#yes i am aware this raises way more questions about my interpretation than it answers

[sectumsempress1]

Good Omens Season 3: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Sectumsempress1, Hag

Or that one time I watched Good Omens, felt the claws of hyperfixation sink into my flesh for the first time in years, re-watched Good Omens more times than I care to admit and then drowned in a mind palace of analysis and delusion, resulting in this season 3 predictions bingo card coupled with unnecessarily long explanations for each square.

I'm gonna post these explanations one or two squares at a time, and honestly my first theory (probably not mine, I'm sure others have also come to this conclusion) deserves its own post because wowee I'm insane about this one.

Let's talk about why I think Crowley may have been Jophiel or Jeremiel before they fell.

I have seen endless theories about who Crowley could have been before The Fall; Lucifer, Barachiel, Raphael, Samael... and I see some evidence for all of these. However, I raise you;

Great question babygirl.

Okay me when I lie.

Yes, I took this throwaway line and went insane over it don't worry about it. Anyway. First J angel that I think could make sense is:

Jophiel "Beauty of God"

Jophiel is described in some texts as the guardian of wisdom and a teacher of languages to souls at the dawn of creation. She is also recognised as a teacher to Noah's children (specifically Shem) by C.E. Clement, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa and Thomas Rudd.

And yes I am aware this is post-Fall Crowley and not the angel they were, but it's interesting that Shem was mentioned specifically regardless. Neil has wounded me so, I just feel that nothing is unintentional. Anyway, any iteration of Crowley as a teacher just feels right based on all we've seen of them.

(How he acts with Muriel, answering Jim's questions, showing Jesus the kingdoms of the world.)

Jophiel is also heavily associated with beauty and creativity.

Okay Mr. 'Pointedly Unusual Imagination.' Bit beautiful and creative of you.

Now here's where it gets buck wild. So Jophiel is not explicitly mentioned in the bible (in fact only Michael, Raphael and Gabriel are consistently mentioned) but scholars interpret Genesis 3:24 as referring to him.

"He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and aflaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life."

Yeah. It is widely agreed upon that Archangel Jophiel wielded the flaming sword and cast Adam and Eve out of Eden. Now, obviously, in Good Omens canon, Aziraphale did this. But... what if that wasn't the original plan? What if, after Jophiel and the others were cast out, the work rosters in Heaven had to be shuffled around a bit? And what if Aziraphale, having met this beautiful, curious starmaker so long ago took on their role himself?

What if Crowley and Aziraphale began the arrangement long before either of them had the words to understand what it was? All because the angel couldn't understand why he felt so drawn to the Fallen who couldn't remember.

(Edited because I've already come up with a new theory. I still stand by all of this and want it to be true so badly, but I think that Crowley does remember. I think Aziraphale is the one whose memory may have been tampered with. That doesn't change the core of the Jophiel theory, I just think that upon reflection, a personal relationship with Crowley is not what caused Aziraphale to take his old job.)

It also makes sense to then make Crowley the Serpent of Eden, if they had perhaps already planned to go to Eden anyway.

Jophiel is also widely known as Metatron's companion, which explains why he is so aggressive towards Crowley in a really cold, personal way. Yes, Metatron knows of everyone and everything so him knowing Crowley's story isn't odd in itself. But the glare...

To me, this reads as "I know you. I've known you. I know exactly what you're capable of and I will not take it. Not again. Behave." It's like a glare a parent would give their toddler for misbehaving in public. It feels pointedly personal. Almost as though they've worked together in the past in a way that ended badly for Metatron and he is on high alert to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Again here. Metatron doesn't speak about Crowley in a general 'all fallen angels suck' sense. It's personal. His choice of words, the tone, everything points to him having been personally wronged by the angel Crowley was.

Also just look at Jophiel's goddamn curly little red hair are you kidding me right now Neil Gaiman I am in your WALLS.

Also some more fun facts: Jophiel is shown as male and female presenting, leads people to a deeper understanding of the beauty of the universe, is regarded as an angel of wisdom, is known to protect those who seek truth, battles against forces of darkness and ignorance... and is strongly associated with the colour yellow.

Nice eyes babe.

Anyway, I am so delulu about this specific theory because if it is true it would show Aziraphale and Crowley's grand cosmic connection in a way that is honestly just ineffable.

But however much I long for Jophiel to be it... there is also some evidence for it being:

Jeramheel/Jeremiel "God shall have mercy"

In religious texts, Jeremiel is known as the angel who presides over true visions, often appearing in dreams and visions to bring truth. He appears to decipher Baruch's visions and give him a tour of heaven in the book '2 Baruch', and God sends him to answer the prophet Ezra's questions regarding the apocalypse in the book '2 Esdras'.

He also served as an angel of death, watching over and guiding souls to heaven and helping them learn from their earthly experiences.

This again goes back to Crowley's belief that everyone has the right to answers and being a good teacher because of that. It would make sense for them to have had this role in their angelic days as well, despite it eventually coming back to bite them.

Jeremiel is often depicted with a book or a scroll, symbolising the importance of knowledge.

Also, while Zadkiel is known as the angel of forgiveness and mercy, many people also consider Jeremiel (god shall have mercy) in this role... which would make Aziraphale's constant attempts to forgive him and his insistence that he is unforgivable even more devastating, and why I have ongoing theories about a role reversal occurring when it comes to this theme of forgiveness (more on this later).

Right. So I am obviously clutching at my delusion of it being Jophiel, but Jeremiel is a wider known angel with more canonical basis for actually being an archangel, which is why he also makes a lot of sense to me.

Thank you for joining me in this downward spiral into insanity. Look forward to part two!

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens spoilers #good omens predictions #good omens season 3 #angel crowley #good omens theory

[floareadeaur]

Hii, I have a question about Rigr and Urd! How do you feel about Rigr and Urd resolving their “sibling” issues? I feel like the author breezed past Urd and Rigr’s problems way too fast. I think Kagami should’ve gone more in-depth on their emotions due to them being distant for so long. Recently, in these chapters I’m kind of disappointed that Urd has just been following along with Rigr’s plans without any retaliation. I feel like they deserved more serious/intense moments towards each other compared to what we have seen so far. What do you think?🤔 😁

Hello!

This is an interesting question. Thank you very much for trusting me to ask this.

I understand what you are saying, yes. But, I still think that the author wants to convey a certain message by the way he presented their brotherly relationship, something important about both of them.

To explain my interpretation and answer your question as clearly as possible, we must begin by pointing out what the problem was between Rígr and Urd.

Why Rígr left, why Urd is angry with him.

" The hell you are!

I refuse to allow you to leave! "

"You'll stay...

...Rígr."

It is very clear that Urd's wish was for his brother to be with him. Indeed, it did not matter what they did: that they kept the order of vampire society, that they guarded the world, or that they raised cows on a farm (which is not a bad idea at all), what mattered to Urd was not what he did with Rígr, but for his brother to be by his side regardless.

I emphasize this very much, especially since their origin as souls shows it.

Bael, the original reincarnation of Urd, effectively committed suicide, choosing to live in Hell only to be with Paimon, his brother.

Through suicide, Bael condemned himself to live as a soul on earth, in this prison system, of hell, as I said.

This proves what I am saying, that for Urd it does not matter what happens around, what he does, what Rígr does. He can actually live in Hell. His only wish is for his brother to be by his side.

Because Rígr represents his stability, his family, his security. That is how far Urd's devotion to Rígr goes. That is how he is as a person, as a soul.

This is the reason why I do not find it forced, or strange, that Urd chose to welcome Rígr back, or follow his plan. Because, again, what upset him was his brother's departure. If the brother returns and his desire is to have the brother by his side, is it not natural to welcome him back?

I am sure Urd was waiting for Rígr and that he would have accepted him back anytime. He just wants to have his brother by his side.

Furthermore, Urd knows well, very well why Rígr left. It is not an unrealistic or selfish reason in the middle. Yes, it is about Sika's abandonment, Rígr's trauma of being abandoned. But more than that, Rígr become aware of some objectively true aspects of their world. Sika's abandonment lets him see these realities.

That all is just an illusion.

More importantly, the world Sika gave them to protect is a broken one.

Look here, as Rígr says that he and Urd were forced to vow that they will guard the world. An already rotten, broken, cursed world.

That is why Rígr says that the world has already been destroyed enough.

And his whole plan of a thousand years is not just his attempt to be recognized by Sika, but actually a fight to protect this broken world against Sika.

Why am I saying this?

Because if Rígr did not leave and create the Hyakuya Sect, the world would be totally destroyed right now. The apocalypse was happening anyway for Sika's plan, for Mikaela's resurrection. All humans were dying, all vampires were dying for it. Everything was ending.

But Rígr fought back against this world-destroying trajectory.

Guren, Mahiru, Shinoa, Yuichiro, including Ferid, are all results of his plan to fight back against the total destruction that Sika wanted to bring upon the world.

And if you ask me, I am sure it was traumatic for Rígr, who was only a young man (actually in the novel it is said he is around 19-20 physically) to be subjected, forced to protect a world already destroyed.

Especially since Rígr sees reality very well, its lack of meaning. He is an idealist. And his way of loving is to try to create a good world for his loved ones.

Exactly what he is currently doing.

Exactly what he is saying here, that everything is an attempt to protect the world.

In fact, to make a better world for his loved ones.

Here comes the contrast between Urd and Rígr.

Urd is the type of person who shows his love by actually being around his loved ones, even if the world around them is hell. And Rígr is the one who gives his all to create a better world for his loved ones, an ideal world with meaning, to save them from that Hell.

To me, no perspective is better than the other. The way they both feel is valid.

That is why I consider it natural the way their reconciliation took place.

Basically, Urd is glad to have his brother by his side. He understands what his brother wants to do, he respects Rígr.

" You needn't do it alone.

We'll protect world order together. "

And Rígr finally has someone to share the burden of changing the world for the better.

Now, if I am still analyzing, I would also mention the similarity between Rígr and Ferid.

They are both idealists, who see the meaningless reality of the broken world they live in, and give everything to change it. Not related to your question. But I think that is one reason why they got attached to each other, because they have the same way of thinking and feeling. And perhaps one of the reasons why Urd seems to reject Ferid. For he reminds him of his brother's mentality that led to their separation.

I could elaborate a lot on this, but I will stop here. Maybe I will write an analysis about the similarities between Rígr and Ferid, if anyone is interested.

Back to our analysis now…

As I said, Urd was furious about his brother's leaving. All he ever wanted was for Rígr to be by his side no matter what they did. He knows why Rígr left, that he wants to create a "better world" including for him. He knows that this is his brother, that this is Rígr's nature.

Furthermore, Rígr's forgiveness from Urd in chapter 114, comes after Rígr held Sika accountable for the mess he brought to everyone. This is just confirmation that Rígr is fighting for Urd, for vampires, for normality, in fact, that he cares.

For this reason, I think the Urd's forgiveness of Rígr is quite natural.

His brother whose presence he always wanted is back and now he can help him with his useful plan to save what is left of the world, to give everyone an honorable, meaningful ending.

Perhaps Urd has waited a thousand years to be able to help his brother and now he has the opportunity to do so.

Now, I think there are some communication issues between the two. Both are very emotionally closed people.

Still, what is admirable from my perspective is the fact that they really know each other, they know what is in each other's soul, and I think that is precisely why the long time they were separated does not matter. Because they know what is in each other's heart and their brotherly love is genuine. One that transcends any distance of time, or external conflicts, and I think the author has shown this well about them.

That is for now. More can be discussed about their bond. I think the way everything was portrayed shows the essence of each of them well.

I am open to feedback. Elaborate, if you wish, on how you feel it would have been better for their emotions to be highlighted. It would be fascinating to read such an opinion.

And maybe what you are saying, though, has to do with the lack of inner monologues in the manga. This is a deliberate decision by the author. It is something that Kagami decided from the beginning not to offer and maybe that is why, especially in the case of emotionally closed characters (like the two wonderful brothers we are talking about ), a re-reading of the scenes and a deep analysis of the whole picture is necessary to understand the context well.

This is what I think.

Thank you again for your trust. I feel like I wrote chaotically again, but I hope my answer was at least a little helpful!

Thanks for reading and have a good day to whoever finds this post!

#urd geales #rigr stafford #saito #ferid bathory #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #rigr stafford analysis #urd geales analysis

[infiniteholeending]

you know what infinite hole man (+ fungus) ive been thinking what is the nature of reality in the stanley parable?

the narrator is obviously telling a story but stanley doesnt need to follow it and the narrator knows this but the narrator also knows we exist and refers to us aswell. To better demostrate my point lets start with s hypothetical point in space we shall call "reality" this is the 100% acurate location of the stanley parable in space and time.

now then does this point exist in our world for the stanley parable cast ( hereby shortened to TSPC) and thus the narrator is just some random guy and stanley is like his friend and the whole thing is a dnd campaign?

does reality exist in the office? and everything outside of it is meta commentary or suddenly manifested? Thus we as the player exist outside of both space and time relative to TSPC?

Is the world Mariela is in reality and we the players and the narrator fake by proxy?/

is the narrator and us the players fourth dementional beings hell bent on making stanley dance like a demented puppet?

or am i over thinking a game where a disebodied voice yells at us for going into our funny little cages? (broom closet and infinite hole respectfully)

from your dear stanley parable fan/psychopathic obsessed weirdo

-The-Mask-Maker

i don't think it's possible to overthink tsp. there's just too much in it worth thinking about.

ramblings under the cut

so broadly my answer to this question is "yes, but actually no, but actually yes" in that i think the reality of the stanley parable from an in-universe standpoint is very nebulous and open to interpretation; it's very similar to things like stanley's actual personality or how true anything the narrator says is.

tackling your questions not quite in order but i think whatever the parable's relation to in-universe reality is would necessarily be shared by mariella, since she exists within the narrator's awareness (setting aside for the time being all potential questions this raises about beings who don't or don't seem to, like 432 or the curator); she is more "her own person", so to speak, than the mannequin wife or the adventure line, but all the same she is part of an ending, just like they are. however i do not think she is aware of this the way stanley is.

as for the player in relation to the reality of the stanley parable, i would be lying if i said this was a question easily answerable by canon but canon does have a lot of stuff to chew on vis a vis this question.

so for starters, the not stanley ending. the way the narrator reacts seems to imply that, despite the fact that he's aware he's in a video game, it never seemed to occur to him that stanley might be controlled by an actual player. many of the other endings prove he's less omniscient than he lets on but it seems kind of odd that a character who is very explicitly aware that he's in a video game wouldn't know this.

there's also the fact that the curator not only addresses the player directly but talks about both stanley and the narrator like they aren't there. we could maybe excuse the actual museum as just being a meta joke but she's unquestionably part of the story, and one that exists outside of the narrator's awareness (or appears to) at that. the theory went around back in the day that the narrator was himself a protagonist, and she narrated him as he narrated stanley. it's narrators all the way down. i don't personally subscribe to it but if we're talking about the nature of reality in the stanley parable it's worth noting.

then of course there's all the fun new wrinkles in tspud, namely the fact that the narrator is aware of every ounce of press the game gets and, in the expo, does seem to acknowledge the player and stanley as separate entities without having (more of) an existential crisis about it. and the biggest of these is 432, who also addresses the player directly, and outside the normal confines of the game to boot--they talk to you before you even get to the main menu. and they're one who canonically has a kind of tenuous relationship with the reality that is implied to exist outside the parable--i always sort of parse it as them "living in the walls of reality"--so this too is another interesting wrinkle in the whole "how real is the parable" thing

my personal take on the whole thing is that the player is a real person looking into a fiction that acknowledges itself as such (and in doing so can recognize the presence of a real person) but is implicitly contained in a fiction that, as most fictions do, thinks it's reality.

(although all this being said i still do think the "the whole thing is just a tabletop game and the narrator is a bit of a railroading dm" take holds water but more for personal reasons--as a dm myself i relate a lot to him in the confusion ending lmao)

#🧹🚪

[twinkle-art]

rumor mill/creation myth

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #basira hussain #melanie king #georgie barker #annabelle cane #tma #fanart #comic #yes i am aware this raises way more questions about my interpretation than it answers #you're gonna eat what i feed you #**

[crookswithbooks]

How To Seduce A Talking Cat

Day Ten - Bean helps Elfo come up with strategies on how to seduce their favorite demon and Elfo himself continues to be awkward and terrible at most everything.               

Waking up in a pool of sunlight was usually an enjoyable experience for the demon, but in the wintertime the reflections off the snow were enough that he was practically blinded when he first opened his eyes. Luci slowly uncurled from his position on the windowsill, stretching out his back. What he was not expecting was to be met with the waiting eyes of Elfo, head tilted slightly as he watched him.

Luci stifled a strangled yelp, quickly straightening out. “Okay dude, super creepy.”

“You know you look just like a cat when you sleep,” Elfo told him as the demon hopped off the windowsill. “I half expected you to start purring.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not a cat,” he grumbled, his tail curling in annoyance. “I’m a demon and I’d kill your parents for half a corn chip.”

“But you don’t like corn chips.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

Teasing Elfo was a gamble each time. Sometimes it was as easy as calling him short and sometimes the meaning of his words flew completely over the elf’s head. “You know Elfo, it’s amazing how you’re even less fun in the morning than all the other times of the day. It’s almost impressive in a way.”

“Thank you!”

Luci scampered out the door to go find some drunk scholb to torment, grumbling something about early mornings and annoying elves.

Elfo sighed, flopping back down on the bed. Bean was curled up on her side, having passed out soundly after last night’s shenanigans. Her hair formed a tangled mat around her head and she snored quietly. There had been moments when the sight of her would have set Elfo’s heart aflutter. It still sort of did. Now though, he found his attentions were held by another, more antagonistic force.

“Have you ever been in love?” Elfo asked her distractedly, watching the doorway where Luci’s form had been moments before.

“Mmm… love…” Bean’s murmurings were almost unintelligible, her barely conscious mind slurring her words. “Warm hands… why yes I will join you in your chambers tonight…”

“Like, genuine love,” Elfo continued, oblivious to the fact that Bean was clearly not listening. “Love where you would do anything just to get them to notice you?”

“Do anything…” Bean snorted, pulling her pillow in close so that she was practically straddling the material. “You can do whatever you want to me…”

“But the thing is, the person in question’s not good for you. Like, objectively speaking, just a terrible influence and not a good person to boot. Yet all the same you can’t help falling for their infuriating charms.”

“Boots…” Bean muttered, finding herself more and more awake with every second. “Am I wearing boots in bed?” She kicked them off, groaning as she sat up.

Elfo’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh my goodness. I’m in love with Luci.”

“What?”

Elfo slid off the bed, pressing his hands to the side of his head. “I can’t believe I never realized it before. I just assumed those fluttery feelings in my stomach were hatred, but then I realized they were the same feelings I used to get when I looked at you and I just—”

“Hold up a second,” Bean interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. This was not the kind of news you wanted sprung on you while dealing with a hangover. “You’re in love with Luci? Luci? The demon? My demon? In love?”

“I think so!” Elfo gnawed on his lip anxiously, not interpreting Bean’s distress. “I mean, now that I think about it, the signs are pretty obvious. I love hanging out with him, whenever he makes fun of me I get all hot and bothered, and sometimes when I look at him I find myself thinking he’s… cute? Like, these aren’t friend feelings, are they?”

“How long have you been in love with Luci?” Bean exclaimed, lost and bewildered at the turn the conversation was taking. “How did I miss this? And why Luci? And why you?”

“I don’t know, a couple months now,” Elfo said in answer to her first question. “At least I think so. It’s hard to pin down. I mean, I’ve always sort of felt this way, if I really track it back, but it’s only recently that I started to be fully aware of it.”

“Am I losing my touch?” Bean gasped. “My best friends were in love and I never realized. I can’t believe it.” She grabbed Elfo’s arm, momentarily pulling him out of his funk and forcing him to look at her. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Elfo shrugged uncomfortably, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… I was thinking I would just pine endlessly now that I know how I feel and prolong the inevitable rejection.”

“No, no, no!” It was possibly due to the seven beers she had drunk last night, but Bean found herself weirdly invested in this newfound realization of Elfo’s. She had always found it difficult to navigate her own love life so focusing on someone else’s was a welcome distraction. “You have to tell him.”

Elfo snorted, a derisive noise that shot down any possibility of acceptance. “Please. There is no way that he feels the same way. Luci’s a demon. I’m… well, me. It wouldn’t work.”

Bean folded her legs under her, gripping her hands in concentration. “There’s got to be something…” She racked her brain, digging through her hangover for ideas. After a couple minutes of her doing this and Elfo waiting unimpressed, her eyes shot open with excitement. “I got it! Mistletoe!”

“What?” Elfo frowned. “You want me to grow mistletoe?”

“No stupid.” She stood up, pacing back and forth. “You find a way to get both you and Luci under the mistletoe at the same time, and then once you’ve kissed him you can confess your undying love for him. It’ll be perfect. It always works in those books Derek is constantly reading. I only know because sometimes I use the pages to smoke drugs and accidentally catch glimpses of the words.”

“I don’t know…” Elfo said skeptically. “Who’s to say Luci will even follow the rules of mistletoe? He doesn’t seem like the rule-following type.”

Bean waved a hand, dismissing the idea before it could even take form. “He will.”

“How do you know?”

Bean didn’t answer and Elfo reluctantly followed her as she continued to go through several ideas for their plan.

A day later, Elfo sat at the table in the grand hall with a glass of beer and a stomach full of nerves. Operation Luci-Under-The-Mistletoe was ago, or LUTM as Bean has so affectionately named it. Above him was a mistletoe tied to the rafters. The beer had been Bean’s suggestion, the idea being that Luci would be unable to resist the alcohol and would be forced to sit next to him.

He had been waiting there for nearly fifteen minutes before Luci finally wandered back into the castle. He slipped in through the crack in the doorway, eyes widening as he caught sight of Elfo nervously gripping a glass of shoddy beer. “Oh. Elfo. Hey.”

“Luci!” Elfo exclaimed a bit too loudly. Now that he had named his feelings he found it harder to be around the demon without being awkward. Luci raised an eyebrow and he flushed. “Hey there... bud… how’s your day been?”

“Great. Set two children on fire in front of their parents.” Luci crawled onto the bench, far enough away that he wasn’t technically under the mistletoe. “They screamed for a long time. A couple of times the fire went out and I had to re-light it which was troublesome, but such is the sacrifices I make for art.”

“Geez,” Elfo muttered, queasy just at the thought of it. Of all the people he had to fall for, it had to be a demon. “That sounds… terrible.”

“It was,” Luci agreed dreamily.

“Hey,” Elfo said casually, twisting the bottle on the table in what he hoped was an inconspicuous motion. “I was just getting ready to down a couple of cold ones if you wanted to maybe join me?” He threw in the maybe despite himself, nerves getting the best of him.

Luci examined the cracked bottle containing clearly not cold beer. “Yeah… so, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually good. I was getting ready to go get baked and yell at people in the streets, though, if you wanted to come with me?”

“Sure,” Elfo agreed miserably, setting the bottle back down a little too hard on the table. Plan #1 was a bust, which meant it was back to the drawing board for him.

 A couple days later and Elfo sat loosely tied to the throne with a mistletoe hung directly above him, waiting for Luci to come back from breakfast. The plan now was that Luci would try to help him out and as soon as he was close enough Elfo would slip the knots and kiss him. Elfo was skeptical about the plan as it required Luci wanting to help anyone, but Bean was confident in this one so he went with it. He twisted against the chair, the hard wood digging into his back uncomfortably.

Luci’s amusement when he finally found him was unending and Elfo almost wanted to die right then and there, mistletoe be damned.

“Wow,” Luci whistled appreciatively, circling him. “Just wow. Who did you say did this to you again?”

“The kids from the village,” Elfo muttered under his breath, repeating the words Bean had instructed him to say. It was all the more embarrassing due to the plausibility of the situation. “Could you possibly help me out of here?”

“And you’re really stuck?” Luci clarified, just standing there and, more importantly, not helping him. “Like, you can’t get out at all?”

“No,” Elfo assured him in what he hoped was a convincing lie.

Luci examined him for a moment longer, clearly deciding the truth of the statement. Finally he shrugged, walking towards the still open door.

“W-Wait!” Elfo cried out in a panic, wanting to rush after him but not wanting to give away the fact that he wasn’t really stuck. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to help me?”

“It seems like you’re really stuck in there,” Luci said over his shoulder, strolling out the doorway. “Why would I ruin such a perfect oppurtunity?”

Seconds later he was gone and Elfo slumped against the rope, defeated yet again.

 His third try was a last-ditch attempt and one that he wasn’t proud of by any definition of the word. Tied to the front of his hat was a sprig of mistletoe, making it impossible for anyone to get close to him without being in range of the plant. It was obvious and mortifying if anyone saw him—which, if Bean’s plan was to work, they would have to. Specifically Luci.

Luci took one look at him and burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement. Elfo blushed furiously, bristling at the reaction. “Oh my god, Elfo, man, this is just so desperate. What lady is ever going to want to kiss you with that on your head?”

Elfo didn’t even bother to come up with a response, ripping the hat off and throwing it to the ground. He stormed off, Luci’s laughter echoing down the halls after him.

 Eventually, Elfo was forced to resign himself to the facts. Luci didn’t want to kiss him; that much was obvious. And no amount of tricks, clever ploys, or traditional plants were going to change that. The sooner he allowed himself to accept that, the sooner he could get over the stinging phase of rejection.

He sat curled up in the windowsill of Bean’s room, the place where this whole stupid charade had begun. His knees were pulled up to his chest and in one hand he held a piece of mistletoe, glaring at it with as much hatred as he could muster.

“Stupid plant,” he muttered angrily, crushing it between his fingers. “Stupid Bean, stupid Luci, stupid feelings—”

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

He jumped at the sound of Luci’s voice. He shoved the mistletoe behind him quickly; there was no way he would be able to deal with the embarrassment of Luci catching him holding it.

“No,” he protested, wishing for once that Luci would just go away. As always, Luci ignored his wishes and hopped up on the windowsill opposite him, examining him curiously. “Why are you here? Don’t you have more important things to be doing?”

“Not really. I just finished poisoning the local drinking water, so my schedule’s clear for the next couple hours.” Luci watched him for a moment before his tail snapped out suddenly and snatched the mistletoe from behind Elfo’s back. Elfo gasped, shooting out a hand to retrieve it but it was already too late. Luci smiled, holding up the mistletoe in both their line of sight. “Thinking of kissing someone, huh?”

“I…” Elfo struggled to come up with a convincing story, but between all the plans he and Bean had come up with lately, not to mention his inherently guilty conscious, he found himself all out of lies. “I was, yeah. But they don’t want to kiss me back.”

“How do you know that? Did they tell you?”

“No,” Elfo admitted. “But they don’t have to. They’re super cool and mysterious and I’m… you know.”

“Elfo?”

“Exactly.”

His head drooped in misery. A couple seconds later, however, he felt a soft hand grip his chin and tilt it upwards. He found Luci standing next to him, the mistletoe held squarely over them by his tail. Elfo gaped at the sight, glancing between it and Luci’s face. “But—I thought—”

“I knew what you were trying to do,” Luci admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve known since the beginning. I just thought I shouldn’t give the win to you that easy. And I have to say, it was fun messing with you. Sorry about that. by the way. Bad habits, demon and all that.”

“So then you…” Elfo struggled to deal with the information he was being handed. “You knew that I liked you and you weren’t disgusted?”

“Of course not,” Luci snorted. “Do you know how many things I’ve been with on this planet? You’re hardly the most revolting thing.”

“Thanks,” Elfo said dryly.

“You know what I mean.”

“So you, too…?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Luci snapped, and if Elfo didn’t know better he could have sworn he spotted a faint blush on the demon’s cheeks. He wiggled the mistletoe then, a mischievous look entering his eyes. “Now, I believe I owe you something?”

Kissing Luci was never something Elfo would imagine in even his wildest of dreams, but life, as he quickly found out, was full of surprises. Normally, Elfo was not that fond of surprises, but in this case he decided to make an exception.

#disenchantment #elfo #luci #bean #elfo x luci #twelve days of ficmas #fanfiction

[veryvincible]

Hey! 👋🏼 I was looking at Tonys panel with Carol and his AA panels. It got me thinking how can a person like Tony .. who is an atheist, a believer of science and a confident engineer rely on AA which has a religious foundation (the 12 steps) and place so power on God. I know secular AA have different takes on it and encourage a personal definition of God as any higher power the person may choose. But doesn’t that defeat Tonys belief? Because I don’t think he believes in a higher power regardless if it’s a deity or not.

This is a wonderful question. There’s a lot of nuance to the answer, in my opinion, because I think there are some things called into question here that Tony (very realistically) treats with a lot of complexity.

Firstly, Tony’s atheism is kind of... I don’t want to say it’s up in the air, because at this point, I think it’s kind of made its place in canon and fanon both. But, most likely as a result of the times in which he was created, he has been shown in canon (at least in the early stages of his life) to follow some sort of organized religion. This is from Iron Man Vol. 1 #164, and it’s... not strong evidence for him being a spiritual man, as most people who call themselves “not that religious” tend to be religious by way of traditions, but. You know. It is what it is.

Of course, we could dismiss this as yet another thing that early canon imposed on a character who wouldn’t be like that at this point in time, but I think it brings up interesting beats in the way Tony’s character has progressed over the years.

Considering him as someone who may have been raised as traditionally religious makes sense in the context of defining events, as well, given that we watch him pray the Lord’s prayer in #14 of Iron Man Vol. 4, one of his Civil War tie-ins.

Given the proximity to the alcohol (and the point he’s at in the timeline, here), one could also easily assume that even if he had no religious background, the very presence of the Lord’s prayer in AA meetings could have formed a connection in his head between this “worship” and sobriety-- at the very least, enough of one that the prayer strengthens the effectiveness of his willpower. It seems the little push he needs to pour a drink down the drain is borderline Pavlovian.

There’s actually a lot of religious imagery in Tony comics in general. He’s a man with a suit facing conundrums of cosmic proportions. It’s difficult for him to keep rationale exclusively within the range of earthly probabilities.

Point is, his atheism doesn’t come from his disbelief in a higher power. It’s quite the contrary, actually. His atheism comes from a belief that there’s no single entity that could claim the title of God, that any being willing to try has, just by being, already forfeited the title.

Which is a fair assessment to make, given that he’s fought many people claiming to be Gods, and they’ve all bled. He’s also watched people worship Gods that turned out to not... really be Gods, whether they were otherworldly beings, his buddy Thor, or, uh, himself. The idea of him, at least. In space.

Because of course that happened.

But Tony actually does have a higher power to give himself up to in these meetings. In Civil War II #1, he very explicitly states it:

“I respect the future. I believe in the future. I worship at its feet.”

“The Future” to him is something he can affect, certainly, but he’s aware of just how massive it is, just how massive all of time is compared to the few decades he’ll spend on earth. This is his higher power, his cosmic deity of choice.

It can’t bleed. It can’t falter. It’s inevitable.

And this mindset is... pretty in line with everything else he’s done. He’s referred to himself as a “necessary monster.” He’s implied many times over that he thinks he’s rotten and potentially dangerous, but he’s also intelligent and capable and he wants to do the right thing, even if he doesn’t always know what that is. 

If you’ve ever been in a religious environment, you’ll probably recognize his mindset going into any problem: there’s always a solution, always information he’s missing, always a “right choice” he’s looking for with a domino effect that’ll be as favorable as possible for future generations. He trusts in the future the way people trust in God, with an awareness that he’ll never have all the pieces to make sense of everything, but he can have enough information to act. And he must act, or else his worth, his right to be alive, even, is at stake.

So, needless to say, he’s not praying to a mainstream God. But religious imagery isn’t and has never been off-putting to him, and though he certainly could seek out unreligious (is that a word?) alternatives to AA, I find it hard to believe that he would, given just how influential his higher power of choice is as it guides him through life. He puts everything at stake for it, going so far as to make choices that will destroy not only himself, but also his relationships with his loved ones if it means he’s doing what he perceives to be the right thing.

Secondly, even if he were a man who had no belief in any form of higher power, not even a stand-in for it, AA still might not be something he’d discard in favor of an alternative.

Religion serves as a guide. Most often, it has “do”s and “do not”s, certain beliefs it supports, and a kind of... basic explanation of what human life is and how it should be treated. One of the more common threads among most religions that I’m aware of (I am not an expert in religious studies; please don’t @ me) is the idea that human life is generally sacred, and as such, people should treat each other with respect. Yes, some texts can contradict this, but the general rule is “be nice to each other!” when you really look at the basics of what people are trying to teach. At its core, religion is linked to what we as humans already tend to for the sake of survival: compassion.

As such, though we might not always identify with religion as a concept, it’s not difficult to identify with some religious morals and teachings. Some people take to certain teachings better than others-- it’s super case-by-case-- but if you’re stuck in a religious environment listening to some preaching or anything, there’s probably going to be something you can relate to, and some way you can morph and adopt the message. This isn’t, like, all-encompassing, by the way. Of course there are some things that atheists and religious folk will never be able to relate to within each other, but.

You get what I mean.

I’m an atheist myself. I spent a chunk of my schooling at a religious institution. At best, there were messages that affected me deeply (as they were hard-hitting even when I stripped them of the God-worshipping aspects). At worst, I had to grit my teeth through some assignments, though I felt mostly indifferent (if slightly resentful at times, more out of frustration with the closed-mindedness of the administration than with the concept of religion itself). My experience isn’t universal, of course-- some people in my shoes were more frustrated and angry than I was, and I can see why. But my point is, being an atheist in and of itself (even one as strict as Tony) doesn’t render religious imagery useless.

For example, if you happen to pass by a pastor preaching about struggles with guilt, you might not identify with the sentiment of “Give your worries to God and know He’ll take care of you.” However, you could identify with the sentiment of, “Those little things, those side effects of decisions you’ve made? They’re here. Those decisions have been made. You’re allowed to swallow past the reality of what it is that’s passed and move on. You’re allowed to let go of it, so long as you’re better today than you were yesterday.”

It’s especially easy to do this if you’re listening to or being exposed to content from a religion you’re already familiar with; in Tony’s case, if we assume he was a Christian at one point or was raised with Christian ideals (not unbelievable in the slightest, given his circumstances and upbringing), then he wouldn’t have to do a lot of heavy lifting in order to get to “core messages” of certain Christian teachings that he could still identify with. Couple that with the higher power mentioned before, and... it’s not hard to see what might be appealing to him about AA, and it’s not hard to see why it was so effective at sticking in his mind all the way through his darkest periods in life.

Now comes the less healthy part.

There’s also an aspect of self-flagellation to it that I feel Tony might identify with on a deeper level. We’ve seen him hate himself openly, and we know how he regards himself. Even if he managed to find himself in a courthouse-like environment where the religious undertones were more about judgment than recovery, I don’t know that that would necessarily... push him away? He’s already told himself there’s something rotting and evil at his core many times over. He’s already committed himself to a lifestyle of atonement and progress, punishing himself when he fails to accomplish things no human reasonably could and barely praising himself when he doesn’t fail. Do I think these kinds of meetings would be totally sustainable for him, given that he clearly needs to feel pride or relief on some level for conquering his demons? No, not really, but. I don’t think he’d abandon them straight away.

Besides, every healing environment he’s been shown in has been more on the welcoming, open side, even if we only get to see a bare bones interpretation of AA (with deeper exploration happening more with Tony’s response to it, or his and Carol’s responses to each other) in canon. He’s in a good place with it, and it’s very nice to see.

Tl;dr: Again, great question. At the end of the day, I think the combination of self-loathing, his desire for progress, and his conceptualization of “the future” as his higher power makes AA a good fit for him despite his lack of a belief in "God” as an entity.

#cassks #religion #alcohol tw #the day has come where my quasi-religious background has become useful #if there are parts of this that are illegible... that is my bad #i have. a killer headache right now #and i hurt all over #but thank you for the ask it was very nice

[somethinginthewayiam]

Press tour confessions Part 1

Pairing: Henry x reader

Warnings: none, a little fluff, angst

Words: 1914

Summary: You’re part of the cast of Mission Impossible Fallout and joined your costars on the press tour in Japan. A question of an interviewer gets out a confession of you that Henry can’t seem to let go...

A/N: after seeing videos of the MI Fallout press tour in Japan, I came up with a little something. Wanted to do just a little paragraph, but I can’t keep things short, even if my live depended on it. Hope you like it!

You were part of the Mission Impossible Fallout cast and joined Tom, Simon, Henry, Vanessa and Rebecca on the press tour in Japan.

They paired you with Simon, Tom and Henry for the second part of the day when you got to play some games for a Japanese game show.

The game up next was feeling a mystery object inside a box. Everybody else could see but you. The three men had solved their boxes with ease and composure but you were always a little easy to squeal.

When it was your turn, you expected the worst. “Oh no, Y/N, you’re not gonna like this”, came from Simon somewhere close by. You had actually closed your eyes as you started to reach your hand inside the box. After hearing Simons words, you immediately pulled your hand back.

“Stop it, Simon!”, you exclaimed, pressing the hand against your chest. You saw Henry next to you out of the corner of your eye. “Hold my hand, Henry”, you said and stuck your other hand out towards him. He took it with a chuckle.

You started to put your hand inside the box again, the Japanese woman on the other side of the box doing the same. “Come on, Y/N, you got this”, you heard Tom, always the encouraging friend he is.

With shaky fingers, your hand inches forward, your eyes closed again. You reached further and further until the tip of your index finger touched something cold. Without thinking, your finger pressed even further into the thing and you felt something liquid run over your finger.

You immediately pulled your hand back with a high squeal that would make every Japanese girl proud. You even jumped back a step, landing against Henry’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you, laughing. He, of course, already knew what it was.

“What the hell was that?”, you asked out of Henry’s arms. Simon and Tom laughing hysterically. Simon went over to the box, reached inside and pulled something brown out. “It’s just a wet sponge, Y/N. I had god damn soup!”, he cackled and put the sponge on top of the box. “Ewww, that’s gross. Come on, you guys”, you exclaimed into the room. Henry let go of you so he could press his own finger into the sponge to see how wet it was.

You heard the voice translating the Japanese into English in your ear and suddenly heard your name. “Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that”, you said and pointed at your ear.

One of the Japanese hosts turned to you and repeated what he said. A second later, you heard it in your earpiece. “Are you and Henry together? A couple?”

Your co-stars got the same translation over their earpieces and Henry’s head shot over to you as you two were still standing next to each other.

“Oh, uhm, no, we’re not together”, he cleared up. “No, no, he doesn’t want me”, you spoke almost at the same time Henry did.

“God knows I tried”, you added jokingly and made Simon and Tom laugh. Henry looked a bit irritated at you, but smiled for the cameras.

 When the taping for the game show was over, press was done for the day and you were on your way back to your hotel. The four of you, assistants and your PR people headed out of the room together and into the elevator. “What was that in there?”, Henry suddenly asked you. You two were standing at the back of the elevator. “What exactly? There were a lot of strange things happening in that room just now”, you remarked. “The part where you said, you tried, when they asked if we were together”, Henry reminded you.

“Oh, this is gonna be good”, you heard Simon as he turned around to face you. Tom was talking to his assistant. “Why? What about it?”, you asked him and felt a little uncomfortable. Was the elevator getting smaller?

“Why did you say that? There wasn’t anything going on between us when we were filming”, he reminded you. “I’m aware, believe me”, you told him and felt your cheeks blushing. “Dude, she was totally in love with you, everybody knew”, Simon stepped in. “Woah, hey, I wouldn’t say in love, alright?”, you put your hands up in defense towards Simon. “It was more like a crush”, you added towards Henry, barely able to look at him. He only looked back at you in total surprise.

“I thought you knew? Like Simon said, everybody knew”, you told Henry. “I clearly didn’t”, he replied. “Well, now you do”, Simon grinned. “Well, don’t worry about it. I knew I was bad at flirting”, you waved it off. “Not so bad that someone wouldn’t even notice, but bad enough”, you added mumbling but both, Simon and Henry, heard you.

“Hey, Tom, when I say to you, what was the one thing on set about Y/N everyone knew about, what am I talking about?”, Simon turned over to his friend. “That she had a crush on Henry”, Tom answered without skipping a beat. “He didn’t know”, Simon added and pointed behind him towards Henry. “Hey, even I knew and I had a broken ankle to worry about”, Tom laughed and turned back to his assistant.

“Could you please stop talking like we’re not here?”, Henry said over everybody’s head as he was the tallest in the little room.

“When is this elevator ride finally over? Good god!”, you exhaled loudly, staring at the ceiling of the metal box you were in. You had enough of it when you were the joke on set, you didn’t need seconds on that embarrassment.

The doors finally opened and you were able to get out and get some literal space between you and Henry. “We’re gonna talk about this”, Henry said before you parted ways as you rode in separate cars. Tom, Simon and Henry had another thing to go to, you would drive back to the hotel with Vanessa and Rebecca.

“But there is nothing to talk about. Henry!”, you called out as he already got into his car and left you standing there. You grunted in frustration before you got in your own car. “Do we want to know what just happened?”, Vanessa asked as you put your seatbelt on. “I’m sure Simon will be more than happy to tell you at dinner”, you pouted as the car started driving, referring to the cast dinner that night before the big premier tomorrow.

 You’d think that Henry would have forgotten all about it during his next appointment with Tom and Simon and that’s why it caught you by surprise when he knocked on your hotel room door a few hours later. You were in the middle of getting ready for dinner, when you heard the knocks and quickly put on the hotel robe before you opened the door.

“Henry? What’s up? Am I late for dinner?”, you asked with furrowed brows. “No, I wanted to talk about what happened today at that game show taping”, he reminded you. “Wow, you really can’t let this go, can you?”, you asked almost a bit annoyed. You were finally starting to get over him, although, doing the press tour with him got in the way of your plans of getting over your crush.

“Let’s go downstairs and get a drink at the bar”, he offered. “Henry, this conversation wouldn’t even last long enough for us to order”, you sighed. He looked at you with an indecisive expression on his face.

“Listen, Henry. I don’t really get what you want from me here? Yes, I had a crush on you, yes, I flirted with you and you obviously didn’t notice either. End of story”, you concluded. For the fact that you were talking so openly to your crush about your crush on him, you were weirdly calm.

“Can we not discuss this out here? May I come in, please?”, he asked. “Again, not knowing what’s here to discuss, but, yeah, come in”, you said with a shrug and stepped aside for Henry to enter your hotel room. You closed the door behind him and followed him into the little suite.

“Why is this riling you up so much, Henry? You must be used to people crushing on you all the time”, you told him. You walked over to the couch, standing behind the backrest, leaning against it with your hips. Henry stood across the room next to the tv.

“But you’re not just people”, he said and you had trouble, interpreting what that could mean. So, you decided to just let it slide.

“You didn’t know about it until a few hours ago and lived your life happily. And I moved on too. This happens to me constantly, believe me”, you told him, trying to ease the mood and somehow get him to back off.

“You moved on? Are you seeing someone?”, he asked. “Oh, what, me? No!”, you had to hold back a laugh as he wouldn’t understand how absurd that sounded to you. “No, I…just seem to have…let’s call it a pattern. I work with someone, I think he’s cute and I develop a crush. I flirt or at least try to and it never pans out. And in the end, I somehow get over it one way or another”, you told him. You didn’t know why you were so open with him all of a sudden.

You became friends while filming, but due to your crush, you always were a little inhibited around him.

“I’m sure you have a girlfriend back home”, you said to put the focus on him for a change. “Not really, no. I’m mean, I’m seeing someone, kind of”, he said to you. “Kind of?”, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, just a few dates, nothing serious. I don’t even know if I want to go any further”, he told you.

“But see? There you go. And although I probably don’t know her, I already know she’s better at getting your attention then I am”, you joked. Too soon?

“But you must be seeing someone, come on”, he said after a few moments of silence and it sounded like he was insisting on it. “No, I’m not”, you shook your head. “Come on, you can tell me”, he said like he wanted a confession from you. You almost told him that if you were seeing someone, you’d make sure that everyone knew that someone finally wanted you, but pushed that joke back down.

“I’m not! Really. I’m never seeing anybody”, you said and wished it was just a joke. “Why?”, he asked. “BECAUSE NO ONE SEES ME!”, you blurted out in frustration. You felt a lump forming in your throat and tears were burning in the corners of your eyes.

Henry looked at you a bit shocked. You slowly realized what you’d just said and how you’d said it and felt your cheeks burning.

“Alright, I think I have embarrassed myself enough for one day. Also, I have to get ready for dinner”, you told him, although you weren’t hungry anymore.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to offend you”, Henry apologized. “I don’t get offended that easily, Henry, so keep your apologies”, your voice was a mix of sadness and defeat. “I’ll see you downstairs”, you said and walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You assumed that Henry would find his way out.

A/N: Did you like it? Would you want to read more? I kinda think it has potential for a sequel, but I’m not sure... Let me know what you think!

UPDATE: I continued the story due to popular demand. You can find Part 2 here!

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fluff #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #press tour #press tour confessions #part 1

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, my thoughts on that last reblog, and the TYPE of protectiveness showcased on Bruce’s part.....and to be 100% clear, this is not meant as a call-out to the OP of that post whom I don’t know and have nothing against, its simply about the fact that this kind of view of Bruce and certain forms of his parenting are not at ALL uncommon in fandom, and I’m just kinda like hi, yeah, I have some issues I would like to raise here plz and thank you:

So the issue I have with so many headcanons that pair massive invasions of privacy and disregard for personal boundaries with the idea that this is Good Dad Bruce Wayne....is that no matter what one feels this says about Bruce’s concern for his children, it simultaneously also says or implies that for such extreme measures to be deemed good and not invasive, and as such NECESSARY.....then his children are not just headstrong....but UNREASONABLE.

Because families fight. The Batfam moreso than a lot, sure, but even still, I think anyone trying to pitch the existence of Good Dad Bruce Wayne is still ultimately trying to build a case for a Batfam who even when they fight, still love each other.

But with a family like that, no matter HOW much they fight....they’re still ultimately all going to understand and be ABLE to keep an awareness that even while FURIOUS with each other....this doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other’s well-being and want to know and be reassured that they’re alright.

And this is what’s not on display on the side of Bruce’s kids, anytime a fic or headcanon or meta defaults to justifying Bruce going to extreme lengths to look out for or even just check up on his kids....because intentionally or not, it paints his kids as total assholes if they’re not even willing to accommodate basic requests about checking in or being checked up on, so at least their dad who loves them knows that they’re alive and well.

Only if and when his kids just flat out stonewall and block any and all LEGITIMATE attempts by Bruce to check up on them, do his more invasive attempts at doing so become necessary and thus ‘justified’ to any degree whatsoever....

With the biggest issue here being that so many fics and headcanons just hop, skip and jump straight over and past any attempt at Bruce giving his kids the OPPORTUNITY to meet him halfway and at least check in or reassure him they’re safe despite being pissed for other reasons....

And go straight to Bruce keeping them under surveillance in manners that wouldn’t be out of place with the CIA’s protocols for watching enemies of the state or what-the-fuck-ever.

And all the while, treating it as though its just a GIVEN that Bruce HAS to resort to such measures....because just....calling them on the fucking phone isn’t going to get him anywhere.

Like yeah, if you want to write a story where he tries that and they block him at every turn, and so Bruce ‘has’ to resort to less than stellar measures to gain any peace of mind, go ahead. Just don’t be surprised if when you write it all out in such a manner, showing each step of the way rather than just skipping straight to the endpoint there as though its a foregone conclusion, you run into people commenting with judgmental opinions of the kids and what assholes they’re being, that Bruce feels he has to go to such lengths at all.

Because I think the reason we so rarely see people ‘showing their work’ here and just jumping straight to Bruce asking forgiveness rather than permission (while umm, usually still not ever asking forgiveness which is sorta kinda still a necessary ingredient of that axiom but I fuckin’ digress).....is because I think deep down most people know that it isn’t really in character for all of the Batkids to just refuse any and all legitimate attempts at checking up on them purely out of spite, just being all “well I’m mad at you so I want you to SUFFER, OLD MAN, yeah, go ahead and wonder if I’m dead or not! Suck it!”

Like, even Jason or Dick at their ‘pettiest’ - I think most people would agree that its more that they’re characterized as WANTING to hear Bruce express actual concern for them....and only getting as pissed as they do because Bruce just flat out refuses to do so and defaults to taking measures that don’t treat them as having any kind of competence, maturity or autonomy of their own....and thus are virtually indistinguishable from actions taken purely out of a desire to control everything around him, rather than a father just being concerned for his kids. 

Even when they’re at their most spiteful in regards to not wanting Bruce to know what’s going on with them, its born of an undercurrent of hurt, I maintain, as they’re really mostly just pissed off that there’s even a question of whether Bruce actually cares or Bruce is just being controlling. Because kids shouldn’t HAVE to read between the lines and interpret surveillance tactics as parental concern just to even FEEL like their dad gives a damn, because their dad just flat out refuses to come out and SAY it.

Like, that’s not a big ask, at all, and thus its not something any of the kids are at all unreasonable in wanting and yes, even expecting from their father. Which makes it really obnoxious and one-sided when they’re implicitly painted as being unreasonable for wanting this, because a narrative or headcanon has just zoomed past “calling them on the phone and asking them how their day was like a normal person” as if it was never even an option for Bruce in the first place. Like it was just a given that he had to go full Operation: Periscope In the Plumbing to scout out their current state of health. And there was no sense in wasting time with like, an in person drop-in visit to say hey, haven’t seen you in awhile and I miss you and just want to make sure you’re doing alright and don’t need anything.

(Ever notice how many fics treat it as a given that Bruce always makes the kids come to him and this is normal and reasonable and fine, for him to never venture forth from his manor in search of them.....except in rare cases where its often almost framed as though a visit from Bruce is codenamed “I Can’t Believe I’m Having To Resort To Coming To Your Place Because You Won’t Just Come To Mine Like A Good Son Would?” Just saying).

But yeah.....the problem is never, and has never been, Bruce caring about his kids and being concerned and willing to go to any length to make sure they’re okay or be reassured of this.

The problem is when its implicitly treated as though Bruce launching operation SPY ON MY KIDS LIKE A GOOD DAD DOES as his step one is like, more reasonable and understandable and just BETTER...as opposed to......just being like “Alexa, call my kids” first instead.

Like....no. That is backwards. That is not Good-Dadding. That is Creeper-Dadding. Bruce’s kids are one hundred thousand million bajillion times valid for being like WOW COULD YOU JUST NOT in response to this, because aside from the whole issue of how “is this totalitarianism or just good parenting” should not be something that’s actually in question and needs distinguishing, like.....there is a very real, very understandable (and for some of us) very relatable element of “I am also feeling all the hurt and resentment that you’d rather bug my apartment or hack my phone than just fucking TALK TO ME LIKE A HUMAN BEING and treat me like you place a modicum of trust and respect on any answers I give from my place of Being an Adult Who Is Actually More Than A Little Bit Competent and Responsible, Not That You’ve Noticed Apparently.

Also, a good exercise here would be like, before deciding on a course of action for Bruce in regards to one of his kids, first imagining another character you aren’t as predisposed towards, like, deciding on that exact same course of action in regards to that exact same kid.

For an example, look at the time Tim left Gotham in Red Robin and wasn’t speaking to Dick, and how Dick still very much was concerned about him and wanted to check up on him.

Look at how even just Dick asking Tim’s friends like Steph and Cassie to check in on him for Dick was characterized by a lot of people.

Now imagine if Dick had been like “well, Tim’s not speaking to me no matter how much I try to apologize to him, but I’m still really worried and concerned about his safety and well-being, and also I am his big brother and I know what’s best for him....so I am going to bug his phone and ask Raven to spy on him magically and also maybe ask Superman to occasionally lurk in the bushes outside his hotel room and peep in on him and report back on his breathing patterns like a creeper BUT ONLY BECAUSE I TOTALLY CARE AND THUS NONE OF THIS IS UNREASONABLE.”

Like......hmm. Does that fly with most people? Would that go over at all well, or do you think that maybe Tim might have pitched the mother of all unholy temper tantrums upon hearing that Dick had done any of this let alone all of this....AND BEEN COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED IN PITCHING SAID FIT ABOUT DICK’S CHOICES HERE?

Would this be at all defensible on Dick’s side of things, even with it being 100% true and even taken for granted that he only did this because he genuinely loves his brother and was genuinely worried about how he was doing and hell, even IF it was genuinely a given that Tim was not going to give him the time of day no matter how he went about asking Tim to just check back in occasionally to let Dick know he was still alive and alright?

Or would it - even in light of all that - still be seen and construed as invasive, infantilizing and disrespectful of Tim’s rights to privacy and self-determination, not to mention his capabilities in looking out for himself?

Now......swap a few characters in and out of the key slots here.

Imagine Bruce in Dick’s place here, enacting any or all of the above or even actions slightly less hyperbolic but no less intrusive or boundary-crossing.

Would any of those actions be any LESS invasive, infantilizing or disrespectful of Tim’s rights to privacy and self-determination, as well as his capabilities....just because Bruce is his father and not his brother?

See what I mean?

Its never at all an issue that Bruce loves his kids and is concerned about their safety, nor is it actually untrue that his kids aren’t stubborn and headstrong.

The only actual issue is when its framed as though all of this means that Bruce skipping to “launch drones from Batcave” before he even TRIES “hit speed-dial on phone”....

Is both valid and necessary, and thus a sign of a Good Dad....rather than just Bruce’s own fears of being rejected or turned away by his kids. Or an example of his own flaws with interpersonal communication rather than evidence of his kids being completely unreasonable little assholes with a lifelong commitment to Suck It Dad, Yes Even IF You’re Legitimately Worried I Might Be Dead Right Now.

Et cetera, et cetera.

[mallowstep]

You mentioned that in your Seer Au sometimes the wrong kit is chosen. When it is figured out they aren't supposed to be a seer how does that discussion play out? "You aren't good enough? Starclan doesn't want you?" Or would they be relieved they don't have to leave? On that note, has there ever been a warrior apprentice that was found out to be the real seer kit later on? Being told you can't fight or have kits after all would be rough.

hello anon!

i can't remember where but i know i talked about this, or something similar before, and that's somewhere in the stolag tag.

but to answer your question:

first, if the wrong kit is chosen, it's usually noticed because they are extremely unhappy with the seer position because of their aptitude. to use some examples, compare cinderpaw and, let's say, a hypothetical seer brightpaw.

cinderpaw is unhappy as a seer, at first, but it's not about her ability/training. she's fine with memorizing herbs, treating patients, etc., she just doesn't want to leave her kin behind.

there's great satisfaction in being a seer for her, once she gets there.

because of this, it usually doesn't feel like a punishment. while seers have a lot of power, they also have to give up a lot, and they're not, like, better than your average warrior?

their life might be more valuable because there's only, like, eight in all the clans (out of 100 to 200-ish cats, i'm not sure, i have no concept of numbers), but all are equals in the eyes of starclan.

second, an already-apprenticed-warrior will never be chosen to be a seer. while i don't necessarily agree with everything here, warriors redux treats seers similarly (although ironically, they weren't my inspiration for this au, they're just a major influence on my worldbuilding as a whole), and you can check out the summary to get an idea.

basically, the logic is once a cat has started battle training, they're no longer "pure."

now, because it seems i have a psychological need to ramble about something people didn't ask me about every time i get an ask, i want to take a moment to discuss the difference between beliefs and reality, i.e., what does starclan think about all this?

in warriors, it is generally taken for granted that what the cats believe about starclan is true.

this is because in canon, it is.

for stolag's intents and purposes, the difference doesn't matter. the cats believe it, ipso facto, it is true. but i am a curious person who finds that dissatisfying.

things that could be considered spoilers for "in a faith-forgotten land" (mothwing's piece) below

i bring up spoilers because, to an extent, mothwing's fic is going to grapple with this, and while i don't plan on directly spoiling anything, if you'd like to wait to watch mothpaw grapple with all this, i'll still be here, waiting.

so anyway, let's, for a moment, pretend that starclan has no bearing on this. they can't affect anything. no omens, no dreams, no nada.

cats believe seers have to be raised from a young age with this expectation, otherwise it's too hard a transition

there's no actual way to choose who's going to be a good seer by their personality at birth. you can make an educated guess, but nothing more.

religion, in some sense, exists to explain the unexplainable.

being able to tell an apprentice seer their fate was laid out by the stars is hypothetically soothing, making it a good thing to say, since they may not actually be a good fit.

but by that token, if they're clearly never going to be a good fit, well, the stars certainly didn't make a mistake.

so therefore, the stars must send omens, which a seer must interpret.

which feeds into the system we have.

but missing a kit means the stars didn't send an omen

and they don't make mistakes

so that can never happen

so even without any input from starclan, we necessarily arrive at this conclusion.

we can see this cycle of patterning functional behavior for religious reasons in the entire concept of stolag:

sending year-old cats away from their birth clan means they have a strong tie there, but can still reintegrate

this means they're likely to advocate for peace with their home clan

so each clan has one to two clans they're unlikely to attack, and to have a rivalry, both clans need to be willing to attack each other

so sending seers away keeps the peace

now, you might be thinking, "but matthew! we know the cats are aware of this as a purpose. it's right there in the series description!"

to which i say, yes, but that's only because the cats are aware of the functional/religious patterning in this instance.

"No." Yellowstorm paused, indicating to Spottedpaw she should stop. "It is a scary thing, Spottedpaw, but remember you are leaving because you are ready. You will find your place — your true place — in RiverClan."

"I thought seers weren't supposed to have a place."

"We're not," Yellowstorm said. "But that doesn't mean we don't."

grieving for the living

so like, they're aware of it. buuuut in spottedleaf's piece, we get the following

"I wish I could stay longer," Spottedpaw said. "But Yellowstorm is right, even if I don't like it. It's time for me to go."

"How do you know?" Willowpaw asked.

The question startled Spottedpaw. Her sister had never taken interest in her training before.

"I just know," she said. "Like, uh..." She fished for an example from Redpaw or Willowpaw's training.

"Like how, when you catch something, you just know how to take the killing bite," she said. "I don't know how or why, but I know that I need to move on."

where the spirit meets the bones

so there's an implication here that it is a real change they experience, which suggests they do have a fundamentally different connection to the stars.

what's my point? my point is that belief is a powerful thing. i can't say terribly much more without really drifting hard into stuff i'm saving for "in a faith-forgotten land," but this is the kind of thing i think about.

spoilers over

also, as a bonus, while i use "stars" over "starclan" in general because i think it sounds better, i also specifically chose to avoid starclan in stolag as much as possible because i think it implies a very active role, and that's...definitely in doubt.

both yellowstorm and spottedleaf have two major omens/prophecies, and they're both speaking from their heart, after witnessing events.

the only omen cinderpelt gets that's shown is the pack, pack, kill, kill omen. why does she get it? well, for some backrooms information, she gets it to set up for tigerstar and her connection with the dogs.

but even still, she could have a bad feeling, a hunch, perhaps because tigerclaw is acting suspiciously, and that would guide her.

so anyway, this was more than you asked for, but i hope it answered your question?

#ask #anon #mine #talk #fic meta #au meta #stolag #essay #long

[not-majestic-bluenicorn]

Crescent || Chapter 7

Fandom(s): ATEEZ

AU: Treasure Hunters

Genre: Action, Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Relationship: Everyone x Everyone, Established Hongjoong x Yunho

Language: English

Status: Ongoing

Chapter WC: 4,345 words

Warnings: Character Death, Stabbing, Fighting, Blood, Aliens, War, Funerals, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Mentions of Child Abuse / Child Work, Explosions, Murder Attempt, Robbery, Homeless/Runaway Character, more will be added.

Chapter Warnings: Homeless/Runaway Character

Summary:

"I'm going to ask you one question, and depending on your answer, I'll decide what to do with you, alright?" Hongjoong asked him, lowering his voice so it felt a little more private.

"Alright," Yeosang nodded. His thoughts were going a mile a minute, but he focused on the question.

"Why are you doing this?" Everyone had already asked him that question countless times since he had been captured, even Wooyoung, but this time, Yeosang decided to be honest.

"I want to get out of this planet."

AO3

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Tagged: @angel0taiyo​

Hongjoong's dream was similar to the Yeosang's dreams that Wooyoung had visited. He was once again in a ship, sailing through space. Everyone on board was wearing the uniform of the Kim Empire's military, so Wooyoung knew he was in a royal vessel and this was probably one of Hongjoong's memories rather than a full dream.

He walked around the deck, carefully looking at all the faces to see if he could identify the Captain of The Crescent, but when Wooyoung found him, Hongjoong didn't look like what he had expected. He looked younger, probably no older than fifteen, and was sitting with an older man that Wooyoung barely remembered from a previous dream. If he was right, that was Taejoong, Hongjoong's eldest brother that had passed away in battle.

It made him a little uncomfortable that Hongjoong looked so young, but he had no time to lose. He approached Hongjoong and touched his shoulder. Hongjoong immediately reacted by drawing his sword and pointing it at him, and Wooyoung yelped. The rest of the dream vanished around them, and Hongjoong looked older again, like how he had looked when Wooyoung had first encountered him in dreams. 

"Who are you?" Hongjoong asked. His stance was tense and his eyes promised to slice him in half if Wooyoung wasn't careful. Fortunately for him, they were in a dream, and as far as he knew, he couldn’t actually hurt him.

"Jung Wooyoung," He answered, looking at the point of the sword and then at Hongjoong. "And you are Kim Hongjoong right?"

"How do you know my name?" Hongjoong pressed forward, making Wooyoung step back. Despite knowing it was a dream, the sword looked very much real and he was still afraid of getting hurt.

"I know a lot of things about you that you probably don't want others to know, like how you're the third in the succession line of the Kim Empire-" Wooyoung didn't get to keep talking as the sword pressed against his neck, making him stumble on his words. It felt terrifyingly real, was he wrong about his assumptions?

"How do you know that?" Hongjoong enunciated each world carefully, and Wooyoung worried that maybe dreams didn't work as he thought they did, because he felt pretty much like he could die at any moment.

"Because we're in a dream!" Wooyoung exclaimed, raising both hands in defeat and praying Hongjoong wouldn't actually try to slice his head. 

"What?" Hongjoong looked taken aback for a moment, and Wooyoung used the opportunity to grab the sword by the blade, carefully. It turned into smoke in their hands, vanishing into the nothing.

"See? We are in a dream, none of this is real, and I can't hurt you." Wooyoung clarified, realizing how this could actually put Hongjoong more on edge.

"How?" Hongjoong looked at him with a mix of distrust and curiosity.

"Let's just say I am... sort of a message from the Universe?" Wooyoung shrugged, doubting the omen joke would work on him.

"So you are not a product of my dreams?" Hongjoong seemed to relax a little, which was ironic, because Wooyoung thought he should be afraid about someone being able to invade his dreams.

"No, I am a real person, and I am here because I need to ask you for a favor." Wooyoung went straight to the point.

"A favor?" Hongjoong's eyes widened slightly. "How could you need a favor from me? I don't know you."

"But you know Kang Yeosang," Wooyoung pursed his lips, hoping that the mention would at least keep Hongjoong's attention on him.

"How...?" Hongjoong's eyes widened even more, and he was starting to look comical.

"I feel like you're going to ask me that question a lot..." Wooyoung pouted, crossed his arms. He didn't want to tell Hongjoong what he was as much as he didn't want to tell anyone else. His people had been hunted for since they began existing, wanted for their ability to become predictors of the future. "I was in his dreams just now, and he told me you're going to hand him over to the guards."

"This is a lot to process..." Hongjoong mumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. 

Wooyoung felt a little bad, because he had given Yeosang a better chance to process things, but he was just dropping everything on Hongjoong and expecting him to understand. He was in a hurry, of course, but he still felt like Hongjoong deserved a better explanation than this. The best he could do now, though, was make him more comfortable. Wooyoung focused his mind and energy into manifesting a room around them, small and cozy, in hopes that it would help.

Hongjoong stared at him, both confused and marveled. It seemed like he had so many questions for Wooyoung, but he didn't quite know where to start and they didn't have the time for it either. Wooyoung guided him to sit down and then sat down in front of him. He took a deep breath and proceeded to try talking it out with Hongjoong again.

"That was really not a great start for us," Wooyoung sighed. "I promise I'll let you ask any questions you have, but I really need your help." Hongjoong seemed to consider it for a moment, but nodded afterwards.

"What do you need my help with?" Hongjoong asked finally.

"Please keep him from going to jail, it will mess up a lot of things if he does." Wooyoung explained. He knew it was a lot to ask for, but who else but the Captain would have the ability to stop something like that?

"He was trying to steal from my ship, though." Hongjoong pointed out, and Wooyoung exhaled loudly.

"I know! That was such a stupid move from him!" Wooyoung grumbled, remembering Yeosang's face when he had confessed to the crimes. "I don't agree with him stealing, but I really need you to help him."

"Are you two dating?" Hongjoong asked, a small smile making its way to his lips.

"What? No! No..." Wooyoung's face turned as he tried to deny it. They weren't dating... yet, because according to the Interpreter, they would, but that was something Wooyoung didn't want to think about yet. It scared him.

"Sure..." Hongjoong's smile widened, but decided not to press further.

"So... Will you do that for me?" Wooyoung asked again, looking at Hongjoong with hopeful eyes. It was kind of cute, and Hongjoong had to look away.

"You said if I don't it will mess up a lot of things..." Hongjoong said, still trying to get a little bit more information from him.

"It will... I- I can't explain you right now, it's not the right time, but I wasn't lying when I said I was sort of a message from the Universe, please believe me." Wooyoung grabbed his hands, squeezing them softly, looking at him with the best pleading eyes he could muster. Hongjoong blushed slightly and looked away.

"I will try my best, but Yunho is not going to like it..." Hongjoong muttered, remembering how Yunho had opposed him delaying Yeosang's arrest. He was glad he had done it now, though, because getting someone out of jail was far more difficult than not having them arrested.

"Yunho is your boyfriend, right?" Wooyoung asked, smiling brightly one his request had been accepted.

"Yes... How-" Hongjoong began the question but stopped once he noticed Wooyoung pouting at him. "Right, message from the Universe and dream traveler, you probably know far more than I want to be aware of..."

"I probably do..." Wooyoung nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. "Thank you so much, really, I promise I'll explain everything next time we see each other, if I'm not in a hurry again..."

"There will be a next time?" Hongjoong asked, opening his eyes wide. Wooyoung chuckled softly.

"Oh, you'd be surprised... There will be many next times," Wooyoung stood up. "Good night." And just like that, he was gone.

When Wooyoung woke up in his hotel room, he immediately ran to the bathroom to throw up. He hadn't realized how tiring it could be to visit dreams and control them as well, that was probably the reason Interpreters required so much training. He sighed deeply as soon as he was done and went to brush his teeth, mind wandering back to the two people he had visited before.

He honestly couldn't believe there was going to be a relationship happening, especially with how some of them had met. Yeosang trying to steal from the ship had probably put Yunho against him, because while Hongjoong was quick to forgive and help others, Yunho was much more reserved. Or, at the very least, that was what Wooyoung had been able to deduce from his dreams. 

What worried him the most, however, was not them getting along, not exactly. It was that he still wasn't sure what his full purpose was. The Interpreter had told him that they would face very difficult challenges in order to get the treasure, but so far nothing had been too bad. Was something worse waiting for them? Wooyoung was worried, but until he could get to them, he would have to be patient and hope they would be okay.

--

Hongjoong woke up with a bit of a headache. He could remember his dream almost perfectly but couldn't quite believe what had happened, and still, he didn't doubt Wooyoung had been real. He couldn't quite understand why Wooyoung had been so insistent about him rescuing Yeosang from being tried, but it had seemed so important for the other that he hadn't been able to refuse.

When he looked to the other side of the bed, he realized Yunho was no longer there, and he felt a little surprised that the other hadn't woken him up. A bad feeling filled his stomach and he quickly stood up. He dressed up and left his quarters in a rush, and just like he had feared, he saw San and Jongho holding Yeosang between them, while Yunho had a discussion with Hwanwoong.

"I'm telling you the Captain said 'not yet'." Yunho repeated himself.

"Why would he even say that? He's a criminal!" Hwanwoong replied.

The crew was tense, and Hongjoong noticed Jongho wince at the word 'criminal'. What had even happened while he had been asleep? Hongjoong stepped forward and claimed the attention of the rest with a loud whistle.

"What is happening here?!" He yelled. He noticed the way those around him stood up straight, and huffed.

"I was on my way to deliver the burglar to the authorities, Captain." Hwanwoong explained, eyes fixed to the front. He was acting too much like a soldier for Hongjoong's taste, but he could discuss that with him later. "First Mate Yunho stopped me and said you'd decided not to hand him over yet."

"And then why are you handing him over?" Hongjoong asked, slightly exasperated. "I did tell Yunho we weren't handing him over just yet." Yeosang looked up at him at that moment, surprised.

"But-" Hwanwoong tried to rebut, but a simple glare from Hongjoong was enough to stop him. "Understood, Captain." Hongjoong felt a little bad, they were cousins, and he knew Hwanwoong had the best intentions, but he could sometimes go overboard.

"That does not mean I'm forgiving you that easily, though." Hongjoong continued, this time looking at Yeosang.

He approached him. San and Jongho were still holding onto his arms, the first looking calm as he waited for orders but the second one looking tense as he looked back and forth between Hongjoong and Yeosang. Pretty much all of the crew was staring at them, unable to fully understand the strange exchange that was going on in front of them.

"I'm going to ask you one question, and depending on your answer, I'll decide what to do with you, alright?" Hongjoong asked him, lowering his voice so it felt a little more private.

"Alright," Yeosang nodded. He couldn't believe Wooyoung had really visited Hongjoong's dreams and convinced him to help him. His thoughts were going a mile a minute, but he focused on the question.

"Why are you doing this?" Hongjoong asked. Everyone had already asked him that question countless times since he had been captured, even Wooyoung, but this time, Yeosang decided to be honest.

"I want to get out of this planet," Yeosang said. His voice was firm, despite the fact that inside he was feeling worried and anxious. "I'm saving to buy myself a ticket out of this place." 

"And why do you want to get out of here so badly that you're willing to commit a crime?" Hongjoong pressed further, wanting to break down the story to its smallest parts. He wanted to trust Wooyoung, but to do so he had to trust Yeosang, and he couldn't do it unless he understood his intentions fully.

"You say it like I killed someone," Yeosang mumbled. It hurt a little, even if they were strangers, that they looked down on him like that. "You must not be from here, but this place only gets worse day by day; it's almost impossible to get a job or even study." 

"So you want to get out of here to get a job?" Honjoong raised an eyebrow. The emotion in Yeosang's voice told him that was not it.

"I want to get out of this place to get a better life for myself, and to be able to afford the help my mother needs!" Yeosang yelled, exasperated. San held him tighter when he felt him move towards Hongjoong, and Yeosang complained. He had wanted to keep it to himself, ashamed of what his life had turned out to be, but Hongjoong wasn't letting him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he wasn't about to cry in front of his captors. "Maybe find my father, I don't know. This place is fucked up, what do you want me to tell you? How can I make you believe me?"

"I believe you." Hongjoong replied instantly, making everyone turn around to look at him in surprise. "I'm sorry." He added right after.

With a nod of his head, Jongho and San let go of Yeosang's arms, and Jongho untied him. Yeosang stretched his arms as he looked at Hongjoong in disbelief. Did he really believe him? Was this some sort of trap? Apparently he wasn't the only one feeling confused like that, because everyone was staring at their captain with a mix of disbelief and surprise. 

"Why are you apologizing?" Yeosang asked. That had been what had taken him aback the most.

"For pressing you to say those things in front of everyone," Hongjoong shrugged. He looked apologetic and uncomfortable. "We all have things we want to keep from others."

Yeosang almost wanted to laugh, what kind of person was this? Hongjoong had looked so intimidating the day before when the others had told him about the intruder, but now he looked kind and his presence was small and simple. He couldn't help but feel even more curious about the identity of the captain of the ship, who looked nothing like what Yeosang expected him to look like, having the money to own such a vessel.

"What now? D-Do I just get to leave?" Yeosang asked, earnest. He was still rubbing the burns on his wrists, product of the ropes San had tied before.

"What do you say if I get you out of this planet?" Hongjoong asked instead.

"What?" Yunho exclaimed immediately, approaching him. "Captain, this is not what we discussed before."

"I know, but I also never said I would limit myself to what I said before." Hongjoong gave Yunho a look and that was enough to shut him up and make him step back again. That was exactly what Yeosang had witnessed on their first meeting, so how could he go from that to looking at him with absolute kindness. "Do you know anything about space ships and navigation?"

"I know everything there is to know," Yeosang answered enthusiastically. "My father was an amazing sailor, the best in Tebos; he taught me everything I know."

"Alright then, what does everyone else think about taking him in?" Hongjoong asked.

"I don't think it's a good idea." Yunho muttered next to him, but Hongjoong only chuckled.

"That's what you say about most of my ideas," Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "Anyone else?"

"I think it's a good idea..." Mingi mumbled, raising his hand slightly. Hongjoong nodded, an indication that he could talk. "I spent the night watching him and we spoke a little, he is very nice." Mingi blushed as the attention fell on him, but Hongjoong smiled at him encouragingly. "He does know a lot about ships, he explained everything about this vessel to me, and I am part of the crew."

"I also think we should take him in." Jongho agreed, supporting Mingi's words. Other people voiced their agreement, and some just shrugged, like they didn't know what they wanted.

"I'm with Yunho on this one, but I also know there is no stopping you once you make a decision." Siyeon interrupted, sighing loudly. Hongjoong smiled at her sheepishly.

"What do you think San?" Hongjoong looked at San, surprising him slightly. He hadn't commented anything during the previous discussion, so he was surprised that Hongjoong had asked for his opinion specifically.

San looked at Yeosang for a second. He knew all too well what it was like to live on a planet that had barely anything to go on, he was a victim of this as well. He had also wanted to leave his own planet, and the only way for him had been to become what he was today, an assassin. San didn't particularly enjoy killing others, but he knew there were worse ways to make a living. 

Did he want Yeosang to go back to that? He didn't know him well, but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel at least a little sympathy. Of course, having more people on the ship would only make his own task even more difficult, but Yeosang wasn't at fault for his task. Besides, with how thin he was, he wasn't even a threat. It would probably make no difference.

"I think..." San hummed. "I think it's okay if he stays." He nodded, and Hongjoong smiled.

"Well then, in that case, whoever thinks we should have a new crew member, raise their hand." Hongjoong instructed as he raised his own hand.

A few crew members were quick to follow him, those who had been moved by listening to Yeosang's story. A few more joined after a moment of consideration, deciding that if their Captain trusted Yeosang, they would too. In the end, more than half of the crew had put up their hands, and Hongjoong told them to put them down.

"I think that settles it, then." Hongjoong put a hand on Yeosang's shoulder. "Welcome to The Crescent."

"Th-Thank you," Yeosang stuttered, still unable to believe that it was actually happening, that he was getting off of Tebos.

"You should go home and get all of your official documents if you'll be traveling with us, take Mingi with you." Hongjoong ordered. Mingi nodded and walked over to Yeosang, hugging him for half a second out of excitement. He had really come to like Yeosang during the time they spent on the hold talking, and he was glad they would get to work together now. "Siyeon, what is the state of the fuel situation?"

"They'll be coming to fill our tank in about half an hour, and then we can leave." Siyeon informed him.

"Excellent then, I'll leave that to you," Hongjoong smiled satisfied. "Let's get ready to set sail again!" He ordered, and the crew dispersed to go back to their respective works while Mingi and Yeosang went to pick up his things.

Yunho approached Hongjoong and pulled him along to his quarters. Hongjoong had already expected something like this, and let Yunho pull him along without resistance. He knew Yunho was probably a little mad that he hadn't followed his advice, but he knew something that Yunho didn't, and that was that, according to Wooyoung, Yeosang was supposed to be with them anyway. 

Something about Wooyoung had intrigued him, and Hongjoong wanted to trust him desperately, so he was willing to give Yeosang and opportunity. Plus, Yeosang had won himself a place in the ship with his words. Hongjoong wished he could have helped his mother back before she passed, so if he could help Yeosang with his mother, it almost felt like redemption.

"Why do you not listen to me?" Yunho asked him once they were in the privacy of their quarters, crossing his arms.

"I listen to you, I just don't follow everything you say." Hongjoong pointed out, but judging by Yunho's expression, that was the wrong thing to say. "Okay, then I have a question for you, why don't you trust me to make good decisions?" 

"I do trust you..." Yunho's expression fell, as did his arms. "I do trust you, you're smart and an amazing strategist, I know you have your reasons for every choice you make." Yunho ran his words, he was obviously frustrated. Hongjoong approached him and placed both hands on his cheeks, making him look at him.

"But?" He asked softly. Yunho sighed and relaxed on his hold.

"But I'm worried about you," Yunho started, holding Hongjoong's hands in his. "What if he is not what he says he is? What if your identity leaked out somehow and someone is trying to kill you? You know full well your family has dangerous opponents out there.”

"Yeah, that's a good reason to be worried, I agree." Hongjoong nodded. "But I have you." Hongjoong smiled. "I know I am safe when I am with you, because we keep each other's backs. We would never let anything happen to the other."

"Don't say that," Yunho pouted. "I feel even more responsible now, what if I can't protect you?" Hongjoong kissed his pout way, chuckling.

"I'm sorry, but don't think like that." Hongjoong caressed his cheeks softly. "We are also capable of protecting ourselves baby, remember? I am not your priority Yunho, I'm your equal, worry about yourself first."

"Fine..." Yunho nodded. "But I'll complain a lot about it." Hongjoong chuckled.

"You already do."

--

Yeosang guided Mingi through the town's alleyways towards his house. He had to be mindful of Mingi's legs while also keeping in mind that he should avoid being spotted by guards and angry townspeople. Captain Hongjoong may have decided to not press charges, but that didn't mean there weren't many others out to get him.

"Your town is pretty..." Mingi commented at some point while they were crossing a small bridge.

"You think so?" Yeosang stopped to look around. All he saw were dark buildings and decks, the canals taking up almost every street, and a blue sky that was barely visible through the roofs of the tall buildings.

"Yeah," Mingi nodded, stopping next to him and observing as well. "There is always so much dust where I come from. It's red and dry. I prefer it here." He shrugged, following Yeosang when he started up again.

"What did you do before coming here?" Yeosang asked him, curious about Mingi's past since he had already shared his own with everyone else.

"I was a miner in Merth X-24, that's why they hired me, since I have experience with explosives and all that." Mingi smiled, looking proud of himself.

"That's pretty cool!" Yeosang asked. He took a glance at Mingi's missing leg but decided not to ask. If Mingi wasn't going to share on his own, then he wouldn't press him about it.

"I also wanted to get out of my planet, see the rest of the Universe for a while..." Mingi added. "So I understand why you want to get out of here."

"Thank you, actually." Yeosang said. "For standing up for me back there, even though you barely know me."

"You seem like a nice person, so I don't see why you shouldn't join." Mingi smiled.

The rest of the little trip went on in silence. In just a few minutes, they were outside his home. Yeosang peaked in to see if his mother was home, but when he saw the place was clear, he invited Mingi inside and quickly went to his room to pack himself some clothes and pick all of his important documents. 

He felt like he should say goodbye to his mother, at the very least. But she was scared about confronting her and he also didn't know when she would be back, he couldn't be late to his first 'day of work'. Instead, he quickly scribbled a lengthy note to his mother and left it where she would see it. Then he grabbed his things and met with Mingi in his living room.

"Ready to go?" Mingi asked him with a soft smile.

"I've never been more ready to leave this place, let's go."

They walked for a while, at a slow pace so Mingi wouldn’t struggle to catch up. They were mostly silent, although Yeosang would tell him curiosities about his town here and there. He was grateful to Mingi for helping him back in the ship. Deep down, Yeosang hoped they could become friends.

"There he is!"

Someone yelled behind them. They stopped in their tracks and turned around, finding a good sized mob armed with a mix of guns and other makeshift weapons. Yeosang didn't even need to look at them closely to know those were all the people he had been stealing from, along with a couple of guards he had pissed off, and even other people living in the streets that he had crossed paths with at some point. He hadn’t thought he had that many enemies.

“Oh fuck…” Yeosang muttered.

Without giving it much thought, he grabbed Mingi's hand and began running.

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #8makes1teamnet #kpopscape #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction #atz #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #crescent #bluenicorn writes

[offbrandmercyplates]

Birthday fic from Yours the Author!

Ms. Emmibee: is me birthday day.

Me: *Tumbling down a flight of stairs, breaking a comical amount of theater vases that are made to be broken* HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

So yes! It’s Ms. Emmibee’s birthday, so we all know what that means! Presents and (cookie) cake! It’s not possible to send real cookie cake through the internet, though, but a present is a present!

I had actually planned this one out vaguely after the last update. It made sense that we wouldn’t get a lot of time in Temmie Village, since the plot must go on, but I figured most people would appreciate some cute Temmie and Emmibee action. I wrote this all out today. I don’t know if I quite captured the magic of Tem Village, but I like to think there’s a little bit of it here. I’ll let you decide for yourself. See you at the bottom!

What Could it Mean?

“Emmi, I kindly ask—and by ‘kindly’, I mean ‘in a way that won’t cause a scene’—that you stop vibrating so intensely.”

“But it’s Temmie Village, Dr. Gaster! I can’t not be excited!”

“The Temmies are excitable enough without you encouraging them. I’d rather not deal with any more hyperactivity than necessary.”

“Hyperactive or actively hyper?”

“…What?”

“What?”

“…Strange woman.”

“I know. But isn’t that why you like me?” “No more questions. Let’s just—”

“HOI!!!!” Dr. Gaster sighed for ten whole seconds as Emmibee gasped at her first in-person look at a Temmie. She bounced on the toes of her rubber rain boots as the little monster skipped over to them.

She was just as cute as she was in the game, but even smaller; probably no bigger than a munchkin cat. Her quadrupedal body was covered in short, soft white fur, two pairs of ears, a little mane of black hair, and a deep sky-blue shirt over the top half of her body.

Smiling giddily, Emmi pointed at her while grinning at the skeleton companion. “Undoubtedly, a Temmie.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dr. Gaster agreed. “Can we please—”

“HOI!!!” Another Temmie popped up.

“Behold, a Temmie,” Emmi bowed to the newcomer.

“I am aware. Can we—”

Another Temmie trotted over. “Could it be a Temmie?” Emmi wondered.

“Actually, I’m Bob. Nice to meet you,” Bob said. Emmi let out a high-pitched noise.

Dr. Gaster sighed again. “I’m going to the Tem Shop. Can I trust you won’t leave the village?” Emmi was currently chanting “hoi” with the growing group of Temmies. “…I suppose I can.” He made his way to the shop.

One of the Temmies suddenly wiggled her tail the way a cat does before it pounces and leapt up into Emmi’s arms. Emmi extended her arms to catch the Temmie, but a thought suddenly occurred to her: aren’t humans allergic to Temmies? The Temmie landed in her arms, and she instinctively adjusted herself for maximum comfort for the carrier and the carry-ee. Oh wait; I’m a monster now, she remembered. Does that still count? The Temmie she was holding vibrated gently in her arms, and the other Temmies and Bob crowded around her feet, looking a few seconds away from swarming her in a pile of cute. Guess it does.

As much as she would have loved to be swarmed in a pile of cute, Emmi didn’t know when she’d get a chance to explore Temmie Village like this again. Carefully wading through the tiny monsters, she began to look around the small cavern.

True to the game, the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of dark blue stone, but unlike the game, the air was cool and damp and seemed to somehow cast a shiny quality to the stone, if she looked at just the right angle and level of light. There wasn’t any quirky music playing in the background, but the air thrummed—no, vibrated—with an energy that could only be explained by the mysterious power of Temmie.

She took some time to say HOI to each Temmie she passed, admired the rich history of Tem and the statue of Tem, returned the compliments of an adamant Temmie (awawawa! bee lady… such a… cute!!!) and exchanged parenting tips with the parent of a special hardboiled egg (tem and bee… pROUD pARENTS!!!). Emmi considered saying hello to the owner of the Tem Shop, but one peek into the room revealed an irate Dr. Gaster trying to explain why he wouldn’t accept Tem flakes in exchange for all of the items he was selling. It would probably be best to leave him be.

That was when she spotted it: the dancing mushroom, swaying their arms to an invisible tune. Hugging the Temmie she was still holding tighter to her chest, she strode up to the mushroom, swaying her hips and bopping her head to the beat. She giggled and sang with them, “Mushroom dance, mushroom dance… what could it mean?”

The mushroom raised their cap to peer up at her, eyes narrow. “Failure is terrifying,” they said, “but not nearly as terrifying as success.”

The world suddenly stopped; not like a record scratch. It was more like if the planet had stopped spinning, but everyone wasn’t flung off into space. All of the cold and none of the water in the room seemed to cling to Emmi, getting under her raincoat, under her skin, coating her SOUL in an icy sheet. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision tunneled, and there was an intense feeling of being watched…

“Emmi?” The mushroom lowered their cap and went back to swaying. The Temmie in her arms hopped down, her face following a moment after. Emmi looked up to see Dr. Gaster putting something into the pocket of his lab coat and gesturing for her to follow him. “Time to go.”

Emmi’s legs felt a bit weird, like they had almost but not quite fallen asleep, and they were trying to remember how to work. The cold feeling lingered, though not as strongly as it had before Dr. Gaster brought her back to reality. She stumbled backwards, trying not to fall over as she stared at the mushroom again. They weren’t looking at her, preoccupied with their dance. The sudden shift in the mood had left her disoriented and a bit overwhelmed. What that mushroom said… it was way too on the nose for her liking. Had it not been for Dr. Gaster, she would have stood there for the rest of time as she tried to make sense of how that mushroom knew…

She would be grateful to the doctor for saving her from herself, even if he never found out.

“Coming…” she replied, taking one last look at the mushroom before steadily following Dr. Gaster out of Temmie Village.

***

It’s probably a good thing Emmibee didn’t go to the Temmie in the wall. She definitely didn’t need a double dose of the feeling of being watched. Poor Emmi. How did that mushroom know?

“Hyperactive or actively hyper” was a play on the joke “working hard or hardly working”. I was originally going to put a fourth wall breaking joke in that part of the story, but it occurred to me that Dr. Gaster wouldn’t let that go so easily.

Emmi identifying the Temmies (hey, that rhymed!) is a reference to the snow poffs of Snowdin. You all probably already know this, but interacting with every snow poff will tell you that, indeed, you are interacting with a snow poff.

Temmies have a rich history. What is that history? It’s rich. That’s all you need to know, and all you’ll ever find out, probably.

Emmi is going to be a parent sometime soon (skelebaby boys!), so it’d be a good idea to get parenting tips from an experienced parent, even if that parent’s child is a hardboiled egg. Every bit helps!

The scene with the mushroom is what really inspired me to write this. Visually, the shading in that penultimate panel was stunning. I wanted to translate what it looked like Emmibee was feeling into words. What did she see? What did she feel, physically and emotionally? These are questions I have to know the answers to as an author, and if they’re not written already, I’ll write down my own interpretations.

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EMMIBEE! One year older, bolder, and wiser! Despite everything, I hope this is a good one for you. I mean it. I’ll be posting this to FFN and AO3, if you’re okay with that. Looking forward to more of your content, be it a full comic page or a textpost gushing about a cute kitten gif. Until then! ~~~ AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH????? I really really loved doing this scene and you did it justice absolutely PERFECTLY. Emmi’s excitement about experiencing the Underground knows no bounds!! (Also, her dancing along with the mushroom is EXACTLY what I was imagining)

I’m really happy you enjoyed the page! It feels kind of filler-y to me, but it really is important to both the narrative and tone of the story. More pages will be coming soon I promise!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES

Feel free to post this on your FF and AO3 accounts! 

THANK YOU AGAIN AAAAAAAAAAAA

#OBMPfanfic #Yours the Author #another lovely fic from the Author #what a treat!!! #i do like cookie cake thank you VERY much i will take all of it #this fic really does capture this scene almost closer to how i imagined it than the comic itself #well done! #submission

[wittywallflower]

Merry Pranksters - Miles wants to play a practical joke on Julian while the doctor is off the station and asks Garak, of all people, for help.

(3,6k words, Miles & Garak gen fic)

Garak was just about to close up for the day when Miles O'Brien appeared quite unexpectedly. He was an infrequent visitor in the shop. The chief tended to leave sartorial considerations to his wife when he could get away with it. Outside of his holosuite costumes, that is, and in those cases he usually discussed things thoroughly with the doctor before letting Julian make the actual arrangements with the tailor.

"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him as pleasantly as any customer. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"

"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.

"Was there something you need?”

"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" Miles asked.

-------------------------------------------------------

Garak was just about to close up for the day when Miles O'Brien appeared quite unexpectedly. He was an infrequent visitor in the shop. The chief tended to leave sartorial considerations to his wife when he could get away with it. Outside of his holosuite costumes, that is, and in those cases he usually discussed things thoroughly with the doctor before letting Julian make arrangements with the tailor.

"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him pleasantly. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"

"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.

"Was there something you need? Don't tell me young Miss Molly had another growth spurt again so soon? That would be most inconvenient to Mrs. O'Brien. I believe she said they would be on Bajor this month? There aren't many clothing shops in the mountains of Ray'laht."

Miles was surprised, and not sure how he felt about the Cardassian talking so familiarly, and knowledgeably, about his family like that. But of course Garak would know a bit about it. Keiko liked the man, naturally would she would chat with him whenever Molly's pants were getting too short again and she had need of his services. Keiko was a nice, engaging woman and most people liked talking to her. Miles wouldn't have guessed Garak would care enough to listen, but then the man was or used to be a spy. He probably filed away any bit of intel, no matter how innocuous, just in case it came in handy later.

"Not that I am aware of yet," Miles answered, and huffed a laugh. "Won't be long though, the way she's growing."

Now that he thought of it, though, he could remember Julian mentioning that Cardassians were real big on family and loved children. Both apparently being big themes in the books Julian read and discussed with Garak. Julian, bless him, didn't try to get Miles to read any of it, limiting himself to the very broadest strokes of the stories when recounting his weekly lunches with the tailor. And Molly was adorable enough to win hearts wherever she went. It was possible that Garak not only knew but had a genuine friendly interest (as well as a professional one) in not just Molly's measurements but things like her favorite colors and what she liked to do for play. Some of the stain-resistant fabrics Garak had tracked down were a godsend, given how much the girl loved to paint.

Miles might not spend more time with Garak than he had to, but that didn't mean the man was entirely removed from his life. Even if Julian wasn't friends with the man, he would still be there on the station. In his tailor shop, discussing orchids with Keiko and making a mental note that young Miss Molly O'Brien detested knitted sweaters and broke out all over in itchy hives no matter how soft the wool.

Garak looked at the human and tried not to grin widely at the man's reticence, knowing the chief would only interpret it poorly. Garak simply enjoyed drawing information out of people otherwise reluctant to give it away. That's what had made him so good at procuring information for the Order. An honest zeal for the work.

"I stand at the ready when she does," Garak said with his blandest salesman smile. Which was really the only one the chief was likely to trust. "I was just about to close up for the night, if there's no assistance I can offer...."

He trailed off, eyes widened expectantly. Obviously the human had a reason to come here. O'Brien more than most was no fan of Cardassian company. With any other potential customers Garak would have set up an appointment for the following day. But if the chief was here for a fitting it wouldn't take long and Garak suspected O'Brien would be just as happy to have to over and done with quickly.

Miles didn't immediately answer and Garak began to turn away before the chief spoke up.

"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" Garak's tone and expression were a little too politely confused by half.

"You know, a practical joke."

O'Brien didn't believe for one second that the savvy ex-spy had lived among humans for so long without learning about pranks. In fact, he was damn sure a species as naturally devious as Cardassians was already intimately familiar with the concept, so he didn't elaborate.

"Julian's back from his conference tomorrow," he said instead, "Thought we could arrange a little 'surprise' for him."

"We? As in you and I?"

"Sure! Pranks are more fun with an accomplice," Miles said with a slight smile, and squinted speculatively at him. "And you seem like you might know a thing or two about being a co-conspirator."

Garak didn't insult the chief with his usual protestations that he was just a plain and simple tailor who couldn't possibly conspire against a soul, except perhaps his fractious supplier of Orellian brocade. In truth, the oft-repeated denial of his former career was getting a little tired. One should endeavor not to repeat the same lie too many times. And he was quite sure no one else found it as amusing as Julian did.

"Why me?" he asked. The two men did not have a habit of spending time in each other's company.

"Why not you?"

Miles tried not to get annoyed by the interrogation. He knew it was only annoying because he didn't want to explain himself. He had made the decision to try to be more friendly towards Garak, to reach out and include him in some shenanigans. It was his own fault if that gave the fellow a chance to get under his skin.

And it was a fair question after all, given the usually chilly civility between them.

"Dax and I have pranked Julian a dozen times already," Miles said. "Who else am I going to ask? Sisko? He's my commanding officer. Worf's barely got a sense of humor. And Odo is the station's head of security."

"You expect to engage in acts of dubious legality then?" Garak raised his brow ridges as if scandalized, but there was definitely a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"I expect Odo would find breaking into Julian's quarters a bit dubious, yes." Miles nodded.

Hmm, interesting. Garak was already intrigued by the novelty of the situation. The chief inviting Garak of all people into his fun. There was a 'why' to be discovered there and Garak did enjoy a mystery. But even if there were any reason to suspect the chief's motives might be nefarious, the chance to snoop around the doctor's quarters a bit would still be impossible to resist.

"Actually Quark is pretty good at schemes," Miles continued on through the list, "but there's no latinum in this for him so he wont bother himself. And the Major... well, she's had a hard life. A real rough time growing up. I'm not sure she would see the point in this sort of... silliness. And it occurs to me now that might be true for you too." Miles finished awkwardly. "I mean, I understand if you aren't interested."

Miles, with the natural intuition of a man of similar age who had seen his fair share of trouble, had guessed that Garak had been through a lot in his life. Even if he didn't have any idea what exactly. Garak didn't worry about anything Julian might have told Miles about the former spy's life simply because Garak hadn't told Julian much of anything that could be confirmed as truth. Station gossip surprisingly didn't have much to say about him beyond the painfully unimaginative: that he was still a spy, loyal to Cardassia, in service of the Obsidian Order, here to steal highly classified information and disrupt Federation efforts. Largely negative, but not so bad as to stop the gruff human engineer from sympathizing where he thought they might have common ground of being victims of trauma. Garak could almost feel a sort of... camaraderie with him for it.

"Why Chief, are you implying that I'm no fun?" Garak pivoted, a playful smile served with the joke. Easing their mutual discomfort at the near brush with emotional honesty, and signaling his acceptance of the scheme.

Miles barked an honest laugh at that and grinned back, relieved and, yes, a little amused by the Cardassian.

"I'll get what we need while you close up shop. Meet me at my quarters and we'll walk over to Julian's together."

When he received a nod of acquiescence, Miles left, cheerfully whistling on his way down the Promenade.

Garak was quite sure O'Brien knew he was just as capable of breaking into crew quarters as the engineer. But the former spy lurking around on a habitat level not his own would definitely draw some suspicion from station security. He did have a history of going where he wasn't authorized to be when the situation called for it and a door lock had never stopped that. In the chief's company his presence was less likely to be questioned, but Garak knew how to handle any potential run-ins with Odo regardless.

"Hey," O'Brien greeted him when Garak arrived at the chief's quarters with a parcel under his arm. "What's that?"

"My excuse for being on this level this time of night." Garak handed the package to Miles. "For Miss Molly. They'll be a little big yet, but that hardly matters with pajamas."

"What, did you sew these in the 10 minutes since I left you?" Miles asked with mild astonishment.

"I already had the pattern cut and fabric pinned," Garak said with a dismissive wave. "they were just waiting for the updated inseam measurement. It hardly took a moment to run my handheld seamer over it all."

Huh. Prepared for anything, this one, Miles thought as he accepted the parcel with a nod of thanks and set it down next to two Starfleet issue canvas duffle bags. One of which he hefted, the other he handed to Garak.

"Shall we?"

They made short work of the walk to the doctor's quarters and even shorter work of bypassing Julian's lock code to let themselves in.

Garak crossed to a table where he could set down the bag he held. Next to a pair of data padds that he made sure to 'accidentally' bump so as to activate their screens, which he then just happened to glance at long enough to make note of their contents. All of which would have gone unnoticed even if the room had been crowded with people. Garak was very discreet.

"What's the plan, Mister O'Brien?" He asked, opening the bag to pull out its contents. Which he stared at thoughtfully a moment before he gave up guessing and turned to ask an explanation. "With all these...pieces of paper?"

The bag was crammed full with short stacks of small slips of paper in various neon hues.

"They're called Post-Its, or sticky notes back home. Not exactly a novel concept, I've seen similar things around the galaxy. They mostly fell out of fashion on Earth in the 21st century when people started carrying electronic devices everywhere. You write notes on them: reminders, messages, shopping lists. They have adhesive on the back so you can stick them wherever you need and they come in bright colors so you can't miss seeing them."

"So we're going to... write notes to the doctor on these little squares?" Garak ask skeptically. That didn't seem terribly amusing but then, it would matter a great deal what exactly was written.

"No." Miles eyes suddenly gleamed with a light that bore ill tidings for Julian Bashir. "We are going to stick every single one of these little squares to every single surface we can reach until the whole room is covered with them." As Garak caught on and began to smile, Miles smiled back. "Though, now you mention it.... it could be funny to write stuff on 'em."

"Not all of them surely?" Garak asked.

O'Brien eyed his own bag crammed full of as many Post-Its as he could replicate. His hand cramped at just the idea of all that writing and he made a face.

"Because" Garak hastened to suggest, no more enamored with the thought of that task than the chief, "I really think it would be more amusing to write only on a select few of them. Say, give each word of a sentence its own square and scatter the message around the room. This would force him to examine every last one if he wants to be sure he's found all them."

"Garak, that's brilliant!" Miles grinned. Okay, maybe now he could see how Julian found Garak's devious mind enjoyable instead of just worrisome. "He won't be able to resist finding the clues so he cant just sweep everything into the recycler, he'll have to leave it all up and stare at it until he solves the puzzle."

Miles chortled, pulling out a cube of sticky notes and handing it to Garak.

"You think up a message, I'll try to find you a pen."

"No need, Chief." Garak pulled an elegant looking pen from a discreet pocket in his trousers.

"You just carry a fountain pen around with you?" Miles asked.

Plenty of people still enjoyed the tactile feeling of writing, Jake Sisko to name one, but who actually carried such an old-fashioned writing implement? Most everything on the station could be handled through a computer or padd. And even a standard ink stylus would work more reliably than a fussy fountain pen. They never leaked and stained your uniform, for one.

"A tailor is always prepared for anything," Garak said with a smirk, unknowingly echoing Miles' earlier thought.

Miles shook his head but he was still smiling as he turned away to start covering Julian's chair.

They were both accustomed to working with brisk efficiency so it didn't take as long as either expected to work their way around the room in opposite directions, covering everything in a kaleidoscope of neon paper. Still, it would have bordered on tedious if Miles hadn't broken the silence with a few stories of past pranks. Garak warmed up to the subject as he came to find the other man could be delightfully inventive in his mischief. The prank they were currently engaged in, while diverting, was not particularly impressive by Garak's estimation. The chief agreed.

"This is a pretty amateur effort, if I'm honest," Miles said over his shoulder as he lined the doorway to Julian's bedroom with bright blue squares. "But it was all spur of the moment. I didn't have the time to plan anything more elaborate before tomorrow. Besides, Keiko would have words for me if she came home to find i blew a bunch of latinum to play a joke on Julian. This only cost me replicator credits."

Garak could understand the pressure of a deadline, and a budget. Sometimes an uncomplicated plan was best when one was in a pinch.

"I think the doctor will be amused, regardless of the simplicity," he offered as reassurance to Miles. "And if he happens to return exhausted from his travels, it will be a kindness for him that it's not something a great deal more involved."

Garak was thinking of one of the stories Miles had just shared about locking a particularly annoying Enterprise crewmate in the holodeck for several hours to play out an especially embarrassing scenario.

Miles for his part was thinking how interesting it was for Garak to be so considerate of Julian's comfort like that. The doctor was known for his abundance (some might say excess) of energy; all bounce-and-go. He wasn't exactly the type you'd ever think of as being in need of a nap. Fretting that someone would have a proper chance to rest after a long trip... that spoke of a certain level of caring, in his experience. What level exactly Miles wasn't ready to hazard a guess at. He couldn't read the Cardassian in the best of times, let alone when they were both at work with their backs to each other.

Huh. Willingly turning his back on a Cardassian, a known operative of the Obsidian Order, alone and in close quarters with no witnesses. Miles could honestly say he didn't trust the man. If Quark had a pool going, O'Brien would lay a bet that Garak had at least 2 weapons hidden on his person at any time. But he somehow knew Garak's deceit did not extend to doing violence in this sort of innocuous situation.

Their final task was to cover the shelving along one wall, full of Bashir's books and belongings. They worked their way up from the floor, with some discussion as to how to wrap oddly-shaped knick-knacks, until they reached the top shelf. And its lumpy, rather disreputable looking occupant.

O'Brien eyed it dubiously.

"I don't think Julian will thank us for messing with Kukalaka. The adhesive on these things is pretty weak but still... that bear is half dust, held together by nostalgia and stubbornness. I don't want to try sticking anything to that threadbare fur."

Garak regarded the teddy bear, largely ignored on his previous visit (intrusion) in the doctor's quarters. The chief was obviously well familiar with the toy and what it meant to Julian. Miles didn't offer further information but Garak could read between the lines and tell it important. Very important indeed. Sudden inspiration suppressed the burning curiosity he knew wouldn't be satisfied in the moment anyway.

"I think we can include... Kukalaka, is it? in on the fun without harming him," Garak smiled at the chief.

While O'Brien finished the rest of the shelf, Garak grabbed a cube of notes and began layering them until he had a large multi-colored sheet. Very carefully (the chief was right, the adhesive barely stuck to anything) he began to fold his creation. Spare minutes later Kukalaka was the proud possessor of a very dapper, day-glo hat. All sticky edges safely folded and tucked away.

"Huh, I didn't know you could do origami." O'Brien remarked as he took in Garak's handiwork.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term."

"Oh, its an art form from Earth's Japanese culture. Folding paper to create shapes, usually animals and flowers and the like."

"And hats?"

"And hats." Miles chuckled. "I'm not too bad at it myself. Keiko taught me, thinking with all the fiddly engineering work I do my fingers would be good at it. She was right, like she usually is."

"I would imagine several society with advanced paper industries have developed similar arts," Garak said, always interesting in cross-comparing cultures. "I'll have to ask Mrs. O'Brien to tell me more about this origami sometime."

"You should," Miles' smile was... actually genuinely friendly. It was not a sight Garak was used to seeing. "She'd enjoy talking to you about it."

They both looked around for a long moment, feeling satisfaction at the visible results of their efforts. Nearly every surface was decked in bright colors. They didn't have enough supplies to completely cover the walls so they settled for framing the doorways and viewport, and covering all the wall art. An armchair was a violent neon purple, the low table before it a yellow that hurt Garak's eyes to look at directly. The replicator in the wall was ringed in concentric stripes and Julian's desk was covered in no less than 5 different eye-searing shades.

"I wish I could see his face when he walks in," Miles chortled, almost boyish in his glee.

"I can send you the feed from my hidden surveillance devices," Garak offered with a straight face and level tone.

Any other day that line, delivered with that sort of aplomb, would have left O'Brien with a suspicious, questioning glare. Such a thing was by no means beyond Garak's capabilities or outside his morals, they both knew that. But, despite himself, the unique experience of spending this time with the chief did not lend itself to Garal projecting his usual aura of danger cloaked in affability. The engineer looked him over and he could practically see Garak radiating with a energy of what he could only describe of as.... fun.

So Miles didn't bother to take the joke seriously. Even if it was true and Garak did have illegal surveillance equipment set up, the chief would never actually get confirmation or proof of it so it didn't bear worrying about right now. If, later, Miles decided it was a credible threat he would mention it to Julian.

"C'mon," Miles said, almost going as far as giving the man a good-natured slap on the back but definitely smart enough not to push his luck. "I'll buy us a round at Quark's in the name of a job well done."

"I don't think we've ever had a drink together, Chief," Garak couldn't help but point out, because it was in his nature to stir the pot, to provoke a reaction just to see what he would get.

Miles shrugged that off, knowing it was true enough. But the whole night had been unprecedented anyway, and he for one had worked up a thirst.

"You can relieve Quark of some of that overstock of kanar he's always complaining about taking up space in his store room. The more you drink, the less I have to listen to him whinge about it," the human said.

Garak accepted that, and the offer of a drink; oddly more comfortable for it to be a matter of selfishness on O'Brien's part rather than an honest gesture of kindness from an acquaintance. What sort of life left a man unable to trust motives that weren't entirely devious and self-serving? Miles shook the thought off as they headed for the Promenade and the bar. He was much too tired to go digging around in anyone's psyche right now, much less the enigma of a man beside him.

#yes this is silly but whatever #I just wanted them to be friends #their respective skillsets would make them super talented at hijinks #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 fic #star trek ds9 #miles o'brien #elim garak #deep space nine #ds9 #star trek fic

[truthasgodsays]

What's Going On In The World?

GEORGE L. FAULL

Antony Flew, world’s most respected atheist has changed his mind.  He is now an admitted deist (one who believes God created the world and went off and left it to run on its own with no revelation of His will to His creatures.).  The thing that convinced him was the design of DNA.  He reminded journalists that even Darwin required a creator to start it all.  He also says that the resurrection of Jesus has more evidential support than any other miracle.  His stumblingblock is the problem of evil in the world.  He regards Islam with horror and fear due to their desire to conquer the world.

Robert Schuller, of the Glass Cathedral.

Two of Schuller’s students are Bill Hybels and Rick Warren.  Schuller says we do wrong in making people aware that they are sinners.  He stresses mans value instead of mans unworthiness.  The boys have learned well.  Hybel, Warren, and Schuller have had more input in our Churches in the last 10 years than Paul or Peter.  Incidentally, Schuller said it would not disturb him to come back in 200 years and find his descendants Muslims.  That will never happen simply because he isn’t coming back.

Fuller Theological Seminary President speaks to Mormons.

In speaking to them in Salt Lake, Richard Moun apologized that evangelicals “have often misrepresented the faith and beliefs of the Latter Day Saints.  We evangelicals have sinned against you.”  Better think twice before you send your Preacher to a Fuller Church growth meeting.  Our preachers are attending in droves to Rick Warren, Jack Hayford and other such gurus  who espouse the Fuller attitude.  They invite in every hue of sectarianism to these Church growth meetings including Mormons.

TBN’s Paul CrouchThe charismatic Paul Crouch of TBN attempted to conceal the fact that he was gay by paying $425,000.00 to Laverne Ford who eventually exposed him.  Crouch also said, “I have come to the conviction that Martin Luther made a mistake, he should have never left the Catholic Church.  I am eradicating the word Protestant from my vocabulary.  I am not protesting anything.  It’s time for Catholics and Non-Catholics to come together as one in the spirit and one in the Lord.”  TBN is an apostate network that some of our men appear on for interviews.

Max Lucado

Max Lucado, the new darling of the North American Christian Convention, used to be a Church of Christ preacher.  In October, he changed the name of Oak Hills Church of Christ.  He dropped the “Church of Christ” name in an effort to reach people hesitant to attend a Church of Christ.  His Church jumped from 3,300 to 4,500 in 6 months.  At a Charismatic Promise Keepers rally he said, “It does not matter about your denomination, it’s all about God.”  Oak Hills has a booklet called, “

The Purpose of a Teaching Position

”.  It says,

“A teaching position serves to articulate the convictions of the Oak Hills leadership on a particular doctrine or practice.  This paper on the topic of baptism is useful for:

1.      

Those who have never been baptized.

 If you want to become a member of Oak Hills and have not been baptized, we ask you to do so.

2.      

Those who have been baptized

, but not by immersion.  We have many potential members who were baptized by sprinkling, usually as infants.  This paper will help you see why we baptize by immersion.  It also explains why we don’t baptize infants.  We urge you to read the paper and consider adult baptism.  If you choose not to be immersed at this time, we still welcome you as a member.  We ask only that you respect this position and not be divisive.  Members serving in instructional capacities (such as Bible class teachers, small group leaders, and ministry leaders, elders and staff ministers) need to be in agreement and compliance with the teaching position.

3.      

Those who have been baptized by immersion.

 It is our prayer that this study will give you new insights into the beauty, simplicity, and significance of this demonstration of devotion.

Open membership was the hottest debated issue in the Restoration Movement in the last century.  Today, the Brethren heading up our Colleges and conventions and camps have no conscience at all of bringing in apostates like Max Lucado, David Reagan and others of that persuasion.

Tony Compolo

They even bring in Tony Compolo, who even many denominational Churches will not use because of his stating that homosexuals were born that way.  He has socialist agendas.  He was brought to a heresy trial in 1985 for saying that Christ is in every human being. His wife promotes homosexual marriages.  He often uses vulgarisms in the pulpit to shock and shame his listeners.  His defense, “what’s worse, is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said [vulgarism] than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night!”  This was repeated at one of our schools.

John Hagee

John Hagee of TV fame believes that the spiritual gifts still continues today is getting a larger following.  He has raised thousands of dollars to move Jews to the Holy Land, uprooting Palestinian Christians in the process.  He believes Christians should have no duty to evangelize Jews since eventually.  “All Israel will be saved.”  He is a Christian Zionist.  He pals around with Benny Hinn and other Charismatic charlatans.  He is best known for his pushing of the Jewish agenda, thinking they have a spiritual relationship with God that will bring about their redemption without Christ but by living only in the light of the Torah.  He says,

“I’m not out to convert the Jewish people to the Christian faith.”  He adds, “In fact, trying to convert Jews is a waste of time.  The Jewish person who has his roots in Judaism is not going to convert to Christianity.  There is no form of Christian evangelism that has failed so miserably as evangelizing the Jewish people.  They (already) have a faith structure.  Everyone else, whether Buddhist or Baha’i, needs to believe in Jesus.  But not Jews.  Jews already have a covenant with God that has never been replaced by Christianity”.

Hagee is renown for taking on anti-Semetics but he is in reality, the true anti-Semetic for he will not evangelize the Jew and give them what they need for eternal salvation.

Rick Warren

Rich Warren, of “The Purpose Driven Church”, and “The Purpose Driven Life” fame has changed the Christian Churches and Churches of Christ more than any fad for the past century due to gullibility of our preachers.  He has been fellowshipping with John Templeton of the John Templeton Foundation.  Templeton awards a million dollars to different persons who further the cause of harmonizing world religions.  These have been awarded Agnostics, Pantheists, Hindu’s, Muslims, Buddhists, Jews as well as Billy Graham, Chuck Colson, Bill Bright, and Mother Teresa.

Is Rick after such?

Who knows?  Having sold millions of books, he certainly does not need the money.  He is now one of the judges for a written essay contest that Templeton is holding.  He will serve as judge in the contest with renowned left-wing radicals.

TV Attention Deficit DisorderPortland (Oregon) Life found that for every hour per day preschoolers watch TV, then chance of developing attention deficit disorders later in life has boosted 10%.  This is an alarming fact.  You need more than control.  Abstinence may be easier than temperance.

Billy GrahamRobert Schuller asked Billy Graham this question, “Tell me, what do you think is the future of Christianity?”

Graham’s reply was:

“Well, Christianity and being a true believer you know, I think there’s the Body of Christ.  This comes from all the Christian groups around the world.  Outside the Christian groups, I think everybody who knows Christ, whether they are conscious of it or not, they’re members of the Body of Christ.  I don’t think that we’re going to see a great sweeping revival that will turn the whole word to Christ at any time.  I think James answered that.  The Apostle James in the first council in Jerusalem, when he said that God’s purposes for this age is to call out a people for His name whether they come from the Muslim world, or the Buddhist world, or the Christian world, or the non-believing world, they are members of the Body of Christ, because they’ve been called by God.  They may not even know the name of Jesus, but they know in their hearts that they need something that they don’t have, and I think they turn to the only light they have, and I think that they are saved, and that they are going to be in heaven with us”  (Billy Graham, televised interview with Robert Schuller, May 13, 1997).

In response to Graham’s totally unscriptural statement, Schuller explained, “What, what I hear you saying is that it’s possible for Jesus Christ to come into human hearts and soul and life even if they’ve been born in darkness and never had an exposure to the Bible.  Is that a correct interpretation of what you are saying?”Graham answered, “Yes, it is because I believe that.  I’ve met people in various parts of the world in tribal situations, that they have never seen a Bible or heard about a Bible, and never heard of Jesus, but they’ve believed in their hearts that there was a God, and they’ve tried to live a life that was quite apart from the surrounding community in which they lived.”  This was 1997.  But even as far back as 1961 Graham said of infant baptism,

“ I have some difficulty in accepting the indiscriminate baptism of infants without a careful regard as to whether the parents have any intention of fulfilling the promise they make.  But I do believe that something happens at the baptism of an infant, particularly if the parents are Christians and teach their children Christian truths from childhood.  We cannot fully understand the miracles of God, but I believe that a miracle can happen in these children so that they are regenerated, that is, made Christians, through infant baptism.  If you want to call that baptismal regeneration, that’s all right with me.”  

(Lutheran Standard October 10

th

, 1961)

Graham has for years turned over the names of those who came forward at his rallies to the Churches from which they came.  In 1957 Graham said, “Anyone who makes a decision at our meetings is seen later and referred to local clergymen, Protestant, Catholic or Jewish.”  (San Francisco news)

Yet many of our top leaders in our own Churches appear with Graham and support his crusades...SHAME!

“KINSEY” Movie,

You need to know that Alfred Kinsey, the hero of the movie, was a pervert, pedophile, wife swapper, bi-sexual and the one who deceived America with his false

Kinsey Report

.  He is the one who made up the lie that 10% of Americans are homosexual.  He used for his own survey prison inmates and prostitutes.  He made his staff perform lewd sex acts on film.  He employed no trained statistician.  He himself should have been imprisoned as a pedophile.  The American Legislative Exchange Council (2400 State Legislators) recently concluded the

Kinsey Report

was “illegal and criminal acts masquerading as science.”  See proof of all this in a book by Judith Rusmar and another by Susan Brinkmann or contact the eagleforum.org website.

The above news information has been gleaned from

The Calvary Contender

,

The Sword of the Lord

,

O Timothy

,

Christian News

,

The Eagle Forum

, and

The Way of Life

magazines.  These groups do a great service in marking those who teach contrary to what the Christian has learned from the Holy Apostles.

#MORE TRUTH>>> steve-finnell.blogspot.com

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 17 - "my hands"

Season 9, episode 3 "Final shot" (this is the one where the team has to catch a sniper: initially they thought the unsub was motivated by racism, and when they discover that the gun was the same used a few months before by "The General" - in prison, ex leader of a white supremacists group - to kill a black councilman - Adrian Clay - AND that in one of the shootings the assistant d.a. prosecuting him for that crime was killed; they decide to interview him. Re-interpretation of the scene where Morgan and JJ hold hands to make uncomfortable "The General" - racist son of a b*tch - during the interrogation... only there's Reid instead of JJ ;)

I believe @amplifreid and @smileythirteen asked me to tag them ❤️

Also, in my imaginary world, Morgan and Reid are a well established couple by season 9, but to illustrate this scene properly I think it was way better to assume they weren't a couple yet. Also with the same intent, the interview to "The General" (Adam Dawson) happens in an interrogation room with the one-way mirror glass and everything. Bear with the divergence from the actual scene - some of Dawson, Morgan and JJ's (=Reid) lines do remain pretty much the same, though

Read it on AO3

-------------

"Look at the change in his posture when Morgan got in..." Blake sighed, staring attentively at the interrogation room on the other side of the one-way glass. "Cocky. This guy's not gonna give us anything useful."

Rossi gave her an agreeing look, silently mimicking her head-shake while his hands slid in the pockets of his jeans.

"We'll have to work with that. Playing the black agent card is our best and only shot." Hotch replied.

"It's also very much obvious..." Blake added half-heartedly.

"He'll be too blinded by hate to even notice." Reid reassured her with a shrug, finally saying something after being glued to the glass for a few minutes with his arms folded on his chest, concentrated on the interrogation.

-

"Mr Dawson," Morgan greeted the convict with a fake polite tone, closing the door behind his back.

He sat in front of him and crossed his hands atop the metallic table. "Do you happen to have wondered why you're here?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"I have a few guesses, yes." Dawson answered confidently.

Morgan tilted his head, while his brows shot up. He'd already picked up on what type of attitude the guy was planning to pull off on him for the whole duration of the interview. 

"Would you mind naming a couple of those for me?"

Dawson sighed, nodding his head. "I guess we're talking about my past involvement with the Southern Aryans."

"Past?"

"Past. Look, I even got my tattoos removed." he confirmed, not hesitating to show him the laser scar on the inside of his arm with a self-complacent grin, even if constricted in his movements by the cuffs chained to the table top.

Morgan couldn't bring himself to feign praising at the thought the guy once marked his skin with symbols and slogans to proudly remind himself and others that not only he was a racist son of a bitch, but more than that he also acted upon those retrograde and disgusting ideologies of his. So he just nodded, not even bothering to actually look at Dawson's arm.

-

Hotch's phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the dynamic slowly - very slowly - unfolding in the other room.

"What is it Garcia?"

"My baby is in there with Dawson right?? Not that you aren't my baby too, sir- I MEAN you guys ALL are my babies regardless of our age gap-"

"Garcia." Aaron reprimanded her.

"Yes! I'm- I'm sorry, back to business: I managed to dig deep and dirty into every single detail about the murder of Adrian Clay, and in general every little, petty criminal activity this group of disgusting bigots have committed." she paused, gulping so noisily they could all hear it through the phone.

"They- they have engaged in a series of, quote unquote, 'harassments of any sort', in those areas of the city principally frequented by the lgbtq+ community through these past couple years. And- and Clay himself was rumored to be homosexual, but there's no reliable source for that." she explained in a rush, like she wanted to get it out of her brain as quickly as her breath allowed her to.

"...don't know about you, but I'm not all that surprised the shitheads are also homophobic. Those things don't sound like anything a group of neo-nazis wouldn't do, am I right?" Rossi snorted. "They'll target anything 'impure'." he air-quoted the word.

"Yes, that's what I had imagined too, I just- I just hoped I didn't have to get to the point of reading proof of it with my poor, pretty eyes! Like these guys weren't evil on earth already..."

"Garcia, is there a reason why you're telling us this?" Hotch furrowed his brows. They were running out of time, and Morgan was running out of questions aiming at making Dawson say what they wanted him to say.

"Actually sir, I hoped you'd ask because YES, there is a reason, and I know that this is not part of my job but I was thinking that maybe...you guys could use his homophobia at your advantage?" she kept it vague and stopped for a second to catch a reaction. Anything at all. But the others stayed silent to digest that idea.

"like, one of you boys could go in there and act a lil? Believe me I would sacrifice myself for that role, but you know-"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. As Blake said earlier, Dawson was probably expecting us to use a black agent anyway, but this could actually set him off because it's a part of the group's criminal activity that's been hidden from the media and the general public. We're not supposed to even know about this." Reid spoke his mind out loud, receiving in response complete silence and three - well, four, if you count Garcia - pairs of eyes staring at him.

He stared back at them with his lips parted. "W-what? I'm right, right ?"

"You are." Blake simply said, raising a brow.

With a little delay compared to the others' - which NEVER happened - Spencer's mind started to process what that whole staring contest was supposed to mean.

"No- guys, I'm- I'm too young he won't- he'll never fall for it! If you take in account that I look way younger than I am, the age gap between me and Morgan is too wide, he's not a fool I can't-" he was starting to stutter and flush and almost hyperventilate to the point Hotch had to interrupt him.

"Reid. You know it has to be you." he gave him an apologetic look.

Reid wasn't trying to dodge the situation because he had a problem with fake flirting - he did not have a single problem with doing that. On the contrary: fake flirting for an interrogation or the like was the only way for Spencer to manage to pull off a flirty attitude with someone, covering it up with the fact that he was simply good at acting, since in actuality flirting wasn't exactly his first natural skill - it was Derek's. Problem was: he had to flirt with Derek Morgan, not someone.

On the other hand, Spencer also perfectly knew why it was their best shot to send him in instead of Hotch. Still, it was worth the try to dissuade him.

"You could do it, right?" he asked apprehensively, the tone of his voice lower and less certain than before.

Hotch knew he didn't need to explain it to him, so he didn't bother, keeping his gaze steady. Blake took on that duty for him, though:

"Spencer, you are exactly Dawson and his followers' stereotype of ideal human being. You're young, educated, intelligent, attractive, and more importantly: white." she paused, seeing that Reid had embarrassedly dropped his eyes when she mentioned him being attractive. Guess Morgan wasn't the only one labeling him as 'pretty boy' then.

"The only thing that parts you from being total perfection in his eyes, is your sexual orientation." she concluded.

"The minute we send you in, he'll think you're there to save him from an uncomfortable interview with a black agent. But when you'll start making avancés on Morgan, the guy will freak out." Rossi added, straight up.

Making avancés on Morgan. Dear God - Spencer knew he could do that with a minimum effort, and certainly without Derek making a big deal out of it; however the issue was: he would never get away with the physical reaction the avancés on Derek 's part would certainly trigger in his body, would he?

"THAT's what I meant!" Penelope's squealing voice filled the room all of a sudden, reminding them that she was still on speaker phone.

"Alright, thanks Garcia, that was a good catch." Hotch's firm facial expression never wavered an inch, even when he complimented her.

"Duty, sir."

"We can't call Morgan out, though. It has to be unexpected." he added, now only talking to his teammates in the room.

Without waiting for the others' agreeing - there was no need for that: he was right - Hotch pressed the button that allowed him to talk into Morgan's earpiece.

-

"Morgan. Guy's not only racist, but also homophobic. We're sending Reid in."

Morgan swallowed, trying not to make Dawson notice that he received an unspoken command he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be ready to obey, nor handle - emotionally AND physically.

When the door opened a second after, though, and he glanced over his shoulder at his tall, lean colleague standing behind him, waiting for permission to come in, Derek figured it shouldn't be all that hard to flirt with that.

"Pretty boy! Have a seat, we're having fun here." he gave Spencer his brightest grin, hand gesturing at him to come closer.

The younger agent smiled awkwardly and closed the door, making his way to the chair only 5 inches beside Derek's - who, by the way, was overly aware that their knees would inevitably touch if he didn't pay attention to keeping his legs glued together.

As Spencer got comfortable in his seat, keeping eye contact with him and subtly brushing his tongue in between his pink lips, Derek wondered if that was gonna come naturally to Spencer as it surely was to him. From the look on his face and his body language, Derek was leaning toward yes as an answer to that question.

"Mr Dawson is sick and tired of me." Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair to stretch an arm on the backrest of Spencer's. "Guessing you came here with a few questions of your own?" he asked him.

"I did." Spencer replied, squinting at Dawson with an inquisitive look. "Mr Dawson, by any chance you've kept in contact with the other members of the Southern Aryans' group?"

"Agent-"

"Doctor." Derek pointed out dryly. "Doctor Spencer Reid." the way he pronounced his name caused Spencer to shift in his seat. Morgan wasn't quite sure why.

"Doctor, then." Dawson snorted, eyebrows raised in surprise as to why the older agent cared that much about specifying the other's title. "As I was saying: I'm in prison. My opportunities to socialize are...somewhat limited." he replied sarcastically. Which was how he'd been doing it at every single question Derek had asked.

The fact that he was managing to keep that cocky attitude was a sign that he wasn't uncomfortable enough. Everyone had imagined he would've got all jittery the second the nickname "pretty boy" would've come out of Morgan's mouth. Apparently so, Derek had to step up his game.

"Spencer, baby," Derek called him so he'd lean back in his chair as well, drawing his face farther away from "The General" and from under the blinding neon light beam illuminating the area of the table.

-

Reid leaned back as Morgan had implicitly asked him to, crossing his arms on his chest. Spencer, baby. The instinctive part of his brain didn't hesitate a second to recognize the combination of pet name + uncommon use of his first name, associated with Derek's deep voice. Probably because he'd imagined his colleague calling him that a thousand times, along with other names - some less appropriate than others - he couldn't keep his mind from drifting to when he heard that voice of his. The other part of his grey matter though, the logical, predominant one, the one used to Morgan only calling him by his last name or "pretty boy" and "kid" at most; sent a tingling sensation from the canal of his ear where the words reached him, all the way down to his arms and hands.

Spencer kept his gaze on the convict sitting across from them, as he realized Derek had inched dangerously closer to his ear. Dawson shifted nervously in his seat, jerking his eyes away from the two of them.

"You think we should kiss at some point? " the man asked mockingly at last, whispering and with a hand half-covering the motions of his mouth: he was acting like he didn't want Dawson to be able to hear, or read his labial - which, on the contrary, was exactly his plan.

Spencer froze. He tried to keep his look on Dawson unchanged. What he could NOT control, though, was the sensation of heat spreading up his neck, 3 inches from Derek's mouth. Dawson, too, was very noticeably trying to contain his sickened reaction, which turned out to be a mere close-eyed sigh and an irritated clench of jaw.

Reid pulled off the most natural chuckle he could, before answering out loud.

"I don't think it'll be necessary." it was true: Derek had asked only as a joke, and Spencer understood that. But he kinda wished in that moment it were appropriate for him to reply "yes, please, tongue me down during an interrogation."

Derek leaned forward again, finally removing his eyes from that spot of Spencer's jawline below his ear that moved as he spoke.

"Anyway. That's not what we heard." he said, pointing at him and Reid with his finger. "Rumor has it that you're in charge. In fact, you're still known as 'The General'."

"Some folks would like to, uh, imbue me with a great deal of power. But it's a mantle I choose not to accept." The General answered, his voice less arrogant than before and maybe even ever-so-slightly hoarse.

"So you COULD call the shots, you just... choose not to...?" Reid asked, unconvinced and a bit concerned about what kind of annoyingly fake-innocent answer the guy would give this time.

"That's what I said. How can I lead when I no longer believe, 'pretty boy' ?" Dawson replied, back at it with his smug tone, air-quoting the nickname.

Spencer had the abrupt - albeit fictitious - feeling that someone was knotting his guts with their bare hands, when he heard the man pronouncing those two words. Sacred, two words, only reserved to Morgan.

"Doctor Spencer Reid, is my name. Thought you were smart enough to understand it the first time." he said ice cold, leaning forward, knuckles white from crossing his hands too tightly over the table top.

"You're not allowed to call him that." Morgan stated, his black eyes piercing through the man in front of them.

"With all due respect, that's what you called him earlier, agent Morgan."

"With all due respect, Spencer is MY boyfriend, not yours." Derek bit back.

The lack of hesitation in pronouncing the words 'Spencer is my boyfriend' and how good they sounded coming out of Morgan's lips, along with the way he untangled Reid's hands to take one of them in his, warmly and comfortingly intertwining their fingers to loosen the tension in his phalanges - all of it, made Spencer's heart speed up, and his lungs hitch as he breathed, and his mouth water, realizing now more than ever how much he actually wished all of that could be real.

-

"Although I bet you wish he was your boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan added, teasing Dawson even more. The man snorted, but his body language was telling them that he was struggling to keep an unbothered attitude.

"Is that why you killed Adrian Clay? Because he was black and probably had a boyfriend, just like agent Morgan here?" Spencer asked.

Derek looked at him with his brows raised, pleased at how well he was keeping up with his game. Though, that sensation managed to ease only partially the slight but sudden feeling of discomfort that hit in his chest, at the news that the councilman that was killed was black AND gay, just like...him? Was he bisexual? The things flashing in Morgan's mind in reaction to the proximity with Reid's body, and that feeling of having his hand melting in his - the feeling that holding Spencer's hand was right - were making Derek doubt even more his already unclear understanding of his own sexual orientation. Doctor Spencer Reid was making him doubt once again his sexual orientation.

Clenching his hands in tight fists, Dawson made an effort to visibly swallow the expectedly offensive comments he bore on the matter - Derek found himself mentally thanking him for that - and shifted his eyes toward the wall at his left, too disgusted by him and Spencer to keep looking at them any longer.

As soon as he did that, Morgan felt Reid's hand slipping out of his, much to his silent disapproval.

"Alright Derek we- we're wasting our time here." Spencer mumbled, turning his back on Derek with his eyes low and placing a palm on the table top, about to stand up from the chair.

Derek had the impression that Spencer's reaction was somewhat genuine, that he really was starting to get triggered by The General's attitude - righteously. But, as selfish as he knew it sounded, he didn't want Reid to leave his side. His hand. Him.

Before he could effectively get up, Morgan wrapped his hand around that spot on Reid's arm, the crook where his forearm met his bicep, a couple inches below his shirt rolled up sleeve; that spot where his exposed skin was sensitive enough that those curling fingers sprung tickling chills everywhere, intense to the point of Spencer freezing in place and turning his head to give Derek worried puppy eyes and sweet, slightly pouty lips that Goddammit can I just KISS them off his face?

"C'mon baby, I just have a few more questions" Derek settled to say, softly, trying to recover from that fucking look of his.

"No seriously, can- can we just g-"

"Hey, hey, hold tight. We haven't even got to the point yet. It'll only take a second and then we don't have to see this son of a bitch's face anymore alright? Promise." Morgan reassured him; pitch black irises staring straight into hazel brown ones.

Spencer sighed and nodded, as Derek loosened the grip. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, annoyed but ready to listen to more of the man's crap.

Dawson snorted. "You must have quite the nerve to come in here and insult me, tell me I'm a racist and a homophobic-"

"Nobody said either of those things, Mr Dawson." Derek tilted his head. "We asked, and you didn't answer. Not verbally anyway. Seems to me that now you are the one saying those words, uh?"

"What do you know about today's events?" Reid cut it short, not even willing to wait for Dawson's reaction at Morgan's insinuation.

"Today's events?"

"You must have heard about the shootings." Derek specified, carelessly leaning on the backrest, and decided it was the moment to do what he had planned on doing since Spencer entered the room.

-

Reid had his eyes fixated on Dawson, to catch every single twitch of his facial muscles, or minute movement of his body.

Suddenly he felt a hot, broad hand wrapping around his inner thigh. He sincerely hoped the only physical reaction to that were his toes curling up inside his shoes, or at worst how his breath got stuck in his throat for a second, and nothing visible on the outside - because on the inside, he could feel his whole abdomen heat up at a concerning rate.

When the man's hand started stroking back and forth, each time his palm went upwards it seemed to Spencer that it was getting closer and closer to that part of his body he wished so bad Derek wasn't aiming for - at least not in that context. Spencer tightened the grip of his hands bracing his arms, thanking God that shirts were made of cotton and not paper that would start flaking off under the squeezing pressure of sweaty fingers.

He couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off Dawson, especially now that he'd seen Morgan's hand on Reid's thigh and had immediately stiffened up; his temples glimmering with sweat under the neon light.

Dawson gulped nervously and looked away from the whole rubbing of skin on fabric, bringing his gaze back to Morgan's smirking face. "Enlighten me."

"The assistant d.a. prosecuting you for the murder of Adrian Clay was killed." Reid condensed the explanation, realizing that if he wanted to look natural he had to say something. He admittedly did a pretty good job at keeping his voice steady, considering Morgan's hand seemed having no intention to find rest any time soon.

A confused scowl crinkled the convict's face.

"Did you order that hit?" Derek asked. To be fair, both him and Spencer were almost 100% sure by then that the guy had no idea what they were talking about.

"I had nothing to do with it." Dawson asserted without hesitation, his voice deep and unfazed.

By that point, Spencer had relaxed into the other's touch, and he didn't know whether it was supposed to be a good sign or not. He didn't know whether the fact that he melted like jelly under Morgan's hands, even being usually uncomfortable with touching in general, was a good sign because it meant that he felt safe within their friendship and trustful of him; or it was a bad sign because it meant that his body was designed to be touched like that by his colleague and him only. He didn't know whether it was good that if he thought of anyone else - his former crush JJ, for instance - touching him in a way that wasn't finalized to be emotionally comforting, he would picture it as uneasy regardless, be it 30 seconds or 30 minutes long; whereas he was almost certain that that very same kind of touch applied upon his body by Morgan's hands would be in equal parts electrifying and soothing each time, all the time.

He wasn't supposed to try and understand any of it, though. Nobody was asking that of him - Derek wasn't asking and would never ask that of him. There was no need for Spencer to spend hours analyzing how that kind of approach would affect him. Because it was an unrealistic scenario that didn't belong in his future, anyway.

A growing wave of self-consciousness and realism woke Reid up from that thought. All of a sudden he realized he couldn't bear staying there any longer than a couple minutes at best. Hence, he speeded things up.

-

"You had nothing to do with it?" Spencer's calm voice echoed in the room that had been silent for a while. Dawson didn't repeat himself.

Derek was ready to throw in the towel - he was frustrated that the case wouldn't come to a solution as easy and logical as a white supremacist targeting the assistant d.a. prosecuting him, but on the other hand he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed spending time touching Spencer without the commitment of having to admit he would've wanted to do it regardless of the interview.

With the corner of his eye he saw Spencer finally untangling his arms and stretching one of them toward him. He didn't have the time to take a mental guess on what he was planning to do, that he felt his feather-like fingers slightly brushing against his nape.

Derek's palm stopped moving on the other's thigh, immobilized, the moment Spencer's cotton-hand spread to cup the back of his neck; a lukewarm and soft sensation growing on the very surface of his skin as well as deep inside his chest - nothing short of a cheesy metaphor, if you will, of how Spencer's touch had the power of rocking up both his emotions AND his body.

When Spencer's thumb started tracing slow circles on the side of his neck, Derek found himself imperceptibly tilting his head back to sink into his touch; trying not to put pressure or, way worse, squeeze the other man's thigh, who might've taken it as a cue that Morgan was enjoying what he was doing. He most certainly was, by the way.

"And that would be, because you're not racist or homophobic anymore?" Spencer ultimately asked.

God, he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when it came to pushing all the bad guys' buttons. And they couldn't even get mad, with that face that he had. At least, Derek knew he could never - best case scenario, he would limit to sprinkling said face with kisse- ahem, what?

-

"I'm done talking to you." Dawson claimed, having pulled himself together enough to bring back almost entirely that confident attitude he had when Morgan first got in.

"Oh, we are too." Morgan said arching his brows. He stood up on his feet, regretting detaching from Reid's contact immediately after.

"Mr Dawson, I can't tell you how impressed i am with you!" he added dry-wittingly.

Derek leaned forward over the table and grabbed the man's hands in his own, cuffed to the cold, metallic surface. He kept his eyes no more than 7 inches from his, making sure he couldn't escape them.

"So I'd like to shake your hand, and congratulate you for making such a positive change in your life." he said, his voice low and thorough, resonating in The General's ears.

Dawson lost his cool and instinctively tried to snatch his hands away from Morgan's grip, soon realizing it wasn't his grip he couldn't escape, rather the one obliged by the chained handcuffs.

"I'd be really careful." Morgan advised, a stabbing glare in his eyes.

"Because somebody might think you still believe."

Clearly, Derek had long lost any interest in keeping the boyfriend-play going: he looked furious and quite nauseous - and it was his God-given right to feel as such. Nonetheless, that was nothing but the millionth proof that Spencer had no reason to fantasize about their relationship becoming something more, someday.

Morgan stormed out of the room. Reid followed a few seconds after, which he'd spent shooting Dawson one last glance - not nearly as threatening and blood-freezing as his colleague's, but still.

-

When they got on the other side of the glass, Reid felt all eyes on them - especially on him, for some reason. It was like someone slapped him back into reality.

"Sorry guys, I- I kinda snapped." Morgan finally spoke up, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing his face.

"Don't. It was very much understandable." Blake reassured him, waving a hand and shaking her head.

"Well, what can I say?" Rossi changed the topic. "Great job in there." he added with a hint of smirk, arching a brow and shifting his gaze from Spencer to Derek and viceversa several times.

"Pretty boy here did all the work." Derek's tone was lighter now, as he pointed at pretty boy.

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, unable to even say a due "thank you" - it would've come off as pathetic in that moment, to say the least.

"It- it was kinda useless, though...he had no idea what we were talking about." he said instead, sighing disappointedly and crossing his arms on his chest.

"He didn't even explicitly confess anything about his past crimes that we brought up. We literally only managed to confirm that he's a racist, homophobic piece of shit." Derek scoffed.

"We didn't need to put up a show for that though, did we?" he concluded, as his previous frustration arose again; seconds before splitting his way through his standing teammates to get out of the room.

They followed him with their eyes, and once the door was closed - slammed, almost - behind him, they got back to looking at Reid, who was frowning deeply.

After a long silence, Rossi nodded his head toward the door, like he was giving him permission to go and talk to Morgan.

Reid sighed and followed Morgan's previous steps, trying to hide how his words and tone from earlier had someway offended him. Judging by his demeanor and his glances in the interrogation room, Spencer could've sworn Derek seemed to have almost enjoyed it - he didn't care that it was probably more of a mocking kind of enjoyment, rather than a genuine 'I enjoyed touching you'. It was still something. And, at the end of the day, Derek Morgan had rubbed a hand on his thigh 2 inches from his groin, for Christ's sake, how dare he keep complaining?

He was startled awake from his paranoia by Hotch's hand, placed on his shoulder the second Spencer had grabbed the door handle.

"I hope I didn't push you too much. I'm sorry if I did."

Spencer shook his head. "Not me. I don't know about Morgan, though."

-

"Hey" a soft voice awakened Morgan from his thoughts.

He stopped pacing up and down the hallway and raised his eyes from the floor. He truly wasn't expecting Reid to follow him.

"H- hey, kid."

"Everything alright?"

No. Nothing was alright. From how wrong and dirty Dawson's behavior made him feel, to how right he found himself unwillingly thinking the contact with Spencer's body was: NOTHING was alright.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." he answered anyway.

Spencer nodded, unconvinced. And this time it wasn't because of his capability to read his colleague and best friend like an open book, rather simply because Derek didn't know how to hide his discomfort anymore.

Reid made a few steps forward, supposedly to make the conversation more intimate - though nobody was really around, so that left the other a bit confused. Plus, boy was definitely too close now, if it was Derek's to say.

"Look, I- I'm sorry it had to be me, I tried to convince Hotch to do it at my place but- but he said that I was more suited to be-" Spencer almost hiccuped. "...for the role, because I'm younger and-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, it's not you." Derek interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder, seeing that he was starting to get flustered and even guilty on some measure. He also noticed how he avoided the word 'boyfriend'. He wasn't sure what to think of that, though.

"It's him. How he looked at us- at ME. I just- I don't know, I just can't believe some people out there really think it's not normal to be gay or black or both, that's all." Derek paused. "as if one could help it, right?" he snorted.

Spencer raised his eyes from the floor. "Yeah. I get that." he murmured.

Derek chuckled a little as a thought popped into his head, taking his hand off of Spencer's shoulder and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Honestly I don't know if I could've done it with Hotch. He's my superior, it would've been...weird, lemme tell you."

Reid giggled and...blushed a little? At least that's what it seemed. Morgan didn't take it well, though: he thought he'd made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," he swallowed sheepishly. "I mean, I hope I didn't...mess you up. I know you're not comfortable with touching."

-

Mess him up. That was cute. Derek Morgan had "messed him up" the second he had introduced himself to Spencer on his first day at the BAU. The guy had never known Spencer as not messed up.

"W- what?? No, no absolutely not, it was part of the thing. We- you had to...touch me. Wouldn't have worked otherwise." Spencer replied, furrowing his brows and shaking his head vigorously.

Silence.

"I have to ask you this..." Morgan said, regaining his usual teasing attitude. Reid wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved, because it meant the man had relaxed a little; or if he should start worrying about what that attitude would imply. Probably the second.

"Ask what?" Spencer hoped his heart couldn't be heard as loudly from outside as it was inside his ears.

"Was it all...acting?" Derek paused, and Spencer faked a confused expression, because before answering he had to be sure he meant what he thought he meant.

"...cause it looked very natural, if you ask me." Yeah, he did mean what Spencer thought he meant.

Morgan looked around quickly and came even closer. He non-chalantly took Reid's tie in his hands and straightened it - earning a gasp from him - biting his bottom lip like he was really concentrated on the task - which he wasn't. He didn't give a shit if his tie was ok, he was clearly doing it to make Reid's blood pulse out of his veins.

"Was it? Natural?" he repeated, almost murmuring at that point.

Spencer didn't know what to answer: he had stopped the train of thought that would've eventually led to a proper answer to that question when he was in the interrogation room, and he had suddenly realized that Derek would never ask such a thing of him. And there he was: asking it to him.

"I guess, kinda...? I- I'm not sure-" he finally replied, his chin tilted down to follow with his eyes what the man's hands were carefully doing with his tie, taking advantage in the fact that Derek couldn't look at his face in order to do that.

He couldn't stop his mind from drifting to that imaginary place where Morgan's hands would most definitely not stick to adjusting his tie; that place where he was allowed to wonder that if the man was so good at adjusting ties, then what else could those nimble fingers do.

As if that weren't enough already, Derek ran his tongue in between his lips, before speaking up.

"Me neither."

Suddenly, he raised his eyes to look at something that was happening behind Reid's shoulder. He coughed and nodded in that direction, forcing himself to take his hands off Spencer.

Reid turned around and saw it: Hotch, Blake and Rossi were walking their way toward them; luckily chatting instead of looking at Morgan "adjusting his tie" or whatever.

-

"And did you mind? My hands, I mean." Derek whispered in his ear from behind him, making him wince at how those words flowed smoothly in a hot, steamy wave over his neck.

Spencer didn't turn around, nor look at him with the corner of his eye - which he could've easily done. He concentrated on staring forward at their teammates approaching closer, rather than on the inviting heat radiating from the man only a few inches behind him.

"...n- not- not really..." he muttered, not sure what kind of nerve pushed him to give Morgan even the slightest hint that he could've enjoyed it, instead of denying adamantly.

Another breathy, humid whisper tickled his ear.

"Me neither."

#criminal minds #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #shematthew #sperek #cm tag #criminal minds season 9 #criminal minds 9x3 #criminal minds final shot #aaron hotchner #hotch #david rossi #alex blake #penelope garcia #moreid one shot #moreid one shot 17 #moreid fanfiction #dr reid #bau #behavioral analysis unit #pining

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 21/?

May I? - 21/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

A/N: You’re welcome ;)

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @geekygwen​

Life aboard the Enterprise returned to some semblance of normal. Data welcomed the routine, especially after the ordeal he and Faith were forced to endure. 

Fajo was handed over to the proper authorities where they were assured he would remain under heavy lock and key. There was still uncertainty surrounding his original release and how it was acquired so quickly. But that was not for them to investigate.

Faith took to her new role in Engineering splendidly. While she still struggled in private, Data noticed she was able to prevent any major outward signs around the crew. He suspected her sessions with Counselor Troi helped in that regard.

He himself saw the counselor twice a week as they worked towards examining his outburst of anger. It was a slow process but one Data found fascinating.

“Data,” Counselor Troi said during one of their sessions. “I know we've already discussed how your episode was triggered by Faith being in danger, but I would like to examine what Faith means to you on an emotional level.”

Data did not feel the need to say he did not have emotions since that was clearly no longer the case. 

“I have spent a significant amount of time trying to figure out the same thing,” he admitted. “In many ways, it both is and is not complicated.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Given the evidence presented to me, based on my emotional response to her distress, she is far more important to me than anyone has been prior.”

“How is that complicated?”

“It is not. It is a simple observation. The complication comes from trying to identify the meaning.”

“What do you think it means?”

“She is special to me. Given my body's response to her physical proximity I believe it is more than my positronic net becoming accustomed to her presence.”

Deanna nodded, her eyebrow raised. “Physical response?” she asked. “Have you and Faith been intimate?”

“We have shared intimate moments recently, however we have not been sexual since before our captivity.”

“I see. When you did, what were your thoughts?”

“Well, I enjoyed it a great deal. The tactile sensation was not unpleasant and I found the visuals to be...indescribable.”

Deanna tried not to look surprised but Data could sense her shock at his response. He found this curious as he knew Faith spoke with her as well. He concluded that Faith had not spoken to her about their sexual acts. He was curious as to why though the question was for Faith to answer, not the counselor.

“And having not been able to experience those sensations recently, how does that make you feel?” Deanna asked, ever the professional.

“I do not know.”

Data had not tried to put a feeling to his thoughts. In truth, it had not been a priority. Between his duties on the bridge and hers in Engineering, they saw very little of each other during the day and Faith seemed far too exhausted in the evenings to do much else other than sleep. The thought had occasionally crossed his mind however. There were still many intimate situations they had not experienced together, including intercourse.

Deanna studied him for a moment. “Data, do you think you may be experiencing sexual attraction to Faith?”

“I do find my body’s programmed response to physical stimuli to be particularly...active lately. However, it is only in her presence. It does not seem to be an error in my programming however. I have already run the necessary diagnostics.”

Deanna seemed as though she were trying to suppress a smile. “Well, I do believe you are  experiencing another emotion aside from anger.”

“Are you certain, Counselor?” Data asked, eyes lighting up. “What emotion would that be?”

“Desire.”

Data processed her response. “Interesting. I can certainly see how my thoughts and actions could be interpreted as such.”

“Have you shared any of these thoughts with Faith?”

“Yes. I have. We agreed to discuss any possible emotional responses after the incident with Fajo.”

“That's very good, Data,” Deanna beamed. “Communication is important in any relationship. Has she shared her thoughts on the subject?”

“She categorized them as affection. For the most part, she has provided an ear for me to discuss my own thoughts. Sometimes I feel she is hesitant to say what she really feels or thinks. When I asked her why, she explained that she was not an objective party and is afraid she may be projecting what she wants me to be feeling rather than what I am.”

Deanna chuckled. “That sounds like something Faith would say. And in a sense she's right. However, I am an objective party and I can honestly say that I agree. You are clearly feeling affection and desire for your partner. It's beautiful to see, Data.”

He smiled. He had noticed certain members of the crew had taken a notice to his and Faith's relationship. Dr. Crusher had expressed similar sentiments as Troi had. As did Geordi and Riker.

“Counselor,” Data said, switching his focus to a topic that had been plaguing him. “I have a question about relationships.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Faith and I have been a couple for approximately twenty-two days. At what point is it appropriate to approach the topic of marriage?”

Deanna's mouth dropped open briefly before she tried to compose herself. “You wish to marry Faith?”

“I am aware our relationship is still in its early stage, however I feel it would be prudent to tell Faith my intentions. I do not intend to propose, merely make my intentions known.”

“I see. In human terms, you wish to tell Faith you are serious about your relationship.”

“Correct.”

“Well, then, I would say you should wait for the right time to approach the subject delicately. Perhaps after a romantic dinner or date. Such a discussion is best done when you are both in the proper headspace.”

Data nodded with understanding. “I see. Thank you, Counselor.”

Deanna smiled. “You are very welcome. I believe our time is up for today. I'll see you at the same time next week.”

Data left her office, his mind racing with thoughts of their discussion. There were many aspects of human relationships he was uncertain about. Each day he learned more and more. However, he knew without a doubt he enjoyed his relationship with Faith a great deal.

He believed he was beginning to understand what Commander Riker had tried to explain to him prior to him dating Jenna. The idea of two people coming together as more than just friends did not seem different to him before. However, he realized he was mistaken.

It was different. Yes, Faith was his friend and confidante, but to have more than that constantly intrigued Data. She took care of him, not that Data required much care, but she made sure to check in with him to see how he was functioning. 

She was cautious and aware of his developing feelings and embraced them as much as she could. Not that he had shown any signs since his anger episode but she made it a point to address any questions or concerns he had.

Spot seemed to tolerate her, though Data suspected it was because Faith fed her several days a week due to Data working the night shift on the bridge. Occasionally, he had found Spot curled up behind Faith's legs when he returned to his quarters in the early morning. But the feline would immediately move and pretend as though she had not been purring.

Cats were indeed strange creatures.

When Data reached his quarters, he was surprised to find Faith there already, kicking off her shoes.

“Hey, you,” she smiled brightly, though she still seemed tired. She rubbed her feet as she winced. She had been spending many hours standing lately and he suspected they were sore.

“Hello, Faith. You are finished early.”

“Yeah, Geordi kicked me out of Engineering. Said I needed to take a break. I didn't realize how much I've been working lately.”

“Your responsibilities have increased with your promotion. I am not surprised at your workload.”

“Well, no work talk tonight. I am perfectly happy to have a quiet evening with my super cute boyfriend.” She patted the spot next to her on the bed.

Data took the offered seat, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “I am equally enthused to spend time with my aesthetically pleasing mate as well.”

Faith chuckled. “You're such a charmer.” She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“First, you must eat dinner,” Data insisted. “Then, perhaps dessert and some...intimate time?”

Faith's eyebrows shot up and she smirked. “You asking me for sex, Data?”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “If you so choose, mi alma.”

“Hell, forget the dinner!” 

She pounced on him, pinning him down to the bed. Her quickness surprised him and did not give him room to react. When she bent down to kiss him, it was much more passionate than before. 

His body responded instantly to the stimulation, his penis swelling at the sensation of her warm body sprawled out on top of his.

He had to gently push her away to break the kiss. “Faith, as arousing as this is, I must insist you eat dinner first,” he said, staring up at her. “I do not want you to miss a meal on my behalf.”

Faith sighed dramatically but there was an affectionate smile on her lips. “You're probably right. I am pretty hungry.” She gave him another kiss before sliding off his lap.

“Excellent,” Data said, sitting up and willing his body to return to its normal state. “You change into something more comfortable and I'll prepare dinner.”

Faith picked up her shoes and stood. After a quick stretch, she headed for the door. “Sounds good. I'll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Faith?” Data asked as he stood.

She paused and turned back. “Yeah, babe?”

“It seems counterproductive for you to keep your separate quarters when you spend your evenings with me. Would it not save time for you to bring your things here?”

Faith's eyes widened. “Data, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“It would be the most efficient and logical solution. We spend every evening together and I have grown accustomed to your company. I understand if you decide to decline. I do not want you to feel any obligation.”

Faith bent her head, fiddling with the shoes in her hand. When she looked at him, she gave him a soft smile. “I-I would actually really like that.”

Data smiled back. “Shall I help you with your things?”

“No, no, you stay and make dinner,” Faith insisted. “I'll grab a couple of things and come back. We can move my stuff another time.”

“As you wish.”

Cheeks considerably darker than they were before, Faith’s smile widened as she backed up towards the door. “I'll see you in a few minutes.”

When she left, Data set about preparing the table for their meal. He laid out a tablecloth and set candles in the center. Roses came next and he set them in a clear vase in the center, turning them just right so their fragrance would be directed towards Faith.

He did not always set the table but he had not done so since their first date. If they were to be intimate later, his programming highlighted the importance of having a romantic setting.

As he turned to the replicator however, a voice sounded behind him.

“Oh isn't this positively domestic?”

Data turned around to find Q sitting at the table he had just set. His appearance was unexpected and unwelcome. 

“Q? What are you doing here?” Data asked.

The being sat back looking bored. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in and see how my old friends on the Enterprise are doing. Imagine my surprise to find you, an android, shacking up with a human,” he said.

He picked up the unlit candle to examine it. Data took it from his hands and placed it back down in its proper place.

“Have you been spying on us?” Data asked. “That is extremely inappropriate. I must ask you to leave.”

“Don't get your panties in a bunch,” Q snorted. “I was only observing that little conversation you just had. Having a human move in with you? Data, I know they intrigue you but you should never bring your work home with you.”

“Faith is not work or an experiment,” Data said. “She is my girlfriend and I would appreciate it if you would not interfere in our relationship.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. I've got more important things to worry about anyway. I was simply curious about this little development. She knows you can't feel emotion right?”

“Actually, it seems I have been developing basic human emotions,” Data said. “So far I have experienced two instances of anger.”

Q sat up with interest. “Really? Do tell!”

“Perhaps another time,” Data said. “Faith will be back soon and I wish to have dinner ready when she returns.”

“Look at you, acting like a good little mate,” Q said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Such a sophisticated android who could be doing anything with his life and yet he's here playing house.”

Data studied Q. “You do not approve of my relationship with Faith.”

“I don't see the point in it. You are well aware of my feelings towards humans. Why you would waste your time with one is beyond me.”

“Then perhaps you are not as all-knowing as you claim to be.”

Q chuckled. “So sassy for an android. Did the human teach you sass?”

“Among other things. You have overstayed your welcome. Please leave. I will not be as nice if I have to ask again.”

“Alright, alright, I'm going. I'll check back in a few months to see if you still feel the same way then.”

There was a flash of white light and then Q was gone. His sudden arrival was suspicious and Data felt the captain should be made aware. 

He tapped his communicator. “Data to Captain Picard.”

“Go ahead.”

“I have just had a surprise visit from Q in my quarters. He is gone now but I thought you should be made aware.”

There was a heavy sigh from Picard. “Thank you, Mr. Data. I shall keep an eye out for the menace.”

There was a pause.

“It looks like he's made an appearance on the bridge as well.”

“Do you need assistance, sir?”

“No, no. We will handle it. Picard out.”

Satisfied he had performed his duties, Data waited two minutes to make sure he was not summoned by Q or the captain. When neither reached out, he returned to his dinner preparations. 

He replicated plates of grilled chicken, broiled potatoes, and Brussel sprouts, along with a large salad. Faith tended to replicate small dishes for herself and he wanted to make sure she received the proper nutrition. 

Faith arrived several moments later as he poured her a glass of wine, a bag slung over her shoulder. Her presence put Data at ease and turned his focus away from Q. 

“This all looks amazing,” Faith said, putting her bag on the floor by the closet. “Candles, flowers...you spoil me.”

“Is it not customary to shower your mate with romantic gestures and affection?” Data asked, holding out her chair.

Faith chuckled as she sat. She had changed into loose gray pants and a soft blue blouse. “Apparently for some people that's up for debate. I enjoy it a great deal so please don't stop.”

Data tucked her chair in before he joined her at the table. 

She picked up her fork and began to eat. “How was your day?”

The next hour or so was filled with idle talk about their various duties throughout the day. Engineering had finished routine maintenance on many of the ship's primary functions and were in the process of training new personnel. 

Data shared what he had done throughout the day and also filled her in on Q’s mysterious appearance.

“Q? As in the Q?” she asked. 

Data had told her stories of the omnipotent being several times before. “Yes, the captain is dealing with him now. It's best we ignore Q unless the captain needs our help.”

“Fine by me,” Faith said, pushing her empty plate away. “From what you've told, I'm not eager to meet him.”

“Are you ready for dessert?” Data asked, clearing their plates. 

“Yes, please! What do you have in mind?”

Data returned to the table with a chocolate lava cake, topped with vanilla ice cream. Faith clapped excitedly.

“My favorite!” she exclaimed.

“I am aware.”

Data did not anticipate how much it would please him to see Faith enjoying herself. It was a stark contrast to how she had been when they first met.

“I have the next two days free. Is there anything you'd like to do together?” she asked before taking a large bite of her dessert.

“I do wish to start planning my art show. Counselor Troi has suggested a few dates and Guinan has offered Ten Forward as a location.”

“Awesome! I'd love to help any way I can. What pieces have you decided to showcase?”

Data studied Faith carefully. She looked relaxed and happy. Though he thought that it would be a good time to approach the subject of their relationship, he concluded her agreement to move in with him already touched on the subject.

She would not have accepted if she was not serious about their union. 

“There is a painting I have been working on for some time that I wish to showcase but I would like your approval first.”

“Babe, it's your show. You don't need my approval for anything.”

“For this particular painting, I believe I do.”

He stood from the table and went to his personal office to collect the canvas. Faith patiently waited, looking confused yet intrigued.

When Data brought the painting to her, he did not reveal it right away.

“I have been working on this for some time and did not want to share it with you until I felt it captured what I was trying to convey.”

Data turned the canvas around.

The scene he had depicted was from their time in the shuttle. It was from Data's perspective, looking up at her while she straddled his lap. The image itself was from her shoulders up, though it was clear from the bareness of them that she was intended to be naked. 

Her hair was loose and wild, her eyes soft and hooded as she looked on with deep affection. He had painted the background dark blue with stars surrounding her frame as if she were a constellation and the image was his vision of her in the night sky. 

“Data…” Faith said in a low voice. “This is…” Words seemed to fail her.

“Given the intimate nature of the image, you can understand my hesitancy to use it in the show.”

Faith stood, stepping around the table to approach him. “Use the painting,” she said in a firm voice. “I've never felt more beautiful than I do when I look at the paintings you've done of me.”

Data smiled and leaned forward for a kiss. Faith responded enthusiastically. She broke it for a moment to carefully take the canvas from him and prop it against the wall before she returned her attention to him.

Her arms circled his neck as she kissed him deeply. The pressure of her lips and the way her body pressed to his let Data know how much she appreciated what he had done. She tended to be more forceful with her kisses when she was particularly emotional. 

Data placed his hands on her hips and returned the favor, nearly bending her backward as he opened his mouth to her. 

The tone shifted dramatically after that. Faith's hands tugged on his uniform, fingers buried in the fabric as her tongue boldly stroked his.

When they parted again, she was panting. “Make love to me, Data.”

Without a word, Data lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

She so seldom used such a tone that Data was compelled to follow through. It was more than that, of course. They had already been through so much together, he wanted to provide a pleasurable memory rather than an anxious one. He himself also wanted to experience sex with her and if she was ready, he would be happy to oblige.

Data laid her down on the bed before stepping out of his shoes and joining her.

“Computer, activate ‘do not disturb’ function,” Data said.

Faith smirked as the computer responded, “Do not disturb function has been activated. Communication to Lieutenant Commander Data and Lieutenant Diaz has been suspended. Commander Data's quarters are locked and cannot be overridden.”

“Afraid of being interrupted?” Faith asked.

“It does seem to happen frequently.”

“Not tonight.” She slid her hand into his hair and pulled him towards her. “Not now. It's just you and me, babe.”

Data kissed her, pressing her back into the mattress as he lay his body over hers. He was unused to being in such a dominant position however Faith did not seem to mind.

In fact, the tension left her body and she became relaxed, arms circling his neck as her mouth continued to taste his. Data did not wish to waste time, though he knew Faith did not enjoy going too fast. So he was slow and careful when he reached underneath her body to slide his hands underneath her blouse. She arched her back to help, allowing him to free her from the constricting fabric.

He broke away from her lips to sit back on his heels, peeling the shirt from her body. Her chest was already rising and falling as she took rapid breaths, her nipples hardening from the coolness of the room. He dragged her pants down and off her legs, dropping them to the floor. 

Faith reached up to do her hair, allowing her wild curls to fall around her face. Data enjoyed it that way. He liked the way the curls framed her heart-shaped face.

Once she was fully bare, she sat up to kiss him, her hands reaching around to pull at his uniform’s zipper. Data kept his focus on her body, marveling at how the smoothness and warmth felt against his palms.

When her hands slid into his uniform to touch him, he felt a change. Almost like a stab of emotion that forced a gasp from his lips.

It surprised them both.

Faith drew back. “Are you alright?”

Data nodded. “Yes. Please continue.” He kissed her rougher than he intended, muffling her surprised squeak as his hands grabbed for her again.

Suddenly, going slow did not seem like a necessity. Faith tugged at his uniform until Data managed to rid himself of it. As soon as it was gone, she straddled his lap, mouth hot as it hungrily moved against his. 

Data's erection was trapped between their bodies, nestled tightly against the wet heat of her. He had not touched her and yet, she was slick for him. Faith moaned and ground against it, drawing back from their kiss to look him in the eye.

“Please, say you want this as much as I do,” she whimpered, top teeth digging into her plump lower lip.

Emotion unlike any he had yet to experience course through Data and he flipped Faith onto her back without a second thought or hesitation. “Faith, I wish to make love to you. May I?”

She nodded with rapid movement, legs circling his waist. “Please, Data.”

He reached down to stroke her slit, only to find her more than ready for him. He still touched her, enjoying the moans and sighs that came from her when he did. 

Data pushed slowly into her. It was as if time stood still. Any background thoughts or processes went silent as Data's focus became solely on Faith. She gasped loudly, throwing her head back as he breached her.

“Stars!” 

Data froze. “Are you alright?”

He received an urgent nod and a nudge from the heel digging into his lower back. “Yes, fuck yes, keep going.”

The crude swear excited Data. It was a different side to Faith he had never witnessed and it enticed him to continue. He pushed himself in until the base of him pressed snuggly against her warmth.

Faith's body was trembling but before he could ask again if she was alright, she kissed him deeply, tongue pushing past his lips in earnest.

So Data began to move.

His thrusts were steady as he listened to the sounds Faith made. She whimpered and moaned into his mouth, seemingly unable or unwilling to stop kissing him. Remembering the sensitivity to her neck, he kissed his way there, finding the spot in question and reveling at the way her body jerked in response.

Everything about her invaded his senses. Her taste, the feel of her, the sounds she made, her scent. It all imprinted itself on his memory chips in a way he knew he'd recall for years to come.

He found when he thrust deeper, her body shook and her moans increased in volume. So he did it repeatedly. 

Faith's hands were roaming his back and shoulders, nails digging into his skin. If he were human it would have left marks.

For the first time in his existence, he wished he could bruise or be scratched. 

Her body was beginning to perspire which made her skin practically glide along with his. As much as he enjoyed the closeness, Data wanted to see her face.

Tucking his knees beneath her, he pulled himself up just enough to stare down at her, his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her head.

Faith never looked more beautiful to him than she did at that moment.

Her cheeks were dark, her eyes were nearly black from her wide pupils, and her breast moved with the force of his thrusts. She clung to him as if she were afraid he would disappear. 

The strong urge to protect her suddenly hit him tenfold and he knew that he would give her the universe if she asked.

Which was physically impossible but he would be willing to try.

“Data...I'm so close, babe,” she moaned, eyes falling closed. 

Data kissed her deeply, hand sliding between their bodies so his thumb could bring her to completion.

Faith came saying his name, back arched as she rode out her pleasure. Data did not stop. He kept going, kept stroking her nub with his thumb even when she started to tremble. He wanted to see it again. Her loss of control was extremely erotic.

The second time was not as big as the first but she was just as loud. It was only when her body sank into the bed that Data finished as well, staying inside her until his release was complete.

Dazed and smiling, Faith slid her arms around his neck and pulled him down to rest her forehead against his.

“Magical,” she panted. “Just magical.”

“I am inclined to agree. Was that satisfactory?”

“Data that was so...so...passionate.”

Data was excited at her description. Nothing he had ever done had been described as passionate before. “It is what you deserve, Faith. You deserve everything.”

Her eyes began to water but before he could grow concerned, she kissed him again and he knew she appreciated his words.

#commander data #lt commander data #Data Soong #data tng #star trek next generation

[christianstevefinnell]

What's Going On In The World?

GEORGE L. FAULL

Antony Flew, world’s most respected atheist has changed his mind.  He is now an admitted deist (one who believes God created the world and went off and left it to run on its own with no revelation of His will to His creatures.).  The thing that convinced him was the design of DNA.  He reminded journalists that even Darwin required a creator to start it all.  He also says that the resurrection of Jesus has more evidential support than any other miracle.  His stumblingblock is the problem of evil in the world.  He regards Islam with horror and fear due to their desire to conquer the world.

Robert Schuller, of the Glass Cathedral.

Two of Schuller’s students are Bill Hybels and Rick Warren.  Schuller says we do wrong in making people aware that they are sinners.  He stresses mans value instead of mans unworthiness.  The boys have learned well.  Hybel, Warren, and Schuller have had more input in our Churches in the last 10 years than Paul or Peter.  Incidentally, Schuller said it would not disturb him to come back in 200 years and find his descendants Muslims.  That will never happen simply because he isn’t coming back.

Fuller Theological Seminary President speaks to Mormons.

In speaking to them in Salt Lake, Richard Moun apologized that evangelicals “have often misrepresented the faith and beliefs of the Latter Day Saints.  We evangelicals have sinned against you.”  Better think twice before you send your Preacher to a Fuller Church growth meeting.  Our preachers are attending in droves to Rick Warren, Jack Hayford and other such gurus  who espouse the Fuller attitude.  They invite in every hue of sectarianism to these Church growth meetings including Mormons.

TBN’s Paul CrouchThe charismatic Paul Crouch of TBN attempted to conceal the fact that he was gay by paying $425,000.00 to Laverne Ford who eventually exposed him.  Crouch also said, “I have come to the conviction that Martin Luther made a mistake, he should have never left the Catholic Church.  I am eradicating the word Protestant from my vocabulary.  I am not protesting anything.  It’s time for Catholics and Non-Catholics to come together as one in the spirit and one in the Lord.”  TBN is an apostate network that some of our men appear on for interviews.

Max Lucado

Max Lucado, the new darling of the North American Christian Convention, used to be a Church of Christ preacher.  In October, he changed the name of Oak Hills Church of Christ.  He dropped the “Church of Christ” name in an effort to reach people hesitant to attend a Church of Christ.  His Church jumped from 3,300 to 4,500 in 6 months.  At a Charismatic Promise Keepers rally he said, “It does not matter about your denomination, it’s all about God.”  Oak Hills has a booklet called, “

The Purpose of a Teaching Position

”.  It says,

“A teaching position serves to articulate the convictions of the Oak Hills leadership on a particular doctrine or practice.  This paper on the topic of baptism is useful for:

1.      

Those who have never been baptized.

 If you want to become a member of Oak Hills and have not been baptized, we ask you to do so.

2.      

Those who have been baptized

, but not by immersion.  We have many potential members who were baptized by sprinkling, usually as infants.  This paper will help you see why we baptize by immersion.  It also explains why we don’t baptize infants.  We urge you to read the paper and consider adult baptism.  If you choose not to be immersed at this time, we still welcome you as a member.  We ask only that you respect this position and not be divisive.  Members serving in instructional capacities (such as Bible class teachers, small group leaders, and ministry leaders, elders and staff ministers) need to be in agreement and compliance with the teaching position.

3.      

Those who have been baptized by immersion.

 It is our prayer that this study will give you new insights into the beauty, simplicity, and significance of this demonstration of devotion.

Open membership was the hottest debated issue in the Restoration Movement in the last century.  Today, the Brethren heading up our Colleges and conventions and camps have no conscience at all of bringing in apostates like Max Lucado, David Reagan and others of that persuasion.

Tony Compolo

They even bring in Tony Compolo, who even many denominational Churches will not use because of his stating that homosexuals were born that way.  He has socialist agendas.  He was brought to a heresy trial in 1985 for saying that Christ is in every human being. His wife promotes homosexual marriages.  He often uses vulgarisms in the pulpit to shock and shame his listeners.  His defense, “what’s worse, is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said [vulgarism] than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night!”  This was repeated at one of our schools.

John Hagee

John Hagee of TV fame believes that the spiritual gifts still continues today is getting a larger following.  He has raised thousands of dollars to move Jews to the Holy Land, uprooting Palestinian Christians in the process.  He believes Christians should have no duty to evangelize Jews since eventually.  “All Israel will be saved.”  He is a Christian Zionist.  He pals around with Benny Hinn and other Charismatic charlatans.  He is best known for his pushing of the Jewish agenda, thinking they have a spiritual relationship with God that will bring about their redemption without Christ but by living only in the light of the Torah.  He says,

“I’m not out to convert the Jewish people to the Christian faith.”  He adds, “In fact, trying to convert Jews is a waste of time.  The Jewish person who has his roots in Judaism is not going to convert to Christianity.  There is no form of Christian evangelism that has failed so miserably as evangelizing the Jewish people.  They (already) have a faith structure.  Everyone else, whether Buddhist or Baha’i, needs to believe in Jesus.  But not Jews.  Jews already have a covenant with God that has never been replaced by Christianity”.

Hagee is renown for taking on anti-Semetics but he is in reality, the true anti-Semetic for he will not evangelize the Jew and give them what they need for eternal salvation.

Rick Warren

Rich Warren, of “The Purpose Driven Church”, and “The Purpose Driven Life” fame has changed the Christian Churches and Churches of Christ more than any fad for the past century due to gullibility of our preachers.  He has been fellowshipping with John Templeton of the John Templeton Foundation.  Templeton awards a million dollars to different persons who further the cause of harmonizing world religions.  These have been awarded Agnostics, Pantheists, Hindu’s, Muslims, Buddhists, Jews as well as Billy Graham, Chuck Colson, Bill Bright, and Mother Teresa.

Is Rick after such?

Who knows?  Having sold millions of books, he certainly does not need the money.  He is now one of the judges for a written essay contest that Templeton is holding.  He will serve as judge in the contest with renowned left-wing radicals.

TV Attention Deficit DisorderPortland (Oregon) Life found that for every hour per day preschoolers watch TV, then chance of developing attention deficit disorders later in life has boosted 10%.  This is an alarming fact.  You need more than control.  Abstinence may be easier than temperance.

Billy GrahamRobert Schuller asked Billy Graham this question, “Tell me, what do you think is the future of Christianity?”

Graham’s reply was:

“Well, Christianity and being a true believer you know, I think there’s the Body of Christ.  This comes from all the Christian groups around the world.  Outside the Christian groups, I think everybody who knows Christ, whether they are conscious of it or not, they’re members of the Body of Christ.  I don’t think that we’re going to see a great sweeping revival that will turn the whole word to Christ at any time.  I think James answered that.  The Apostle James in the first council in Jerusalem, when he said that God’s purposes for this age is to call out a people for His name whether they come from the Muslim world, or the Buddhist world, or the Christian world, or the non-believing world, they are members of the Body of Christ, because they’ve been called by God.  They may not even know the name of Jesus, but they know in their hearts that they need something that they don’t have, and I think they turn to the only light they have, and I think that they are saved, and that they are going to be in heaven with us”  (Billy Graham, televised interview with Robert Schuller, May 13, 1997).

In response to Graham’s totally unscriptural statement, Schuller explained, “What, what I hear you saying is that it’s possible for Jesus Christ to come into human hearts and soul and life even if they’ve been born in darkness and never had an exposure to the Bible.  Is that a correct interpretation of what you are saying?”Graham answered, “Yes, it is because I believe that.  I’ve met people in various parts of the world in tribal situations, that they have never seen a Bible or heard about a Bible, and never heard of Jesus, but they’ve believed in their hearts that there was a God, and they’ve tried to live a life that was quite apart from the surrounding community in which they lived.”  This was 1997.  But even as far back as 1961 Graham said of infant baptism,

“ I have some difficulty in accepting the indiscriminate baptism of infants without a careful regard as to whether the parents have any intention of fulfilling the promise they make.  But I do believe that something happens at the baptism of an infant, particularly if the parents are Christians and teach their children Christian truths from childhood.  We cannot fully understand the miracles of God, but I believe that a miracle can happen in these children so that they are regenerated, that is, made Christians, through infant baptism.  If you want to call that baptismal regeneration, that’s all right with me.”  

(Lutheran Standard October 10

th

, 1961)

Graham has for years turned over the names of those who came forward at his rallies to the Churches from which they came.  In 1957 Graham said, “Anyone who makes a decision at our meetings is seen later and referred to local clergymen, Protestant, Catholic or Jewish.”  (San Francisco news)

Yet many of our top leaders in our own Churches appear with Graham and support his crusades...SHAME!

“KINSEY” Movie,

You need to know that Alfred Kinsey, the hero of the movie, was a pervert, pedophile, wife swapper, bi-sexual and the one who deceived America with his false

Kinsey Report

.  He is the one who made up the lie that 10% of Americans are homosexual.  He used for his own survey prison inmates and prostitutes.  He made his staff perform lewd sex acts on film.  He employed no trained statistician.  He himself should have been imprisoned as a pedophile.  The American Legislative Exchange Council (2400 State Legislators) recently concluded the

Kinsey Report

was “illegal and criminal acts masquerading as science.”  See proof of all this in a book by Judith Rusmar and another by Susan Brinkmann or contact the eagleforum.org website.

The above news information has been gleaned from

The Calvary Contender

,

The Sword of the Lord

,

O Timothy

,

Christian News

,

The Eagle Forum

, and

The Way of Life

magazines.  These groups do a great service in marking those who teach contrary to what the Christian has learned from the Holy Apostles.

#read more at steve-finnell.blogspot.com