east or the west, not from the desert.

There is no one. God is the only One.

God is the only Judge.

He is the only One who can ruin or redeem a man.

For the Eternal holds a full cup of wine in His hand—

a chalice well stirred and foaming full of wrath.

He pours the cup out,

and all wicked people of the earth drink it up—every drop of it!

But I will tell of His great deeds forever.

I will sing praises to Jacob’s True God.

I will cut off the horns of strength raised by the wicked,

but I will lift up the horns of strength of the righteous.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 75 (The Voice)

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maxparkhurst · 3 years

Text

Whispers

Breathe.

Saliva pooled behind Max’s tongue. Honey-suckle sweet, it stained her throat and drowned the worry nipping at her stomach. A hum touched her lips when the last of the powder dissolved. Eyes closed and hidden under the crook of her arm, she allowed the weight of the sky to press on her chest.

Breathe.

She drifted through a murky haze fringed with blended edges and distant memories. The haze was somewhere above the sounds. Sound was west of the moon and south of her eyes. A bell tolled in the distance. Gulls squalled over the horizon. Drunken revelry echoed from the streets. For a stretch of time, those sounds were the only tether to reality. She clung to them like a child to their blanket as she floated further and further into the dark.

Breathe.

But sometimes the sounds faded, and then there was only the haze. Warm, euphoric haze that coated her skin in goosed flesh. Laughter bubbled in her chest as she peeked her eyes open. Stars filled the sky like smatterings of paint on an endless canvas. It was the most beautiful art, alive with raw energy that promised life in the darkness, and warmth in the cold. She smiled in spite of the muted fear. A smile dripping with bliss and sweetness; one that managed to touch her eyes as she searched the vastness. It brought a sense of humility, peering into an eternal space, that begot gratitude for the coziness of home.

Breathe.

She couldn’t help but wonder…

Why did she start fearing the sky...

…When it was so beautiful?

Slowly, Max unfurled her fingers from the tether. Allowed the sounds to be smothered by the haze. She felt weightless, lighter than air and brighter than the stars, as she took a breath in and reached for the sky. A flame that woke from its slumber. And as she emerged from her callused hearth, she had a thought which existed apart from herself. This thought was of the closed door to her father’s study. Papa retired to his study every evening upon returning from the forge. Brought with him the lingering scent of soot and ash that stained everything he passed. He closed the door behind him, leaving only the blackened taste to comfort Max in the evening’s shadows. She lurked outside his door when she knew him to be half a bottle deep into the evening. Huddled in the light that slithered from under the crevice. She felt small beneath the dark. No more than a child searching for comfort of knowing why things were the way they are…

Y̸o̶'̴r̸o̶o̸ ̵w̵a̶e̷'̴l̷l̴l̵l̷ ̸b̴e̷'̵r̸ ̷w̶o̵'̸r̷r̸e̴s̴a̶v̵a̷e̶'̴p̵p̷e̷'̷r̶d̵

Max pressed her cheek into the floorboards. Something spoke beneath them. She could feel them vibrate somehow, whispering in a way ears cannot hear. Tender, soft, and almost friendly it spoke.

Y̸o̶'̴r̸o̶o̸ ̵w̵a̶e̷'̴l̷l̴l̵l̷ ̸b̴e̷'̵r̸ ̷w̶o̵'̸r̷r̸e̴s̴a̶v̵a̷e̶'̴p̵p̷e̷'̷r̶̵

She smiled. The wood smothered its voice. But she was practiced in listening. She coaxed their words from the cracks and imperfections. Beckoned the little shadows to speak louder.

Y̸o̶'̴r̸o̶o̸ ̵w̵a̶e̷'̴l̷l̴l̵l̷ ̸b̴e̷'̵r̸ ̷w̶o̵'̸r̷r̸e̴s̴a̶v̵a̷e̶'̴p̵p̷e̷'̷r̶d̵

The promise of knowledge…

...And she wished to know...

So. Many. Things...

The light under Papa’s door flickered and crept away from the whispering floorboards, chased by eddying shadows. They rolled from the crevices and embraced Max in their warmth, whispering secrets in her ear. She’s heard this voice somewhere before... A place beyond this murky fog.

But the whispers faded,

And then there was only the haze.

Breathe.

Max receded back into her wick with a sputtering breath that escaped as an airless cackle. She let her outstretched hand drop to the shingles. Such funny shadows that coalesced in the sky. She traced their brushstrokes through the stars, an absent grin tugging at her lips, and let herself drift through their infinite spiral. The lingering bliss in the back of her throat made them all the sweeter. And somewhere, in the distance, the clock bell tolled.

She walked a path not marked by map or sign, but by another’s nightly ritual. The nauseating chill still danced down her arm from the charcoal-etched rune on her palm. It reminded Max of Mary’s warning: be a river stone and let the whispers run over you. In the center of the sphere was a cold, dull marble. It grew colder the closer she drew to the Harbor’s Edge.

There were marks in the stones that belied a certain desperation. As if something were clawing for purchase- eager to stay. The planter above them was discolored. A portion of it aged and weathered for decades while the rest remained pristine with budding ferns growing from the decrepit husks of their predecessors. The air was icy like the breath of specters. And the sphere responded in kind, drawing closer to the echo which lingered.

Max reached out to the sphere’s beckon. Opened herself to the dark and the quiet for answers...

And in their depths she heard the whispers.

Y̸o̶'̴r̸o̶o̸ ̵w̵a̶e̷'̴l̷l̴l̵l̷ ̸b̴e̷'̵r̸ ̷w̶o̵'̸r̷r̸e̴s̴a̶v̵a̷e̶'̴p̵p̷e̷'̷r̶d̵

Ever quiet. Ever tempting. Ever fading...

And then there was the sound of the window’s latch.

Breathe.

Max picked her head up in time to catch Augustine clamber onto the roof. She watched in silence as he shuffled along the shingles and paused just short of her head. Concern shone in his eyes. They glimmered like the pin-pricks of light strewn across the ebon sky. They were the same as her eyes. The same as their father’s.

Papa’s eyes were sad. Guilt riddled. Hidden behind the door-

I̷ ̶c̸a̸n̴ ̵t̵e̸a̸c̵h̸ ̴y̴o̵u̶ ̸s̷o̵ ̷m̶u̵c̵h̷

“Max?”

Breathe.

A tender grin curled at the edge of her lips as she mused, “Augustine.”

Augustine settled next to Max. Curled his legs to his chin and rested his chin on top. From the corner of his eyes, he peered at her with an air of skepticism. “Are you alright?”

Max took a deep breathe. And in that interim, she quietly wove her fingers through the tether. Searched the air for the evening’s sounds and clung to them. No longer a flame reaching for the sky or a shadow swirling through the dark, she forced herself to stay grounded in reality. With that came the crushing weight of the sky. “I am well.”

One hand stuffed the velvet pouch further in her pocket while the other beckoned for her brother’s hand. Her smile brightened when he obliged her request. “How are you feeling?”

Augustine kept his gaze trained on the neighboring buildings. His visage calm, almost stoic save for the twitch of his nose. “I'm...Fine.”

“Just fine?”

Another twitch - “Yes.” - and then a pause. He slowly turned his attention onto Max, lips curling in a disquiet smile. “No. I’m...” - a sigh escaped- “Worried. About you.”

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “What is there to be worried about? I am here and I am well.” She brought her other hand up and tapped him on the nose. “And you are here and you are well. There isn’t much more we can ask for, now is there?”

He swatted her hand away, and though he tried to ignore it an ounce of relief crept on his lips. His grin was short lived as melancholy settled in his eyes. “You say you’re fine, but I don’t always think you mean it...”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

His silence answered her question.

Max heaved a sigh. “I see...” she murmured, draping an arm over her eyes, “Like brother, like sister then. You aren’t honest either.” She released his hand, brought her own to rest on the shingles. “I want you to know this and know it as truth: So long as you are alive and well, I shall find reason to be fine.” From under the folds of her shirt, she stole a glance at him. “It’s the promise I made to both Papa and you.”

Augustine nodded thoughtfully. “And what if,” he began after a moment, “I am only well when you are fine?”

“Then we’re at an impasse,” she mused.

He shot her a rueful look accented by a sly smirk. “As it should be then. As it is written?”

Max chuffed. She threw herself upright and playfully shoved him. Unfiltered laughter boiled over from them both as they leaned into each other. “Yes,” -she turned her gaze to the shadows below- “As it is written.”

And as the tension between them settled, Max found an inkling of melancholy conjured by the sobering idea of losing a sibling. By knowing that someone out there wasn’t able to lean on their sister for comfort.

[Mentions: @foxglovethings @longveil]

#The Alchemists #| Listen to Whispers |#Max Parkhurst #more experimental writing

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