#I have read it and heard a voice that was distinctly not my own

[tgirlsaintlawrence]

St. Paul’s letters have good conclusions but bad logic. This is evidence of how the Holy Spirit guided his writing.

#to be clear I am a heretic on this #I believe that there is a significant difference in authority that the different sections of books in the Bible have #so for example #the gospels acts and revelations are the most important to Christian teaching #then are the epistles of St. Paul #and I treat these not as being the final word #but as early and most likely the intended interpretations and commentary on them #they are the Angel we have to wrestle with #same goes for the non-Pauline letters but with even less authority #the Old Testament tells us who God is and what he has done #sometimes he’s an asshole. sometimes he’s a really nice guy. depends on the day #I think becoming human really helped with that #the apocrypha I take with a pinch of salt #I also include Shepherd of Simion with my apocrypha #I have confused feelings about the Qu’ran #I have read it and heard a voice that was distinctly not my own #and it was speaking Arabic but I understood it somehow #and instinctively I knew it was my grandfathers #and I was sober #so…

[dancingbirdie]

Hello there! I adore your fics and how you wrote Astarion! I was hoping you could write something around the succubus scene? I know you get comforted by Astarion later on in the game regarding it, but due to his own trauma and backstory I would have liked to see him stand up for Tav and protect them during that scene itself, instead of just standing by while Tav is being manipulated 🙈

If you could do something around that, it would heal me! 😂🙏

Hi, anon! I hope you enjoy. I really liked your prompt, but I'll admit it did get a bit darker than I had originally thought I'd write it.

Please take note of the content warnings before you read! As always, comments and reacts are appreciated.

No Self-Sacrifices

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader/Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Discussion/description of dissociation, implied sexual assault, mentions of Astarion's past, descriptions of violence, blood, mild gore, death, angst.

*****

“Why don’t we play a game?” the Raphael-look-alike called to you seductively from the ridiculously lavish bed. “You win, I give you everything you desire. But you’ll enjoy yourself more if you lose.”

Astarion began to sense that all too familiar, uneasy feeling coiling itself tight inside his chest. The premonition that something was about to go utterly, horribly wrong. He risked a glance toward your allies, Lae’zel and Halsin, but they appeared just as woefully confused as you did. As if you all weren’t aware of the trap you’d just walked into. 

“What’s the game?” he heard you ask. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

“It’s a surprise! Off with your clothes,” the devil commanded.

There could be no doubt as to what would take place. Surely, Astarion thought, none of his companions could be so blind as to not see what was about to happen. 

Astarion watched as you bit your lip, hesitating. How you looked wildly about the room, as if you were searching for any last-minute way to avoid this. With his preternatural senses, he couldn’t help but be aware of how your heart rate spiked to a frenzied pulsing as you stood there, terrified of what was to come. 

He watched in horror as your shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. Defeated. Resolving to go through with this. And as you began removing your clothes, his vision turned nearly as red as the fiend on the mattress before you. 

“Good, little thief, good,” the monster crooned, totally unaware of Astarion’s brewing rage. “Keep going like this, and you’ll get to live. You’ll be crying out my name soon, you’d better know it. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s personal incubus…” 

The incubus - Haarlep - prattled on while Astarion continued to seethe with barely-contained fury. His fingers twitched, itching – almost of their own accord – to reach for the crossbow strapped to his back. He began shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, restless. He caught the glare Lae’zel was leveling at him from his periphery and turned his head slightly to meet it. 

She gave a slight, but obvious, shake of the head. A silent command to stand down. Then he felt the tadpole squirm in his brain, while a voice that was distinctly Lae’zel’s echoed in his mind. 

Don’t act rashly, vampire. We need to gather more information before we strike.

Astarion nearly laughed aloud. The audacity of this Githyanki, willing to let her comrade be violated in such a way. After all they had done for her. For this party. And yet, part of him knew he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he had known plenty of “heroes” who had let equally horrible fates befall others without so much as lifting a finger to help them. 

“It matters not to me.” Your deadened reply to Haarlep brought Astarion back to the present moment. He recognized that tone of voice. Knew when someone was trying to dissociate. To disconnect their mind from their body. He knew all too well what that feeling was like. And it was nearly as horrible to watch as it was to experience it for himself.

“Very well, I will be Raphael himself,” Haarlep continued. “All of him. Now, on the bed. Lie back.” 

Astarion made his decision when he saw you begin to take stilted steps toward the bed. Covering yourself with your hands, trying to maintain some modicum of modesty as you climbed up. 

With Haarlep’s attention solely on you, he reached behind him for the crossbow. His index finger felt for the trigger as he pulled it around before him. One swift flick, and an arrow was suddenly lodged in the incubus’ left pectoral.

Chaos erupted as imps suddenly appeared throughout the room, responding to Haarlep’s distressed cry. You toppled off the bed, head knocking onto the floor, as the fiend raged above you, trying to right themselves and extract the arrow from their chest. 

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel cursed in Gith, hefting her sword over her shoulder and barreling toward the first enemy in sight. “To battle it is, then!” 

Halsin shifted quickly into his bear shape and let loose a formidable roar, charging for another group of imps across the room. 

But Astarion only had eyes for Haarlep. He stalked slowly toward the bed, unsheathing the twin blades from his back as he did so. 

You watched as he gave one brief, wicked smile before utter carnage ensued.

*****

“Kainyak! Your foolishness nearly cost us all our lives,” Lae’zel spat venomously toward Astarion while she wiped her blade free of the fetid black imp blood. “I should strike you down now for acting with such stupidity.”

To his credit, Astarion barely seemed to acknowledge the Githyanki’s formidable censuring. You watched as he slipped his daggers back into the sheaths at the small of his back and readjusted his armor. He picked up his crossbow and shook it free of blood before strapping it back between his shoulder blades.

“You still have all your limbs intact, Lae’zel,” he replied airly. It was a stark contrast to the way he was standing, body as taut as a bowstring. “And wasn’t that bloodshed so much more satisfying than watching the incubus violate our dear party leader?” 

Lae’zel’s mouth snapped shut, but she continued to glare. The vampire had a point, though she was loath to admit it. 

“I, for one, prefer this outcome to the alternative that was before us,” Halsin agreed, rising from where he had been crouched after dismissing his ursine form. He glanced your way but averted his eyes quickly, to your confusion. 

“Best get dressed, darling,” Astarion drawled, coming over to where you still lay prone on the floor. “As delicious as I find your birthday suit to be, I’d wager you’ll fare better in this wretched place with a little more clothing on.” 

He held out a hand to help you rise to your feet. You observed him cautiously, trying to discern the emotion behind his carefully schooled expression. 

“Why?” you whispered. 

He squinted at you, one brow quirked. “Are you seriously asking me why armor is prudent to have on, in a place like this?” He chuckled before adding, “gods, you must’ve smacked your head harder than I thought.”

“No,” you retorted, refusing to be deterred by his cheeky banter. “I mean, why did you attack Haarlep? You’re never one to be spoiling for a fight.”

Astarion scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest as if insulted. “Careful, darling. You’re almost making me out to be a pacifist.”

“You know what I meant, Astarion,” you grumbled as you began donning your leather breeches and jerkin. 

“And would you have preferred to be fucked by that incubus instead?” Astarion bit out derisively. 

Your head whipped up to meet his gaze, hearing the sudden change in his tone. 

“Of course not,” you scowled. “But you could sense how powerful they were. It seemed like the only way to ensure your all’s safety.”

Astarion grimaced. “So you would have just laid down and taken it? For us?”

“I’m not saying I would have enjoyed it,” you hissed. “But to keep you safe? Keep them safe?” you gestured to Lae’zel and Halsin across the room, polishing and re-polishing their weapons as they attempted not to overhear your barely-whispered argument. 

“Of course,” you concluded, voice resolute. 

“Don’t be a fucking martyr. Not for me. Not for them. Not for anyone,” Astarion growled. 

Your brows shot toward your hairline in surprise. 

“We know what we signed up for when we joined this rag-tag group,” he continued, tone icy. “I’d rather fight a hundred fiends than watch you debase yourself to save anyone, including myself.” 

You let loose a mirthless laugh, feeling angry, embarrassed and too completely exposed. Before you could think better of it, your retort was flying past your lips. 

“You know, Astarion, you have a fucking funny way of showing appreciation for your partner who was willing to be violated in order to keep you safe.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. You immediately knew it, and so did the rest of the party. Suddenly it was like the air had been sucked from the room. 

Crimson eyes bored into your own as Astarion took a step forward to meet you, chest to chest. You glared up at him, refusing to back down. Refusing to be chastised for your willingness to protect him. 

The shared air between you was charged. You could almost feel the electricity surging. 

“Need I remind you? I’ve been violated enough times over the past 200 years to know how unequivocally monstrous it is,” he intoned, his voice pitched dangerously low. “I will promise you this. I am finished with having it happen to me, in front of me, or for me.”

Words escaped you. It was all you could do to maintain eye contact with him, feeling the conviction in his tone. The anger that had sustained you up until this point had all but disappeared. In its place was something far more demure. 

“So yes, I fired the first shot that pierced that devil’s skin. Then I eviscerated their neck with my teeth,” he crooned, reverently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You shivered at his touch, at his dulcet tone that was describing such violence. 

“And I slit his throat with glee,” he continued, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I would do it again. And again. And again. Because I will never witness abuse like what was about to happen, ever again.”

He swept the pad of his thumb over the hollow under your eye, his gaze flicking rapidly over your face. As though he were subconsciously checking you over for any nicks, cuts, or bruises. 

“Do you understand?” he whispered softly. His voice was still laced with rage, but you could tell it was not directed toward you. Really, it never had been. 

The entire situation had obviously touched the most sensitive pressure point within him. Had triggered his urge to fight, to protect, to resist. You couldn’t be angry with him for that. Never. Not one bit. 

You gulped before nodding slightly. “I understand now. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your hand to cover his where it was still cupping your face. Turning slightly, you planted a kiss against his palm. 

“No self-sacrificing on my watch, darling, agreed?” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around your waist in a solid embrace. 

“Agreed,” you confirmed, returning his embrace before venturing on through the House of Hope.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion fic #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x f!reader #tav x astarion #astarion my beloved #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[blackleatherjacketz]

John

Homelander x Female Reader

Summary: Homelander gets jealous when you take a new lover with the same name as him, and makes sure you remember who you belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only! Mature/Explicit Content, Dark Themes, Homelander Should Be His Own Warning! Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Stalking, Obsessive Homelander, Jealousy, Threatening, Choking, Intimidation, Dubious Consent, Fear Kink, Breaking and Entering, Kissing, Possessive Homelander Ripping Your Clothes Off, Vaginal Sex, Hate Fucking

Word Count: 2k+

Read more HOMELANDER

A cool and sudden breeze blows in from the hallway as you finish brushing your teeth, telling that you somehow forgot to close a window even though you distinctly remember checking each and every one. You wipe your mouth and grab the heaviest item closest to you, a large cylindrical Virgin Mary candle as you reluctantly venture out into your bedroom, scanning it for intruders before padding out into your dimly lit living room.

“I hope you don’t plan on hitting me over the head with that thing.” His familiar voice booms in your chest as he closes your balcony door very slowly before confidently stepping toward you. “Because that really wouldn’t work out well for you.”

“Homelander,” you greet him shakily, his tone making you unsure if him being here is better or worse than having a robber break into your apartment. “What are you…” you swallow hard as you still grip onto the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” He smiles at you with malicious intent, the rage in his eyes barely contained by the false upturn of his lips. “Can’t I visit my best girl whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want?” You whisper back to him, still in shock that he’s come to visit you after all this time. It had almost been a year since he first saved you from that falling car, since he found out where you lived just to ‘check up on his favorite citizen’ in the middle of the night. It seemed like forever since he last soaked your sheets with his sweat, thrusting the gratitude right out of your body through sordid moans and needy gasps night after night for weeks on end.

But you were always ready to accept the fact that each deliciously torrid encounter you had with him could very well be your last, that someone like him could easily grow tired of someone like you… until that possibility finally became a reality. You figured that another woman had simply taken your place as his visits began to wax and wane, that someone younger or thinner had occupied his time and satisfied his needs better than you ever could. So when weeks had gone by without a sign or whisper of his presence, you decided that it was time to move on.

“Homelander, this is… you haven’t been here in ages. I thought that you…” You barely manage to stammer in your stunned state, his presence alone forcing your hormones to start coursing through your bloodstream.

“You thought, what, exactly? Hmm? That you could just move on with someone else because I was busy keeping you and the American people safe?” He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as a disappointed sigh brews in his chest, morphing into a desperate laugh. “That you could just forget about me?”

Uh-oh.

The skin on your face and neck starts to warm up with that exquisite concoction of fear and arousal he always seems to draw out of you. You wish you could control how he made you feel, that there was some version of you, somewhere, that could resist him, but that was all part of his charm, now wasn’t it?

“Lose the candle, princess.” His tone is more serious than it’s ever been with you before, dipping down to a dark timbre you’ve only ever heard him use with his enemies.

“Yup.” You do as you’re told and loosen your grip on the candle without another thought, nearly dropping it onto one of your toes as it hits the floor with a dull thud.

“And you with a fucking investment banker of all people? I mean, really?” He scoffs, taking his time walking around your living room as he puffs up his chest. “I would have thought that you were better than that.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch his boots bend the hard wood of your floors, hammering home the heavy weight of the situation that you weren’t nearly as awake for as you needed to be.

“John,” you try to console him, taking a few cautious steps forward with an outstretched arm.

“John,” he repeats in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows. He chuckles to himself again, picking up one of the pillows on your couch before running his gloved hand over the crushed velvet. “The fact that you chose someone with the same first name as me is really fucking telling, you know that? If you missed me that much, you could have just called.”

“And just how am I supposed to do that? Huh? You made sure I couldn’t call you when you left here without a trace.” You cross your arms over your chest as he puts the pillow back down, reminding him of how he left things.

“Don’t you put this on me!” He bares his teeth as his eyes glow red, pointing a finger at you before that warm hue quickly subsides.

Holy shit, you’re in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” you try.

“You’re sorry?” He smiles as if to shake off any real emotions he may have about the situation, tying your stomach into knots in the process as you try to keep up with his ever changing moods. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it was for me to hear you screaming that name when I wasn’t the one inside you?”

Your heart falls out of your chest, sinking down to the very pit of your stomach as his words hit your ears, weighing you down so that you can barely move. You had no idea that he cared that much about you, that he would even think to drop by after being away for so long. But why did he have to wait? Why did he have to hear…?

“I was going to visit you that night, but he was already here.” He spits, pointing to the doorway behind you. “In your bedroom of all places!” He takes a few more careful steps toward you, his eyes now burning his usual fiery blue. “It took everything I had not to destroy the both of you right then and there, but lucky for you, I’ve been working on my impulse control.”

All you can do is stare at him, lips trembling, unable to think of anything to say that won’t make him more angry than he already is. You swallow hard, quaking in silence as he advances on you, his jaw clenching in anger before he dared to speak again.

“You know, you really should have heard him beg for his life when I dangled him from the top of the Empire State Building.” He smiles so wide that the skin around his eyes begins to wrinkle, his canines appearing as fangs against his lips. “He even pissed himself before I dropped him from that high up. Pathetic, really. Load of good that big dick is now, huh?”

FUCK! What did he just say?

So that’s why the other John hasn’t called you in a few weeks; he wasn’t ignoring you at all, he was just… he was gone. You can only imagine how scared and confused he must have been as Homelander flew him up into the night sky one last time, the cool December wind biting at his cheeks. That is until he undoubtedly told him why he was doing it, because if you know anything about Homelander, you know that he made damn sure your former lover knew exactly why he was sending him to his death.

Homelander stops just short of your bare feet, towering over you as he places his gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard before smoothing it up to your neck. He grins as he tightens his grip, leaning in close enough to whisper into your ear as he lets you think through the worst case scenario. “Now I don’t have to share you with anyone else anymore.”

You know that you should be appalled at what he’s telling you, that you should be absolutely sick to your stomach with fear and disgust, but fight and flight won’t do you any good against the most powerful man in the entire world. You’ve heard horror stories of those who have tried before you and failed, deciding in a split second to lean on your most trusted coping mechanism: fawn.

“You killed him… for me?” You lean into the idea of him being so obsessed with you that he couldn’t stand to have another man touch you in his absence; that you’ve haunted him well past the time since he left.

He pulls back to glare at you, surprised that you’re not more shocked about the news as his features shift from menacing to intrigue. For the first time since you’ve known him, The Homelander is speechless. You try to focus on the scent of his cologne as it swims through your nostrils, exciting every nerve in your body just like it used to as his thumb grazes over your windpipe, subtly threatening to end you right here and now as his eyes dart over your face.

“You sick fuck!” He whispers adoringly, grinning from ear to ear as he scans your vital signs for any biological tell of deceit. Unable to decipher the difference between the intertwined terror and excitement coursing its way through your body, he takes the hem of your t-shirt between his fingers, gathering the fabric together in his palm before quickly ripping it off your torso. “I knew you were just like me from the very first second I saw you. I could tell that you were different from everyone else, that you were special.”

He brushes his palm over your breasts, intently watching your nipples harden against the leather of his glove as he hungrily surveys every curve of your body. A look you know all too well paints his features with desire as he pushes you backward against the wall, the exposed brick cutting into the bare skin of your shoulder blades as you let out a surprised grunt. He chuckles before kissing your lips with a newfound intensity, his breath hitching into a needy moan as he tugs your underwear down your thighs, nipping at your bottom lip before ripping your panties off just as easily as he had your shirt.

All that anger and jealousy makes him take you that much quicker and harder than he ever had before, his superhuman girth stretching you to capacity before you can even blink. He glides inside your soaking wet walls in one fluid motion, making you forget about the other John entirely as he thrusts up into you with unmatched desperation.

“You’re mine,” he whispers before grasping onto your thighs, lifting them up around his waist so he can push even deeper inside. “From now on, you only fuck me! Got it?”

“Got it!” You cross your legs around his back, your feet getting caught in his cape as he bites his words into your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth until it nearly breaks against his tongue. You groan in ecstasy and run your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he latches onto you like a vampire, draining you of your very life force all while driving waves of delight through your viscera.

He continues sucking as many bruises onto your throat as possible, marking you as his for everyone else to see as he hits that precious bundle of nerves tucked away up inside you. His moans become more frequent as his needy, throbbing member brushes against your cervix with each tantalizing pass, shooting an electric tingling sensation up your spine and into the rest of your body. Every single thrust up into you seems to be fueled by his hatred for you and this situation; that palpable ferocity tainting your carnal reunion with just enough force to send you shaking and shivering over the edge just a little earlier than you expected.

“John!” You whimper as he drills each vengeful burst of pleasure up into your core, setting your skin on fire as you violently convulse around him.

“No,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, pressing his thumb into your deepest bruise as he glares at you with sweat dripping down his forehead. “You call me Homelander from now on.”

#homelander #the homelander #homelander x reader #antony starr #homelander x female reader #the boys #the boyz tv #homelander fanfiction

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Cut

Pairing: Soft Dark! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Kink Prompt: Cut [Knife play]

Word Count: 1,944

Summary: You haven’t been having the best luck on dating apps, but you’re willing to try again. 

Warnings: AU: Dark, Noncon, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive Behavior, Knife play, Marking, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: i’m super excited to share this one with you all, i had a lot of fun fulfilling the brief. hoping you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! divider by @firefly-graphics​

Your date’s eyes flick up over your right shoulder for the umpteenth time that night, a spark of nervousness growing in them. 

 “What’s wrong?” You ask, a small but reassuring smile on your lips. You turn around, but there isn’t anything out of place at the restaurant. The tables surrounding you are all full of people laughing and chatting amicably, not one of them paying attention to either of you. “See someone you know?” You joke, but Phil’s responding laughter is hollow and anxious sounding. 

 “No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I just thought—you know what? Never mind.” Phil dives back into the conversation full force, asking you about your likes and dislikes, your family and friends, your dating history. “No boyfriends I should know about?” He leans forward, and you get the impression that this light-hearted joke somehow isn’t light-hearted at all. 

 “No.” You say with a short laugh. “Why would I be on Tingle looking for a boyfriend if I had a boyfriend?” You take a sip of your wine as Phil chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 

 “No, totally, of course. I’ve just, you know. Heard some real horror stories on 6Space.”

 “Hah, yeah,” you say, thinking of your latest string of failed dates. “Horror stories.”

 “You have some of your own, I take it?”

 You heave a sigh, downing another generous sip of your wine. You shift a little in your seat, thinking uncomfortably of the last date you’d been on. James—Bucky, he wanted you to call him Bucky—was nice, but… intense. His charm and passion had been underscored unpleasantly by a deep, aching need, one you didn’t—and still don’t—think you’re qualified to fill. 

 “I guess you could say that.” Going back to Bucky’s place with him had been a mistake. One that left you weak and sore for days afterward, and you’d swiftly blocked his number before re-installing the dating app last week.  

 You’re just perfect, doll, you know that? Fucking sweet and tight and all mine, isn’t that right?

 The entrees come without issue, and you eat half of your falafel before you’re tapping out. “I love this place, but the portion sizes,” you complain lightheartedly, and Phil laughs, nodding in agreement. 

 “Let me get it,” he says, grabbing for the bill. You watch Phil pat his pockets, his expression turning worried as he searches. “What the f—Okay, I totally had my wallet before I went to the bathroom.” He rises from the table and flags down a waiter. “Has anyone found a wallet? I can’t seem to find mine.” 

 “I’ll check with the host.” 

 He sits back down, cheeks red with embarassment. “This never happens,” he says, laughing nervously. “Can I, um. I can Cash-mo you, if that’s okay.” 

 You place your own card in the book, nodding. “Of course.” The waiter swings back by to grab it, and shakes his head apologetically at Phil. He swipes your card through the reader while Phil mutters that maybe he left it in the taxi, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You tuck your copy of the receipt into your purse and stand.

 “So um. I was thinking, maybe we could get a drink at my place?” Phil asks, a distinctly unattractive pleading note in his voice. “No pressure for anything else, of course, and—”

 “You know what, Phil? I think I’m going to call it a night.” You offer him a tired smile, one you hope masks your dissatisfaction with the date. “But maybe we can hang out again?” The offer is a false one, made to round off the hard edge of your rejection. Phil deflates. 

 “Y-yeah. Of course,” he replies defeatedly, irritation setting itself in the displeased curl of his lip. “Another time.”

 The walk back to your apartment is dreary, made all the worse by the cold drizzle and your own bad mood. Your fat orange tabby greets you at the door, yowling hungrily as he winds his way around your legs. You kick off your damp heels by the door, rocking gratefully on the balls of your feet. You reach down to pick up the cat, and he twists in your arms to butt his head against your face. 

 “I don’t know, Oliver,” you sigh, picking your way over the pile of your shoes by the front door. “Maybe this dating thing isn’t for me.” He chirrups in your arms, kneading you through your clothes as you head for the kitchen, intent on feeding him. 

 “Probably not. You strike me as a one-man kinda gal.” 

 “Fuck!” You shriek, dropping a yowling Oliver as you turn to stare fearfully into your darkened living room. You squint, feeling around in your purse for the little canister of mace you keep there. The outline of a figure—tall, broad shouldered—folds his arms across his chest, and steps a little closer to the light. Your mouth drops open with shock. 

 “Bucky?” You glance at the door and then back at him. “W-what are you doing here?” He cards a hand through his dark hair, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip as he contemplates his answer. His slate blue eyes catch the light as they fall on your face. 

 “I wanted to see you.” His mouth twists. “But you weren’t here.” You swallow, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You don’t know how he got in without breaking your lock or a window—and furthermore, you don’t remember ever giving him your address.

 “I-I think you should leave.” He doesn’t respond, watching you silently with an expression you can’t accurately read. “M-Maybe we can hang out—”

 “Another time?” He says dryly, raising an eyebrow at you. “You use that line a lot, doll.” 

 “You’ve been watching me,” you say accusatorially, but Bucky only shrugs. 

 “A guy’s got to keep an eye on his best girl.” You hear the snikt of a knife sliding open, and you heart leaps into your throat as the blade gleams in the darkness. “I made you feel good, didn’t I, doll?” He asks, flipping the knife and catching it by the handle with his metal hand. When you don’t answer, he scowls. “Please, sweetheart, I’m talking to you.” 

 “Y-yes.” You croak, flinching as he steps closer. You’re pressed against the wall with fear, unable to look away from the cruelly curved blade in his hand. You try to inch along the wall, matching him step for step—but his hand crashes against the wall beside your head, trapping you. He turns the knife in his other hand, a look of consideration on his face. You can’t look away from it, your eyes jumping between his distracted gaze and the blade.

 “You know,” he says, spinning it around one finger before catching it by the hilt, “it really hurt my feelings when you didn’t call, Sweetheart.” The breath in your throat escapes in a shrill little squeal as he slides the flat of it against your bare arm. His eyes flick up to yours. “I really liked you.”

 “B-Bucky I—”

 “You blocked me.” 

 “You scared me,” you whimper. He drags the blunt side of the knife down your arm and goosebumps spring up in its wake. “W-we’d been on one date, a-and you were talking rings and marriage, it-it was—”

 “So knowing what I want’s a bad thing, now?” There’s a subtle note of accusation in his voice that you don’t miss. “You know, years I had other people in my head.” The knife reaches your wrist, and he turns it, pressing the edge against your pulse point before dragging it back up. “Telling me what I wanted. What to do.” You flinch as he presses the tip against your chest, just above the collar of your dress. He drags it down, and it slices through the chiffon of your dress like butter, parting the layers in a straight line until it falls off of you. 

 “I don’t understand,” he says softly. He cups your chin with one hand, all while he draws shapes on your belly with the tip of the knife. “Didn’t I make you feel good?” You feel each pass with crystal clarity, shivering as your  nipples tighten from the cool air. Bucky sees it, licking his lips as he flicks his thumb across the tip of one, following it with the blade. 

 “Yes.” You’re afraid to move, to breathe. He draws the tip over the curve of your breast, tracing it down your side and hooking it beneath the elastic of your panties. It snaps against your skin, and you wince. He sighs, tracing it over your hip. The knife is so sharp that it doesn’t even hurt as your skin splits when he applies the tiniest bit more pressure, your blood welling up on the blade.

 “I want you to understand, doll.” His voice is eerily calm. He swipes his thumb up the flat of the knife, collecting the thin line of crimson on his finger before popping it into his mouth. “You’re it for me.” The tip of the knife presses dangerously into the fleshy curve of your thigh, but Bucky pulls it away before it can break the skin. You gasp as he cups you with his flesh hand, parting the cleft lips of your cunt with thick, practiced fingers. He chuckles pulling his fingers from between your thighs to show you the wetness at their tips. Your stomach curdles with shame as he flashes his teeth in a triumphant grin. 

 “Knew you liked me, doll.” The knife-tip leaves your skin tingling and oversensitive as you strain to feel where next it’ll touch down. You stare up at him with glassy, disbelieving eyes as he reaches back down to thumb at your clit, his other hand drawing oblong shapes with the knife. Down, over the curve of your belly, over your hip, tracing the side of your face—he doesn’t stop. There’s nowhere for you to go, pressed against the wall with Bucky’s body blocking you in, nowhere to hide from the sensation of his fingers twisting in your core and the sharp silver blade leaving trails on your flesh. 

 “G-God, Bucky s-stop—” The rest of your plea dissolves on your tongue as your body jackknifes, hot currents of electricity washing away conscious thought. His voice is dark in your ear, egging you on as you convulse in his arms. 

 “Good girl, doll, so good,” he coos, the stubble on his cheek rasping against your own as he nuzzles you. “So pretty when you cum, baby. Could watch it all goddamn day.” He pulls his drenched fingers from your core with an embarrassingly slick noise. Your knees are trembling, barely holding you up, so it’s no task for Bucky to sweep them out from under you, cradling you to his chest as he walks toward the bedroom. 

 He lays you across the bed with surprising gentleness, and then kneels on the floor by the foot of it. Your legs are dangling over the edge, but not for long before Bucky rests them on his shoulders. His breath puffs against your slick, sensitive folds. You whimper as the tip of the knife presses into your hip again, and even with it’s wicked sharpness, you feel the blade bite into your flesh. You writhe, whimpering, and Bucky hushes you gently. He leans forward to lave a wet, sloppy kiss against your cunt.

 “Stay still, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel him bear down on the knife again, drawing a straight line, and then a curve. “Don’t wanna mess up my initials.” 

 fin

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library​​ for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

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[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 4

Just a shorter one today as I've been a smudge busy, but here's day 4! Shortfic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 4 - The rest of the companions heard Tav/Durge going at it

“Tchk, do they not know the whole woods can hear them?” Lae’zel winced at the latest echo of a moan from the trees, trying to focus on sharpening her blade without slicing through her own finger in the process.

Gale tried in vain to stare harder at his book, as if reading the words loud enough in his head might drown them out. “Don’t look at me, I’m all out of paper to scribe out Zone of Silence for them. You’d think they might make the effort to learn one bloody spell so we can get a night’s sleep-”  

“Was that a tree breaking? Gods I hope they’re not bringing the place down around them.” Wyll looked as concerned as he was flustered, sorting through the supplies in his pack like it was the most interesting task in the world. “What I’d do for a house with some thick walls right now.” 

“I think it’s cute.” Karlach grinned, her heart glowing slightly. “At least someone is getting some action around here.” 

“If they don’t stop getting action I shall be asking Lady Shar to wipe these memories from my head too.” Shadowheart groaned, standing to walk back to her tent. “I’m going to at least try to get some sleep, I suggest you all do the same. You know they’re all elves, right?” 

“Ah of course, Halsin, Astarion, our fearless leader,” Gale’s words were punctuated by a distinctly loud cry from the aforementioned leader that anyone else might’ve mistaken for distress. “They’ll get just as much rest from their trance as we could be getting if it wasn’t too loud to sleep.” He directed his grumble to the treeline, as if the foliage might pass on his displeasure at the disturbance. 

“Do you think they’d notice if I-”

“Karlach, sit back down, you are not going out there to spy on them.” Wyll put a hand on her elbow, pulling her back down to sit beside him.

“I wasn’t going to ask if I could join in or anything.” She complained. “You never let me have any fun.” 

“I would hardly describe being an unwelcome pair of eyes to the affairs of those three as fun, istik.” Lae’zel put her sword aside, satisfied it would be sharp enough to deal with any enemies in the morning. “You should follow the secretive one’s lead and get some sleep, our foes will not hesitate to slice open your gut should you pause to yawn.” 

“That…does not paint a particularly pleasant picture.” Gale closed his book, standing to return to his tent, resolving himself to cast silence on himself once he got there. “Remind me not to ask for any Githyanki bedtime stories next time we’re around the fire this late.”

“I don’t think the Gith even do bedtime stories.” Wyll shrugged, looking towards Lae’zel’s tent.

“We do, actually, and a simple gut-stabbing would be considered too weak even for a helpless babe.” Her voice hissed from behind the canvas. With everyone else gone, Wyll and Karlach lingered a little longer by the fire, sharing a quiet laugh at the idea of Lae’zel as a toddler with an oversized sword complaining that her bedtime stories weren’t gory enough. 

“What about you, Karlach? Any fairytales, or at least good stories until we get peace enough to rest?” The warlock’s smile was disarming as usual. “I’m afraid all I can offer are the worn out classics, and they don’t seem to hold the same charm as they used to. Hard to imagine a dashing prince running off to play the hero and sweep a fair maiden off her feet when I look like this.”

“I don’t know, you look princely enough to me. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve spent years in Avernus surrounded by actual bloody demons, either.” She shuffled a little, her restless tail and glowing chest betraying her thoughts as usual. “The stories I have in my head now aren’t really suitable for children at bedtime.” 

“Lucky for us, we aren’t children.” Wyll sidled just a little closer, looking up at bright eyes that widened as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I might not have a coin to hand to give you, but I would love to hear your thoughts.”

#bg3ficfeb #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #wyll ravengard #karlach #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #Halsin #Astarion #bg3 companions #shortfic

[that-ari-blogger]

Simple Answers

Who is Luz Noceda?

If I was to ask you this question after only seeing a scene or two from the Owl House, your answer would probably be very different to if you had watched the entire series.

This isn't groundbreaking, it's what happens when you spend time around any person or character, they start to appear more complex to you as you get to know them more.

But that's kind of the point here, because the Owl House is a series about embracing your weirdness and individuality in contrast to first impressions. A single question like "who is x person" is inadequate, and others should be added to understand the nuance there.

The First Day asks two more questions. "Who does everyone else think Luz is?" and "Who does Luz herself think she is?"

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The Owl House has a thing for introductions. Luz gets so many over the course of the series, and it's fascinating to see how she changes just by the way in which she gives her title. She is the good witch, or the human, or hero, whatever she decides.

The opening scene to The First Day is interesting to me, because it's an audition. Luz is being asked to present her skills, but I don't think that's what she is being tested on.

"Spells cast with paper, I've never heard of such a thing. But is it enough to pass the exam?"

Bump deliberately leans into the theatricality here, messing with Luz's confidence to see what she does. The series has established that all Luz needs to do to pass the exam is cast two spells, so why is there a stage? And why does Bump ask this question?

Because Bump wants to know who Luz is. His first impression of her has been a troublemaker, and he has seen some skill, but what else? He wants is to see how she reacts to stress, is she resourceful? Is she imaginative? In my reading, Luz had already passed the test and Bump wanted to know more about the student.

This is an episode about breaking moulds and meeting expectations, and so we are introduced to the primary conflict of the episode, that being the track system. Students can only learn one kind of magic, or they are branded as troublemakers and can't learn magic at all. You have to colour within the lines, and make what kind of art will get points.

That works backwards into the test as well. Where at first glance, it is a test about skill, it is actually more complex, just like the students undertaking it.

The school is also trying to appeal to a perception as well, with the inspector. The school only shows its best and brightest, who have achieved exactly the point of their classes. This is what the school teaches, isn't it so perfect?

The basilisk scene is also interesting on a side note because it is why I like Bump so much. For all of his flaws, the second there is a student in danger, Bump interposes himself between the student and that danger. It doesn't work, but it's an attempt, and it kind of foreshadows later on in the episode, which I will get to in a bit.

If you are studying creative writing at a High School level, you have probably been told that first impressions are everything. You need to introduce your characters well, you need to open in the action, or with a question. And this isn't wrong, I literally opened this post with a question to grab your attention.

But if you are familiar with my blog, you will probably have guessed that I take issue with this advice. Write a story how you like, it doesn't have to be good, you just have to tell it. There are rules of art, yes, but they are more like guidelines, and often the way you make something incredible is by doing your own thing. Maybe what you want coincides with the rules, maybe it doesn't. It's art, do what you want.

I can't speak for other countries, but the Australian system for teaching literary studies is seriously lacking. You get told themes to analyse your texts with, instead of forming your own reasoning. I distinctly remember a teacher telling me that "your personal voice will be shown by how you write what the HSC wants." And this is understandable as a system. It's not agreeable, but I understand why it is what it is. The HSC is designed for evaluating thousands of students quickly and efficiently. It doesn't do personability because it can't.

This carries over into creative writing. If you want to do well in that area, you need to write from your own experience. The story has to open with action. It needs to be realism, so no weird fantastical elements. The marker needs to be able to check of elements of the story. It is draconian, but from what I have heard, it is somehow a more efficient system to certain other countries.

So, why am I ranting about school? Because The Owl House is a fantasy, and the fantasy it is exploring is "what if you could change the system?" And part of that is Bump, because Bump is a character who fundamentally has the students' best interests at heart. So when he clocks on to the system being unsuited, he changes it.

"I'm smart enough to know when I'm wrong"

But perceptions go both ways, and Luz has spent the series so far battling her own preconceived notions about what the story is about. When she enters the detention track, she immediately dismisses it as boring and that comes back to bite her later.

Viney keeps coming up when people mention first impressions, and I will mention her again when that happens. Her character design actually has a cool little detail that hints at that, and its her earring. It's quirky and weird, a fishhook through her ear. But its only on one ear, meaning that when she is introduced and she is leaning on her hand, it isn't visible. But when Luz makes her smile, she turns her head and the audience can see that earring and reveal something interesting that Luz missed.

Where the coven system stands for actively restricting people into areas, the track system stands for refining people into those boxes. Its a parody of the house system in a certain book series that I am dodging around the name of. In said book series, there are four houses that students are sorted into based on core personality traits - brave, clever, evil, and boring - and that system is scuffed as all hell, because not only does it not account for the fact that the character traits aren't mutually exclusive, it forms a self fulfilling prophecy.

Evil house students are assumed as villainous unless proven otherwise, so naturally they are outcasts who want to shake up the system, some are genuinely terrible folks, but at least one is only mean because he is expected to be. And the headmaster of that school explicitly notes that its a problem and doesn't make any attempt to change it.

So, what happens when you find a person who is both brainy and brave? Or a student who shows a skill for both healing and beast magic? What do you do?

Well, you stop relegating people who are complex as "troublemakers" for one, but you also stop forming stereotypes of people.

Final Thoughts

The First Day is a sound episode of the Owl House. It's fun and engages with the themes of the series in a neat way. This is the episode when then story makes itself clear about how it is engaging with archetypal storytelling, that being how actively it subverts it. This is also the episode with some of the funniest references in it, specifically the choosy hat is a favourite of mine.

Bump is a fan favourite character for a reason. He listens, and he adapts. This is an authority figure who gets called a dingus and his immediate reaction is "maybe I am a dingus."

Also, Basilisks are extinct. Remember this, this will come up again. The basilisks were dead to begin with, as dead as a doornail.

Anyway, next week I will be looking at Very Small Problems, so stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...? #the owl house #toh #the owl house luz #the owl house bump #principal bump #principal Hieronymus Bump #Hieronymus Bump #luz noceda #owl house #toh luz #toh bump

[yes-divine-ruler]

Kit Walker x Fem!Reader Smut - “Daddy Doesn’t Know” 2/2 (18+)

A part 2 was requested! So I thought I’d write one, hope you enjoy x

Summary: Kit and Y/N meet up against her father’s wishes after weeks of not seeing each other. Their love is hard to contain when they finally get a hold of each other.

CW: fingering, unprotected penetrative sex

Words: 1358

I woke up from the sound of tapping on my window. I rolled over to look, and although the curtains were drawn, the shadow of a person could distinctly be seen from inside. Startled, I got up out of bed, grabbing the closest thing to me and holding it to my chest. I was half awake, but petrified by who could be standing by my window.

I look over at my clock quickly, reading the time. It was 3 in the morning. My heart sunk in my chest as the tapping persisted. I hurried towards my bedroom door, about to open it to notify my father of the intruder.

“Psssst! Y/N,” I heard from the other side of the window.

“Huh?”

“It’s me, it’s Kit!” His voice sounded desperate in the whispering-shout tone he was using.

I scrambled to the window, a wave of relief washing over me when I realised it wasn’t an intruder, and it was, in fact, Kit’s voice speaking to me through the window.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, opening the window and seeing his face. I hadn’t seen him since my father caught us at the shop, weeks ago. My father kept a close watch on me ever since, not letting me go anywhere if it wasn’t school.

“Baby,” he whispered, reaching through the open window and cupping my face in his hands. He ran his thumbs over my cheeks adoringly. I grabbed onto one of his hands, pulling him by the arm towards me and closing the gap between us.

We kissed the way I’d wanted to kiss him since I last saw him, his lips feeling like a dream. I pulled away, tears welling in my eyes as I took him in. He was so handsome, the moonlight illuminating his perfect features.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him in a panic, the moment over when I realised my father was just upstairs.

“I couldn’t bear not seeing you anymore Y/N, everyday was a struggle, I barely slept not knowing when I was going to see you again,” He gushed, “are you gonna let me in?”

I thought for a moment, and then decided that I would, grabbing onto his arm and helping him into my bedroom. He landed on my floor with a thump, both of us quick to cover our mouths to stifle our laughs.

I pulled him over to the bed, sitting him down on the edge and moving to straddle his lap. I laid my head on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his broad back.

“Baby I missed you,” I whispered, bringing my head up to look into his dark eyes. He offered me a small smile, leaning in and giving me another kiss.

“It’s not gonna happen again, I won’t let it,” Kit mumbled, his eyes on my lips as they turned into a big smile.

I pushed Kit down softly so he was laying on his back, leaning myself downwards to connect our lips. His hands shot up under my slinky nightdress, cupping my backside under the cool fabric. I couldn’t help but grind my hips into his as his teeth nibbled my bottom lip. The feeling of having him close again, feeling his body, was pure bliss.

He moaned softly into my mouth as our tongues came in contact, my hands travelling down to his pants and tugging on the waistband.

He pulled away for a moment, breathless, “What? Here?” His eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost.

“Screw it, I want to feel all of you again,” I had an urge that wasn’t going away until I had all of him.

Kit laughed softly, unfastening his pants and pulling them down with his underwear. His bare erection made contact with my clothed centre, my panties drenched in my own arousal.

“Off,” he instructed, grabbing onto my hips and flipping us over, so I was now laid on my back.

He slid off my panties, tossing them over his shoulder, his eyes hungrily gazing between my legs. It was dark, the moon our only way of seeing each other. His fingers ran over my slit, before he pushed in a single finger. I had to hold in my cries, my own hand covering my mouth as he pumped into me at a steady pace, adding another finger when he felt like I needed it. His eyes stared into mine, his bottom lip between his teeth as his thumb made contact with my clit.

Both of my hands were covering my mouth now, the pleasure I was feeling so intense that I thought I might scream. His breathing was low and he let out a little groan. I took a hand from my mouth, using it to stroke his erection, pre cum dripping from his tip.

He bit his lip so hard I thought it might draw blood, the way he melted under my touch.

“Kit- I can’t hold it in I’m gonna cum,” I took my hand off my mouth for only a second, buckling my hips up greedily to meet Kit’s fingers. He applied more pressure, his fingers curling inside me as I felt an orgasm ripple through me. I hadn’t felt pleasure like this in so long.

I clenched around his wet fingers, his thumb never leaving my clit as I rode out my orgasm. Kit removed his fingers from me, satisfied, bringing them up to his mouth and tasting me.

The sight alone almost made me cum again.

He lined himself up at my entrance, his face now inches from my own as he entered me. His hips rocked at a slow pace, the feeling of him inside me again unimaginable. He moved my hand from my mouth, kissing me sloppily, trying to stop his own moans from escaping.

“I have thought about this- every day- for the past few weeks,” he whispered between kisses, my legs coming up to wrap around his waist.

“I’m not gonna last,” he said again worryingly, but I didn’t care, being so close to him was all that I craved.

“Then don’t,” I encouraged, watching his eyes roll back and his pace quicken. My headboard started to hit against the wall as he fucked me, his eyes wide as he tried to wedge his fingers between it and the wall.

He couldn’t stop, his forehead beading with sweat as he finished, his thrusts slowing to a gradual stop.

We lay there, foreheads pressed together, our breathing heavy as he let out a small laugh in disbelief.

“I love you, I’m coming back for you,” he promised, leaving a kiss on my nose.

“I love you,” I whispered, closing my eyes to savour this moment between us.

“Oh shit!” I heard Kit whisper, quickly getting off me and putting his pants and shoes back on.

I looked at him alarmingly, as the hall light turned on, and steady footsteps echoed down the stairs and through my bedroom.

“Go!” I whispered, helping Kit out of the window. He landed on his feet, blowing me a kiss before disappearing through my front yard.

I closed the window quietly, before running back to my bed, covering myself with my sheet and closing my eyes.

As if luck was on our side, my father opened the door just as I got into bed, my hand covering my mouth again to hide my heavy breathing. I could see his silhouette in the doorway for only a moment, before he shut the door, and ascended back up the stairs.

I uncovered my mouth, letting out a sigh of relief when he was gone. The feeling of emptiness took over when I realised Kit was no longer with me, his warmth wasn’t by my side and I didn’t know when i was going to see him again.

With his scent still lingering on my pillow, I held it to my chest to fall back to sleep, hoping I’d dream of us together again. His words “I’m coming back for you” played over and over in my head as I drifted off to sleep for the second time tonight.

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#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #kit walker x reader #kit walker smut #kit walker

[thezombieprostitute]

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 8 - Third Date

A/N: Continued from Part 7. Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors. None of this is beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Discussion of ableism, bullying, families being separated, food scarcity, non-consensual relationships. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1-- --Part 9--

--Series Masterlist--

"Can you give me anything to work with," Y/N asked the redhead across the table. "I don't enjoy condemning people but there's evidence of you supporting the revolutionists and you're not denying any of it, Ms. Romanov."

The redheaded woman continued to sit in silence, fiddling with her fingers. Y/N could smell the "art fair", the curry and warm beer scent on her. The indicator of guilt the AI couldn't sense. She also smelled Romanov's scent: rations. Bland, nothing interesting, rations. Romanov wanted to make herself forgettable and had clearly messed with her own scent glands to achieve that goal.

Y/N sighed, "I'll be back in a bit." She left to go to the room next door, holding the Beta's partner-in-crime.

When she walked in, she recognized the scent as one that she was almost paired with: the cold front breaking the heatwave, or bringing the blizzards. Right now the Alpha's scent was distinctly "blizzard" but with that faint hint of "art fair" she recognized as well.

Sitting down she looked at the tall, dark haired, blue eyed Alpha and began, "there is evidence of you supporting the revolutionists, Mr. Barnes. Do you have any counter evidence or arguments?"

Similar to Romanov, he responded with silence. Eyes as cold as the snow he smelled of. Face as impossible to read as a whiteout.

"Please," Y/N pleaded, only to be met with silence and cold.

Trying another tactic she told him, "you know, your scent was one that was proffered as a potential mate for me."

No reaction.

"I very nearly chose you," she continued. "If I hadn't smelled another one first, I would have picked you to court."

No reaction.

"If your scent was so appealing to me then, it's entirely possible that you're not mixed up with the revolutionaries. That you and your mate can be free to go. Yes, your marks are covered, but I can smell it on you. I'm very glad I didn't select your scent. I would never want to take you away from her."

No reaction.

"Please do consider," Y/N got up and walked back to Ms. Romanov's room to try again.

Curtis was getting better at finding Y/N's apartment. He'd started picking up on those subtle scent changes that she had talked about on their first meeting. Namely he knew he could follow the scents of freshly made food and he'd find her place.

Knocking on the door he heard a very distinctly male voice respond, "come on in!" Confused, he walked in and was greeted by the sight of a blonde haired Beta with glasses and a goatee cooking away in the kitchen.

"You must be Jake," Curtis reasons.

"That's me," he responds with a big smile. "Y/N asked me to cook up dinner for all of us tonight since she's got a heavy workload today and you said you wanted to meet me."

Curtis nods, "do you need or want some help?"

"Nah," Jake shakes his head. "I could cook this meal in my sleep. It's one of her absolute favorites! But I wouldn't mind chatting with you while I work."

Curtis walks into the kitchen, the scents of the herbs overpowered by the ones coming from the stove, throwing him off for a second. He shakes his head to clear his senses and try to figure out how to ask what he needed to without actually asking.

“Fun fact,” Jake interrupted Curtis’s thoughts, “you’re only the second, maybe third Alpha I’ve ever really interacted with.”

“Yeah?” Curtis tilted his head. “I’d think you’d have met at least a few around the tower. I’ve only had one “tour” and saw another Alpha. You’ve lived here for years.”

“Yeah, you “saw” an Alpha, you didn’t interact with him, did you?”

“I guess there is a difference.”

“A lot of Alphas around here, if they’re allowed out and about, aren’t generally in a talkative mood. Worst case scenario, for Betas in their path, they’re looking for some kind of outlet for their pain and frustration. That’s why you saw Frank Castle in the gym; you have no idea how many times that punching bag has been replaced.”

“I can see why you’d keep your head down, then. So what other Alphas have you interacted with?”

“Constance, Y/N’s mother,” Jake replies softly. “She was…something. She definitely took the protection aspect of being an Alpha incredibly seriously. You know there was talk of getting rid of Y/N?”

Curtis nods, “I remember her telling me, in our first meeting, that they thought her brain was weird and considered getting rid of her, whatever that means.”

“Her tests frequently came back outside of the AI’s parameters for a “successful” Omega. But Constance wasn’t about to let anyone harm her pup. She negotiated a timetable for showing her daughter could still be useful to the AI. Not wanting to waste a valuable resource like an Omega, the AI agreed. That’s when I got drafted. Most Betas are brought in to be like old fashioned whipping boys. Other than when an Omega lies, Betas are the ones that get hurt for their mistakes. You’ve seen with Colin and Suzanne how well that usually goes.”

Curtis huffed in agreement and Jake continued, “but with Constance and Y/N, that wasn’t my fate. I actually got to live up to the title of Emotional Support Beta. All three of us would dig into the research and try all the calming techniques to figure out what could help Y/N stay an asset so she could stay alive. As a…group, we learned how to make Y/N’s sensitivities an asset. Constance was an amazing Alpha who left an understandably strong impression on her daughter and myself. I will be holding you to the standard she set.”

“I promise to do my best,” Curtis nodded. "I'm kinda surprised you're allowed to tell me all of this."

Jake nodded, "it's a simple matter of logic and reason. The better informed and prepared you are, the higher the chances of a...success, let's call it. There's a ton I still can't tell you due to security concerns, of course, but that's a discussion for another day."

“I didn’t realize how much work went into being the caretaker for an Omega.”

Jake stopped what he was doing and stared at the Alpha, “I genuinely hope you’re not treating this like a job. Like being with her is going to be nothing but a chore for you. She likes you. More importantly, she trusts you. And the one good trait she got from her father is that she does not trust lightly.”

Curtis raised his hands a bit to placate the Beta, “it came out harsher than I intended. I’ve seen for myself that she’s incredibly capable and intelligent. Hell, I find myself trusting her as well and that also doesn’t happen often.” Jake nodded and turned back to the food.

“So, what is this favorite food of hers,” Curtis asked, attempting to lighten the conversation.

Jake smiled, “it’s 5-cheese mac-n-cheese. I’ve told her the recipe but she swears it only tastes right when I cook it. Much like her death-by-chocolate cake. I’ve tried making it but it’s not as good as when she does.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more than one kind of cheese,” Curtis responded. “And death-by-chocolate cake? It all sounds really rich.”

“They’ve kinda become our special occasion food,” Jake nods. “Because it’s usually just the two of us, it’s just a lot. Sometimes we share with another Omega, Peggy.” Curtis’s ears perk up at the familiar name while Jake continues, “Y/N likes her well enough because she treats her Beta pretty well. Not a lot of us Betas are willing to stand up for or defend our Omegas, but he’s stood up to Alphas and Omegas for her so that’s incredibly telling.”

Curtis smiled at the thought of Stevie standing up for someone with more power than him. He really did never like bullies. Curtis took comfort in the information that his brother’s Omega wasn’t cruel to him. That, maybe, he actually had some happiness. 

Before the conversation could continue the door opened and Y/N walked in, tears falling down her face. Without thinking Curtis rushed over and hugged her, asking what happened. When she started sobbing, Curtis's inner Alpha started purring in an attempt to calm her while gently petting her hair. Jake watched from the kitchen, a small smile forming on his face as her sobbing quieted. 

Jake set the table and served up the food while Curtis kept comforting Y/N. He tried to be as quiet as he could so as not to interrupt the sweet scene. Jake could tell she’d had a rough day at work and liked that Curtis’s instinct was exactly what she needed. 

When Y/N stopped crying she looked at Curtis and jumped back, “Oh, I”m so-”

“Please, don’t apologize,” Curtis interrupted. His dark blue eyes were filled with concern as he took her hand and asked, “what happened?”

Y/N sniffed a bit, “just a really, really rough day. It was a couple. A mated couple.” She stopped when Jake coughed. “Oh,” she shook her head, “that’s right. I can’t. I’m not allowed to tell you much. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Curtis soothed. “Let’s just sit and enjoy this delicious smelling meal Jake cooked, okay?”

She nodded and let Curtis lead her to the table where Jake was already seated, wearing a big grin on his face.

"And Jake has yet to break my Tetris high score," Y/N smiled proudly.

"I never should have taught you how to play," Jake chuckled. "Then I'd still be champion!"

Curtis chuckled at the duo. Their interactions reminded him so much of the pups. It was interesting to see that, despite the AI’s efforts to diminish the role of Packs, the dynamics were still inherent in people.

Their talk was interrupted when Y/N chirped. She was so surprised that she slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and she dropped her face in embarrassment. Curtis’s inner Alpha practically growled with pride at the sign his Omega was happy. 

Not my Omega, he reminded himself. Gotta keep that under control.

Meanwhile Jake was almost cheering, “you haven’t chirped in years! This is amazing!” 

Curtis touched a hand to her chin to gently lift her face towards him, “Sweetie, it’s okay. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Sweetie?”

“Um, yeah,” Curtis suddenly felt bashful. “Because you bake sweets and make tea. If it’s too forward I can take it back.”

“I love it,” Y/N smiles at him. “It’s nice to have a nickname that’s not meant to hurt me. Thank you so much.”

Jake coughed, “not to break up what is possibly the sweetest moment I’ve ever seen but if you’re giving her such a nickname, does that mean…” Jake gave Curtis a meaningful look, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to work,” Curtis nodded. “If I have to sign something or get a physical or whatever, but I…I consent to being your Alpha.”

“Can I hug you,” she stood and held her arms open. Curtis stood and accepted her hug. She put her nose right at his mating gland. She immediately picked up his loyalty, his trust in her and even a bit of genuine care for her. But she also smelled his uncertainty, his conflicted feelings, his love for his Pack and that hint of curry and warm beer. 

As she let him go and stepped back she looked at him, “you don’t actually want this, do you?” The pain on her face was clear. “You would be fine going back to how things were before our first meeting, even the malnutrition, if it meant you could stay with your Pack. You don’t want to be my Alpha, do you?”

“I…” Curtis stops himself, caught off guard by her insight. “I won’t deny that my Pack is my priority. That the promise of a better life for them is the primary drive to continuing to be with you.” He stepped towards her, his eyes focused on hers, the sincerity in his words practically making them glow with intensity. “But in less than one month you’ve earned my trust. A feat no one else can match. And with that trust, I find myself liking you, finding comfort in your presence, genuinely enjoying getting to know you. It might not be the stuff of True Mates, but I hope you’ll agree it’s a damn good start, Sweetie.”

Y/N’s inner Omega took over a second and she wrapped her arms around Curtis’s neck, kissing him deeply, passionately. Curtis responded in kind and they’re lost in each other’s hold for several seconds. As she broke the kiss, Curtis looked at her and whispered, “don’t apologize.” She giggled shyly, “thank you. And you’re right. Mutual trust is a very good start.”

It took them a few more moments to register the fact that Jake has been taking photos. Y/N’s eyes went wide, “Jake! What are you doing!”

“Capturing one of the sweetest moments I’ve ever been privileged to witness! These are going right into the permanent photo album!”

Curtis chuckled and brought Y/N back close to him. “Let him have his fun. I get the feeling the next week or so is going to be very busy for all of us.” He gave her a light kiss. “I’m going to be relying on the two of you because I have no idea how the process goes. And I’m going to need to be a quick study for your upcoming heat.”

“While also making sure the transition is as easy on your Pack as it can be,” Y/N nodded. She knew it would be important to Curtis and wanted to be supportive. “I’m not sure what my workload will be like. You may have to rely more on Jake for things, but I’ll help out as much as I can, I promise.”

“I’m already starting on the forms to fill out,” Jake interjected, working on his tablet. “I should have this stuff finished in no time, just need some information from you, Curtis.”

“Yeah, so long as I can get home to my Pack tonight, let them know what’s going on.”

The rest of the night, Curtis didn’t let go of her hand until he had to leave for home. Making sure to kiss her goodnight.

Late into the night Hobie receives the two signals he’s been looking for. The plan is on track.

--Part 9--

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.

#alpha!curtis everett #alpha!curtis everett x omega!reader #curtis everett x tall!reader #dystopia au #dystopian au #tall!reader

[astrumocs]

🗣 oda and seifer >:3

Main Characters: Odarem Mortis (His POV) & Seifer Sanaca Side Characters/Mentioned Characters: Vrikoh Havlok (Odarem's official fleet general) & Seifer's Fleet Captain (Armand Buleis) Setting: Seifers' Newest Fleet Ship, some 2 or so sweeps back CW(s): Mentions of Blood and allusions to a murder

----- Google Docs Link -----

You step off of the small transport vessel that had ferried you to your new assignment, the scent of blood hitting your nose immediately, causing you to raise your face mask into place. Well, you’re actually catching two distinct blood trails coming from different directions, but one is a lot fresher… You can’t help but find this curious, as the murder you’re meant to be investigating happened two days ago. Despite your curiosities, your outward demeanor does nothing to show that as you approach to meet with the captain of the ship.

“Doctor Mortis… good to see you’ve finally arrived. I’m sure I don’t need to waste my time briefing you on the situation at hand, do I?” The seadweller raises a harsh brow, tapping his cane to the floor in obvious impatience.

“Not at all, Sir. I read the report on the way, with permission from General Havlok to take as long as required.”

He studies you, perhaps bothered that he can’t see most of your face to scrutinize your expression for not being respectful enough, given the eyepatch and mask you wear. “I give you free rein of the main floor to investigate and find the culprit as you must. If, for whatever reason, you require access to another floor, my Lieutenant will see to you and handle it from there. I expect this dealt with in the next two hours or less, cusp-blood.”

“Just for you, Captain, I’ll have it done in one.” He may not know you’ve got a smarmy little smirk on your face, or that you would’ve winked there as you give your ‘to attention’ salute, but you know, and that’s what really matters here.

After getting that asshole off your back, you don’t waste a second before you’re turning toward the fresh scent of blood, slipping your mask down as your nose twitches and you head towards it. You’re careful to listen for any footsteps or other noises following after you, but hear nothing besides your own boots hitting the floor.

This isn’t a scent you’ve encountered in some time, you think, puzzling over what it could be, when the scent of something distinctly unfamiliar clouds up the mix in your head. This is peculiar, it wouldn’t match up with the killer's profile at all, as far as you know. This drives your curiosity ever higher, and you walk quickly and with purpose… until you come to the end of a series of shoebox-style rooms for the military grunts and reach a… repurposed supply room?

You lean close to the door, listening in, but only hear a grunt and the creaking of a bed. Perhaps an isolated soldier with some kind of odd illness? Why the blood? Why no medical staff nearby? You can’t help it, you know you’d be able to track the murderer down in 20 minutes tops, so you have some time to spare.

With that, you raise a gloved hand to knock gently on the door and speak only loud enough to hopefully be heard by whoever’s inside. “Hey in there, I’m here under your captain's orders. My name is Odarem Mortis, may I come in?”

There’s a long pause where you wonder if they even heard you, until a rasped voice answers you, hesitant confusion lacing their tone. “What…? You... no, leave me alone...”

You’re really not one to push, but your curiosity and concern for this individual push you to ask once more. “Are you sure..? I won’t pry, but I’d just like to check and see if you’re alright, if I can. I won’t cause you trouble, swear on my last good eye.” Shifting your weight slightly from foot to foot, you await their answer through another pause.

“There is nothing to check…”

As the voice trails off, you’re readying yourself to respect the refusal when the voice interrupts your line of thought.

“But you may come in if you really wish to…”

You open the door slowly, your other hand up in the air passively as the tired-sounding stranger comes into view. The shade of violet he possesses immediately ticks your box for a likely mutant, and your gaze gets a little more sympathetic than it already was. You can’t help but note the dried blood on his clothing, that you must’ve caught the scent of to lead you here. He looks at you warily for a moment before hanging his head, as though hoping to avoid any judgement and conversation.

Still, you can’t help but want to converse with him, shutting the door and moving away from it so he doesn’t feel trapped by any chance. “Are you hurt?” you ask softly, trying to be forthright and genuine, to hopefully ease that heavy tension you can tell sits in his whole body like a rock.

His fins flick, but you can’t tell if that’s good or bad yet. “I have no injuries…” The violet refuses to look at you as he answers.

Cautiously, you approach to sit on the far end of his bed and he tenses, though he relaxes a bit more when you don’t make any further movements.

“Can I ask about the source of the blood?”

Immediately his fins flatten and his head turns a little further away from you, indicating that this was the wrong question, so you quickly supply more to follow it up, “You don’t have to tell me anything, your privacy is your own… it would be nice to know your name though, if you’re feeling adventurous?” Your tone is playful at the tail end; non-threatening.

Something about your response eases a lot of the tension he was holding, and he finally turns to look at you, even if his body language remains closed and curled in on itself.

“Seifer…”

The seadweller, Seifer as he’s told you now, studies you- though unlike his captain, his gaze is like that of a prey animal rather than a bored predator. You feel a bit of pain in your chest at whatever put this man in such a state, though instead of showing that, you smile at him brightly. “Nice to meet you, Seifer. I’m Odarem, though you probably heard that through the door already.”

Seifer gives an affirmative sound, eyeing you with a bit of curious interest of his own now as you continue.

“I’m here on work, so I can’t stay long, but… did you want some company? I’ve got half an hour to do something other than my job, give or take, and you seem like you’d be good to chat with. Handsome too, if it’s not overly forward of me to say.” The smile on your face remains relaxed and easy, keeping the pressure as low as possible.

At the compliment to his obviously disheveled appearance, he blushes, fins twitching again. You note that the twitch is probably a positive sign at this point.

“I… y-you can stay, if you would really like, but… I cannot promise I’m good company.”

“I think you’ve done a fine job of it so far, Seif, I’m already having a nice time. And well, you seem like you could use some good company, yeah?”

There’s some hard-to-read look in his ringed eyes like he’s almost in disbelief at how kind you’ve been. He leans slightly closer in your direction, though you suspect it to be subconsciously. You can’t help but wonder if the fact he let you nickname him so quickly and is no longer moving away from you means anything… is he that starved for kindness here? You suppose that you shouldn’t be surprised, given the state you found him in, and the fact he doesn’t even have a proper room- along with the sour attitude his commanding captain wears.

Cautiously you reach a hand forward, stopping when you see him stiffen a bit, though not fully retracting your reach. “Apologies, I should ask… You seem tense, is all. It isn’t my place to ask you why-- though given this place I don’t blame you.”

He seems put at ease by your casual insult to the ship, though, and he doesn’t lean away from you, so you press a little more. “I can loosen up those knots in your shoulders if you’d like. Might make the place a little more bearable? And don’t worry, I’ve got a degree in easing tension.” You joke, keeping it light.

Seifer fiddles with his necklace as he seems to consider your offer, another slight blush dusting the tips of his ears behind his fins, though you’re not sure exactly which part of your words prompted this. 

“Go… go ahead,” Seifer mumbles, looking away from you, but not moving as you shift closer now, slightly behind and beside him on the bed and lifting your hands to hover over his shoulders.

“I’m going to place my hands on you now, just a heads up, Seif.”

He makes a low, appreciative grunt of acknowledgment, and you gently place your hands down on his shoulders, easing into pressing your thumbs into the muscle to work them loose. A little bit of time passes as you feel him melt beneath your hands, giving sounds of approval when you break the tension spots up.

You lean forward to ask him how he’s feeling, right as he seems to turn his head to say something to you, and you nearly bump foreheads as both he and you still. Seifer looks a bit wide-eyed from what you think must be out of surprise until his face darkens with blush once more.

Speaking without thinking too much you ask, “Can I kiss you? I’d be gentle.”

Violet fins flutter even harder than they had before, though this time they remain more upright. Your question seems to do nothing to assuage his blush, though he appears too stunned to answer, so you speak again. “You can say no, of course. If that went too far, I can back off--”

“N... no, I--” He seems surprised by his own sudden protest, eyes glancing downward as he forces out the rest “Please do…”

You smile softly, brushing his lip with your thumb to catch his attention. “Of course.” And when he looks up, you kiss him gently.

#my art #my writing #odarem mortis #seifer sanaca #inverse compassions #conversation meme #afallatmak #thank u lin for sending and proofreading it :boohoo: #this is a bit long and i know I'm lagging behind on people stuff so u don't have to read this one nw's #just happy i wrote smthn #but if u do read i i kissa u <3

[toffrox]

Less than a month until Hunter’s Gift, Apollo’s Glow officially becomes an AU!!

if you’re impatient for The Sun and the Star do I have the fic for you!

Read it while it’s still canon-compliant!

63k | 27 chapters | completed work

Preview below 👇

Nico

It shouldn't be surprising, really.

Nico shouldn't be surprised.

He had known this was coming.

They had heard the prophecy. Nico had heard her voice, calling him, for months.

And yet, seeing Akhlys again is more devastating than Nico could ever have imagined.

He unfurls himself from Will's arms to confirm what he already knows from the sound of her voice.

She looks different through the shield of Mist he is now able to put up but the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.

"Nico di Angelo." She croons in her rasping voice. Nico fights back against a full body shiver. Akhyls smiles wide through her tears. "My old friend."

Nico feels despair curl upwards from the base of his spine, shooting through his torso and up into his throat. For a moment he's convinced that he's going to scream.

And then- 

Warm hands covering his own. A familiar presence against his back. 

Will's shoulders curved protectively around his. Will's breath steady on the back of his neck.

He's stepped forward, keeping Nico held in his embrace.

And Nico hears his warm voice, directed at Akhlys. Strong and somehow unafraid. Defensive.

"He's not your friend." 

And Nico realises: this is not the same as the last time he stood before Akhlys.

As this dawns on him, Will's words still reverberating through his body, he sees Akhlys's smile fade.

Another line of the prophecy slots into place in Nico's mind.

You shall fail to please the Goddess of Woe.

Fail to please.

Fail. To please.

Nico squeezes Will's hands in his own and pushes back so that he's leaning further into his boyfriend's warmth.

He thinks of everything he's achieved since the last time he was here.

Accepting Jason's help. Coming out to Percy and Annabeth. Following Will's advice in the infirmary. Making friends at Camp Half Blood. Talking to a doctor in New Rome every week. Deciding not to leave Camp Half Blood. Deciding not to leave again, every single day. Sharing his past with Will. Sharing his fears with Will. Being vulnerable. Being there for Will when he's vulnerable too. Starting therapy with Mr D. Accepting himself, and finally starting to understand himself. 

And Tartarus is terrifying, and the memory of the last time he was here is still there, but Will is also here. And right now, he's a reminder of everything that's different.

Last time, Nico hadn't known who he was. He was so lost. And Akhlys had called him perfect. 

This time, Nico does know. And Akhlys is distinctly un-pleased.

Read on ao3

#pjo fanfic #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #completed work #Nico and Will go to Tartarus #the sun and the star #tsats #tsats predictions #shameless plug #will this fic age terribly? 28 days until we find out

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Oasis: Day Seventeen

CW: Nightmares; soldiers being inhumane, hiding; ripped out of house; attempted rape; gore (body horror), animal attack, religious allusions

This is a very disturbing part; if you don’t want to, or cannot read it; there will be a non-graphic recap at the beginning of the next part to let you know what happened, as it is important to the plot.

If you are fine with everything but don’t want to read the gore, skip the section between the 🦉

Don’t sacrifice your mental health for fiction (especially not mine; I will be personally hurt and insulted if you do).

…

…

… I slept all day yesterday. I the most horrible nightmares. I remember everything so clearly it’s almost as if it actually happened. Though rationally, I know I never experienced any of it. I think it may be a warning of some sort… Let me tell you about it, whoever you are:

At first, I was sitting somewhere pitch-dark and cold, like a cellar. There were other people with me who I could not see; but I could feel them moving and shifting around me. We were in close quarters, breathing together. Every sound we made was painfully loud. Maybe it was the acoustics; maybe it was our state of mind. We were waiting for something terrible to happen.

But the strangest thing was that our emotional climate was not one entirely of fear. It was something else, something so distinctly eager. Reverent, even. Our suffering was virtuous; and we were all in it together. We understood what was happening and why — nobody could take that knowledge from us. I understood it, too, in the moment of the dream. But now the knowledge is taken from me.

Soon the sound of many, many boots came running in above our heads. We shuddered. Loud, but muffled voices sounded through the upper room, which I presumed to be attached to a small bungalow of some sort. Though I had never seen the house, I felt as if I knew exactly what it looked like; in my heart of hearts, I could have drawn its floor plan. I could see what rooms the men above were in based on what I heard of their movements. I could see them picking up little trinkets on the shelves and setting them down. I could see them opening the kitchen cupboards. I could see them rummaging through the clothes in the bedroom, and then the bookcase—

Something was on that bookcase that shouldn’t have been there… or did I have it? I hoped I had it. Or perhaps someone else had it. It didn’t matter where it was; just please not there.

Or were there more of them than only one? A myriad rainbow of books flashed before my eyes in recollection. There was a loud thud, like a bomb on the bedroom floor... something blue. He was stooping to pick it up. He was reading the cover, flipping through the pages of a history long-reiterated since the bloom of technology — something only living in the back of our minds, until then. I could barely hear a child cry over the sound of my own heartbeat.

That’s when they found us. The trap door above our heads slammed open.  I should have been scared; but a wave of calm washed over me. It was alright. This needed to happen. 

Adults and children alike, we turned to face these men, peacefully offering our arms to them. We were hoisted one-by-one into the room; then they shoved us out of the house, at gunpoint, into the open air. I landed on my bare knees, in the grass.

It was an unusually loud, bright night. Crickets, cicadas, and frogs made the air sound like it was sizzling in a frying pan. Millions upon millions of stars sparkled in the sky. It was like being in the middle of outer space. I stared at the the spectacle, half dazed, in wonder. 

I was harshly pulled to my feet and made to walk in a straight line behind the others. These men were taking us somewhere, presumably to kill us. The thought of what would happen next was terrifying; but we were all assured: whatever horrible things might happen that night would not happen to us.

As we trudged through the muddy fields, we came upon a tree, which wasn’t very tall, but wide. We were all told to stop walking at about fifty paces away and forcibly lined up side-by-side, facing this tree. It was then I noticed a small bird, like a funny-looking owl, perched on one of its branches. I would not been able to see it had it not been for the stars illuminating the white stripe around its neck and wings; otherwise, it was a brown bird, with pitch-black eyes. It wasn’t long before three more flew in and perched themselves right next to the first one; then another three, and another three. Some more landed on a different branch. Like the first, they all remained completely silent.

I froze at the sensation of cold metal on the back of my neck. My arm was being grabbed, obscene words whispered in my ears in a mixture of breath and spit. But my eyes were fixed on what was happening in the tree. The men were too busy terrorizing us to notice as birds descended on the tree from every direction, dozens at a time. Their number grew steadily like an exponential function, flocking, landing, squeezing themselves between the others until every limb was weighed-down with these strange, mute little owls. 

I tried to fight off the man, but I was too weak. He threw me on the ground; that’s when I got my first good look at him: He was wearing a black uniform. His face was smudged out. This faceless, mouthless soldier was shouting, pulling my hair, bashing my skull. I was screaming. Everyone was screaming. The insects quickly rose to a fever pitch, trilling at such a high volume that our cries were drowned out. 

Suddenly, the light shifted in a way it should not have. Alarmed at the change, the man stopped attacking me and jumped to his feet. I lay there, exhausted and shaking all over from what had just transpired. My lips were moving, my throat was vibrating with sound; but I neither knew, nor heard what I was saying at all. I was crying out something very profound and long-winded. The only words I remember from it were “the flesh of kings.” I don’t know what that meant. It obviously bore some significance to the situation; but what, I don’t know. I was terribly frightened and not at all present in my body.

I looked at the sky; the stars seemed like they were spinning. I managed to roll onto my side to get away from them because they were making me dizzy. I covered my ears, trying to block out the deafening noise. My organs were rattling inside my body. I remember begging, “Help me” over and over again. Within seconds I felt the sensation of a benevolent, warm presence wrap itself around my abdomen. I put my hand to my abdomen to feel what was causing it. Nothing was there. Another warm spot formed at my head; everything was going to be alright. 

There was a tiny pop, barely-audible. I opened my eyes. Across the field, I was able to see the soldiers whipping around in every direction, frantically pointing their guns heavenwards, then at the tree, and back again. They were like frightened animals. I, too, was unnerved; I had to sit up to make sure my eyes were not playing tricks on me:

The tree was cast in what looked like a spotlight. This spotlight was not stationary— neither was the moon. Obviously, every stellar body is in constant motion, it would be silly to say I was alarmed at this fact alone. But in relation to my position on Earth, I could see with my own two eyes, the moon was orbiting around the Earth at an immense speed. Despite the knowledge I seemed to have in this dream,  it frightened me. 

The multitude of tiny, white-throated owls, on the other hand, were peaceful as ever. They were soundless, motionless; more like stone than flesh and blood. Birds are such sensitive creatures, especially to changes in magnetism; yet they did not react to the moon… Why?

I jumped. A pair of wings whizzed past my ear from behind. Then another, and another, and another. I stood. There was a huge, black cloud lifting off ground, and we were right in the middle of it. This strange cloud hovered above our heads, as if suspended in a liquid. The soldiers backed up in groups of two to five men, staying as close as they could to one another in order to ward off whatever was to come.

Then suddenly everything was gone. The moon, the crickets, the stars in the sky. It was pitch-black and dead silent; as if had someone covered our eyes and plugged our ears — but both were still wide-open.

When this cover lifted from our senses, it was daylight. The sun was out and the birds were singing as if nothing ever changed. We all rose unsteadily to our feet to see what had just happened. All the soldiers were dead. The ground was littered with them. In a state of shock, awe, and morbid curiosity, I slowly approached the nearest corpse…

🦉

There was so much blood on the ground that I had to be careful not to slip in it. His body was rigid; the fingers bent in an unnatural position. I should have turned back, but I didn’t. I went even closer. His face had been eaten off, except for his left eye, which was hanging down the side of his skull by a wet clump of connective tissue. It was a blue eye. 

One of the birds that had been in the tree fluttered down, landing with its feet in the ripped-open pool of the soldier’s mouth. It bobbed around before nestling between what little of his teeth were still intact, bathing in the blood as if it were water. 

“Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,” The little bird said. 

🦉

I awoke, bolt-upright, screaming. Kylie appeared at my bedside and I latched onto her. I think I may have crushed the girl… I feel just awful.

…

Tagging: @astudyinpanda @oldwoolhat @jiminy-cricket-but-gay @gorelabs @straight-to-the-pain @incoherent-introspection @nova-3-the-exo @bitalene

#gore tw #eye gore #rape tw #soldiers tw #gun tw #oasis #Don’t feel too bad about crushing her Dulce #general cw #animal attack tw

[multistoty]

@tofeelthecold​

Luke knew that his Uncle did not at all find the hermit who lived on the outskirts of Tatooine to be a decent man or a distraction to listen too, but he had always cared for the elder man who had always had a great deal of patience for him. He still held onto the plane the man had given him. It had to be expensive to get such a thing in the outer rim. How many weeks had he worked and saved to ensure that Luke smiled like he did now. It was easy to see that something haunted Ben even the fables of the past jedis would not be needed to read that particular sentiment. It had struck him as slightly odd that Kenobi looked at him as if he were seeing fragments from memories. His father was a spice trader and he wondered again if they had been friends. Maybe the maps he seemed lost in when taking in the boy’s features were that of a friend faced with the younger version of the person they once loved.The parts of his soul that his Uncle Owen called too kind for his own good felt compelled to be a balm to those injuries even if they were on the soul instead of some skin covered part of the body. He had spent most of the day working out how to get his chores on the moisture farm done soon enough to see the man who he called friend. It was a safe place to go to at all times. He hadn’t at all expected to be chased around by the sand people on that journey though. With a flourish, he handed the man at his side the apple he had procured. The fruit was slightly beaten up from being placed in the pockets of his thin poncho. Maybe even dried slightly by the twin suns of tatooine. There were a lot of questions he had too. The phantom pain in his wrist had started again. It wasn’t like their were many medical options in the outer rim even if they had the money. Sometimes, it almost felt crazy to endure as if their was some part of him thousands of miles away that his body recognized as missing. There was no injury to speak of or any bacta to soothe it. The elder man had been the only one to actually believe him when he said it even if the concern made the youngling feel distinctly guilty later. His aunt and uncle meant well like they always did though they seemed to think he was using this as an excuse to get out of some work or another. No one looked at him like this man with vivid blue eyes. Like he mattered. He was strong with a voice worthy of being listened too. “I doubt that. I am sure that some of your friends loved your sage advice even if you haven’t told me much about them. I can be your friend now.I saved this for you after the plane you got me. Thank you by the way. I heard one of the other kids say that my father was the first kid to win the podraces! Maybe I can be just like him without the whole spice trading or dying, of course. I may or may have got into some trouble here, Ben. No trouble coming into your door. But I was hoping you could let me rest or hide out in here for a while. I have to be back by dinner, but I think Aunt Beru would like me to be alive to do it.”

#time travel #because i love ben #i thought i was caught up for us

[hear-feel-think]

FfxivWrite2022 | #19 - Turn a Blind Eye

Rating: T for heavy subjects

Hades x Hythlodaeus, arguing about the convocation's handling of certain matters. Major spoilers, I am begging you not to read this if you haven't finished Endwalker.

----------

"You have heard the news from the neighbouring lands, have you not?" A small lamp that cast an orange glow over the table and the two men seated at it. The rest of the apartment was shrouded in darkness. Every happy memory made between these walls was easily forgotten as odd shadows and random patches of the faintest light made every item seem eerie, distorted, and impersonal.

Emet-Selch crossed his arm and sat back in his chair, putting himself at the edge of the pool of light. Shadows fell over the top half of his face. "I have," he said curtly.

"Then how can you turn a blind eye to the devastation?" Hythlodaeus made a broad gesture, as if to imply the danger was all around them, instead of many miles away. "Our dear friend is out there, right now, trying to help."

"Nobody asked Azem to do that," Emet-Selch growled. "In fact, I distinctly remember asking the exact opposite."

"Azem could die!"

He stood up and slapped the table with both hands. "Do you think I don't know that?"

Hythlodaeus stood up just as suddenly, forcing him to meet his eyes at an equal height. "Then will the Convocation do nothing?"

"How dare you!" Emet-Selch roared. "Every day the Convocation works towards the salvation of our people."

"Do you have any plans?" Hythlodaeus challenged.

"Of course we-"

"Any concrete, permanent solutions?"

"No," admitted Emet-Selch through gritted teeth. He sat down heavily, crossing his arms once again.

Hythlodaeus sat down with far more grace than his partner. "I've been going over some concepts submitted to the Bureau recently, and I think I have an idea," he said quietly.

"Go on."

The Chief Architect described a great being, more powerful than anything the Star had yet known. It would be given a strong affinity for the aspect of Darkness, and by harnessing the power of chaos and change, it could strengthen the aether currents flowing through Etheirys, and thereby reverse the stagnation.

Emet-Selch pondered it for a moment. "The being you describe would take an incredible amount of aether to create. If you gathered all of the most skilled weavers of creation magic in Amaurot, I don't think we could manage it."

"You will need sacrifices." Hythlodaeus grew quiet, staring at his hands, twining and untwining his fingers. "And once I have played my part in designing the concept…" his voice was barely more than a whisper, but filled with a steely resolve, "I intend to be one of them."

The white-haired man's face fell, and suddenly he wasn't Emet-Selch, guardian of the aetherial sea, he was Hades, friend and partner and lover. He grabbed Hythlodaeus by the shoulders. "Why would you say such a thing? We will find a way to restore balance without such measures."

Hythlodaeus put his hand over one of his lover's. "Don't you see?" he said softly, looking into Hades' yellow eyes. "It is the only way. We tried to create a perfect world, and now we must pay for our hubris. We must sacrifice of ourselves, so that our children and our children's children may know peace." He brought Hades' hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

Hades choked back tears. "There must be some other way. Even if we must summon this abomination, you do not have to sacrifice yourself. You designed this concept, as Chief Architect you must see it through to completion."

Hythlodaeus shook his head, his lilac braid falling over his shoulder and down his back. "I cannot contribute to its creation. My work will be done when the design is completed." He knelt in front of Hades and gathered both of his lover's hands between his own. "I have been over the data a thousand times and I can see no other solution that will last. You must bring my proposal to the Convocation."

"We will find another way." It was a plea, not an assurance. "Don't do this to me, Hythlodaeus. You can't - you can't leave me."

"It will be no different than returning to the aetherial sea. Please, Hades. This is my service to the star. You must promise me."

Hades knew, in his mind, that Hythlodaeus was right, this was the strongest, most permanent plan anyone had yet come up with. His heart raged against the very notion of losing Hythlodaeus, especially as the precarity of Azem's life still weighed so heavily on him. And yet, his eyes, looking up at Hades, were so big and so sad and so… him. Hades sighed, a shaky thing that rattled in his lungs. "If -" he began. Hythlodaeus knew him well enough to know where this sentence was going, and his face lit up. It was not quite joy that sparkled behind his lavender eyes, but perhaps the gratification of doing one's duty. "- and only if," Hades stressed, "all other options have been exhausted… I will bring your plans before the Convocation."

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#ffxiv #endwalker #Emet-Selch #Hythlodaeus #ffxivwrite2022 #fanfic #hey look i wrote a fic! #Emet-Selch x Hythlodaeus #Azem x Emet-Selch x Hythlodaeus #(implied)

[thewatercolours]

1 - Favorite fic.... ooooooh it varies, but top two is Goblin Graham and the other being that quiet talk between Graham and no2. Something about the former being so unknown to me that I'm dying to know how it goes and how it ends, how Graham manages to get out of this situation (if he does) and just... I have so many questions but I want to be a good reader and wait to see how it unfolds. Meanwhile, with the latter, it's so calming and pleasant and I love those fics where there's a quiet moment between characters.

6 - Something I remember vividly from one of your fics is actually the first goblin Graham fic. The confrontation he has with Manny is something that stuck out to me and hasn't really left, not sure why but I think it might be the anger or defeat in Graham's tone... something about it made it decide to live in my head. Within that same fic, Graham talking to Olfie also stuck out and I remember vividly because not a lot of people write Olfie (I'm guilty of that as well) and that entire scene I heard his voice and it was just.... -chef kiss-

8 - What I like the most about your writing is that there's something about it that makes me feel like I've stumbled onto a fairy tale I shouldn't be reading, like one of those books that's locked up in the deepest part of the library never to see the light of the day. And I mean that in the best way possible because your writing does have that Brothers Grimm kind of vibe, if that makes sense? Your writing also has this air of mystery to it that I can't help but want to know more of, which again falls back on that forbidden story vibes.

9 - Speaking of goblins, I am VERY excited to see the next part in this adventure, to see what the mirror is trying to share with Graham and now Olfie. I'm an eager little clown, what can I say?

11 - And now to be a wee bit selfish.... would love a fic of how no1 got into the state he's in with this supposed immortality. You dropped the hints and winks and now I want to find the darn book that has the story.

You are making my heart go all warm. Thank you so much! This makes me feel so so encouraged and loved. This is so very specific and kind and you took the time to write this out. Just -

As is probably obvious, Goblin Graham really grabbed my heart and ran off with it, so much so that (shhh...) almost everything in the Rippling Consequences arc relates to Goblin Graham. (That and about why the mirror shone golden in the game prologue but settled into purple waves afterwards - it's a long, roundabout answer.) I should really go and take out of the few scenes that don't and put them in their own space on ao3, to avoid confusion.

Oh gosh - for that scene with Number Two are you talking about "Solstice?" I had nearly forgotten about that one! Hm... Maybe I should have Number Three and Graham have a very soft chat up on the ramparts of the castle just so I can complete a hat trick.

Your talk of off-limits fairytales brought me back to a memory from when I was about seven or eight. I had a lovely book of traditional fairy tales, both well-known and obscure. I remember distinctly that there was one about a man who determined to find the Garden of Eden itself, to see if he could steal a fruit from the tree of life and live forever. Everyone warned him this could come to no good - it was a place forbidden by both man and God, ever since Adam and Eve's sin. I remember more vaguely that a stranger with a skull for a head helped him find the way. When he got there, he avoided the main gate with the angel with the flaming sword, and found a place where he could climb over the hedge. and he looked down into the garden, and saw... I can't tell you what he saw, because my small self was so overcome with the delicious forbidden of it all that I could not go on reading. I felt like I'd broken the lock to some terrible and secret sanctum, and that this story was not for my eyes. I was dying to read what happened next, but the storyteller had so thoroughly impressed on me that this was terrible and forbidden that I dared not. I... threw that book in the garbage, secretly. I think it was less that was I terrible prude as a child, and more that I had an openness to what I read that was capable of shaking me to the core. I wonder if I will ever find that book again one day? Hm. This is a tangent.

As for the story of how Number One got his immortality - now that's a good idea.

#Once again - thank you - thank you so much for the kind words.

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

8/9/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Jeremiah 7 - 9

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm Jill. Today is the 9th day of August. It's so great to be here with you. It's truly my joy and an absolute honor to be reading the word of God to us together in community and what a beautiful community you are, and this is. We are reading the book of Jeremiah. Today we're continuing the book of Jeremiah, reading chapters seven, eight and nine. And this week we're reading on the Christian Standard Bible. Jeremiah, chapter seven.

Commentary

Powerful words we read today from Jeremiah. Does it seem as if we've heard these before? Do they sound familiar? Yes. Are they starting to sound a little redundant? You got it. That might be the point, to start taking note of the countless times that the people have directly turned their back on God. And we can read this over and over again. And I have been part of all of the conversations where God in the Old Testament is how do you say this reverently? I don't want to go too far into this and then not be able to get out of it in just a few short minutes here. But I think it can be our tendency to hear this and think that God is just always angry and the words seem harsh. But when you start to consider how many times, how many years over this time period of the children of Israel being freed from Egypt as slaves, led into the Promised Land, generation after generation after generation of a people distinctly set apart for a greater purpose, and watching them forget, walk away, turn their back, reject God, find other gods. And God still graciously sends these prophets, these voices, to remind people who they are, where he's brought them from. I mean, how many times do we need to be reminded of who we are, of whose we are? And why do we need those reminders? We need them because we forget. Because our identity is continuously being attacked, being chipped away at, being robbed from us. And listen, we can certainly blame the evil one that comes to kill, steal and destroy, but we also need to take a long, hard look in the mirror and know that we are capable of life and death within the power that lies with every word that comes out of our mouth. If we're building up or tearing down, we can be just as guilty with each other, our brothers and sisters, within the body of Christ. We're not even talking about the outside world of unbelievers. I'm talking about a body of believers, a united body. Same God. We're worshipping the same God. My dad can beat up your dad, except for it's the same dad. So we were zoomed way out in the Old Testament. We just zoomed really close into our own lives to sort of just put this into perspective of why these words are familiar, why we have heard them, why we will probably hear them again. But the one point that I wanted to clearly make is, instead of focusing on the tone and the harshness of the words, maybe we can consider the fact of how many times God has sent a voice out, appointed a called man with a specific mission to lure a people back to him. And we hear the words today that we heard Moses say repeatedly earlier in the year, obey me and then I will be your God and you will be my people. I was talking with a friend the other day and she's going through a really difficult time and her injustice is that sometimes there are no rewards for rising above and doing the right thing and watching people make really bad decisions without any conscious, without any remorse and affecting so many people and watching them get away with it. And I'm pretty sure we maybe can all relate to that. And what struck me when I felt powerless to offer anything to her because I have thought very similar thoughts many times in my life is this while I agree with her and what she's saying. Where I think it matters most is when we lay our head down on our pillow at night and when we look in the mirror at the end of the day or at the beginning of a brand new day with a brand new mercy. When we look in the mirror and see who is staring back at us. Do we know that when we stand before God. Knowing that God sees and knows us and knows before we ask. Will he be pleased? Can we make our Father proud of our actions, of our words? Can we know that when other people are doing things that feel immoral and wrong and evil and they seemingly have no conscience, no remorse, no accountability for their actions, can we know that we are right with God, that he is pleased with us and that our conscience, our character, our integrity, our heart is right before God? Without blasting them, without calling them out, with making sure that they get the justice, the revenge that they get publicly called out and shamed and embarrassed. I mean, let's bring back tar and feathering, shall we? Can it be good enough for us stand before God to obey Him in our own personal life's decision and know that he is our God and we are his people?

Prayer

Lord, I want to say so many things in this prayer, but I need you to speak today. So Jesus, I pray that you can be enough to us, for us, in us. That obeying you, lets you be our God and we will be your people. Let that be enough for us today. Let us sit with the weight of those words today. I pray this now in the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, amen.

Announcements

Daily Audio Bible, that's homebase. That's the website. Check it out. If you have not. If you would like to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do so several different ways. We can't do this without you. So we are so eternally grateful for your partnership. If you're giving by mail DAB PO Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174. Or hit the Give icon up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. Lastly, look for the Give icon on the website. If you need prayer. Several different ways for you to do that as well. 800 583-2164. Or hit the red circle button on that app. You have two minutes on the prayer line, hit Submit, turn the wheel over to Chronological and it will get to the right place. It's going to do it for me today. I'm Jill, we'll turn the page together tomorrow and I look forward to it every day. Until then, love one another.

Community Prayer Line

Hey. D-A-B-C family, this is Danny from southern Oregon. I called in a prayer request the other day on the DAB. And put it on the prayer wall also. But I wanted my DABC family to please join with me in prayer for urgent prayer request for two year old Ben who is found floating in the family pool and he's currently on life support. They have weaned him off the sedation and he is blinking and he's sucking, but the doctors are not very hopeful. But we know that, we know the great white hope, right? We know that this is nothing for God, nothing is impossible for him, and we know that in the name of Jesus this boy can be completely healed. So please gather around me family and pray for this boy. Heavenly Father, we pray for your grace and Your mercy upon this boy, Lord. Just pray Lord, that you would just touch him, that you would heal him completely, that you would restore any damage that's been done to his brain, Lord, and that he would be dubbed a miracle, Lord, that this miracle would be to glorify you, to bring everybody closer to you, Lord, to point to you and Your goodness and Your mercy. Lord, we just pray that the family would just get on their knees, Lord, and give you praise and thanks for saving their son. Lord, I just pray that you would give wisdom to the doctors, that you would open their eyes to Your goodness also. And I just pray this boys miraculous full recovery healing in the name of Jesus. Thank you Lauren. Thank you.

Good morning, family. It's Ing from Denmark. I am calling today just out of pure appreciation. When I started listening to the DABC five years and a couple of months ago, it was hard for me to get into that daily routine to make time for it every day. So I often found myself catching up. And that has converted into today, where the first button I push in the morning is not that of the light bulb or the coffee maker or the radio, but that of the DABC. It has really become my daily bread. And that is thanks to you, Jill, you China, the two of you godly women working together with the Holy Spirit. You have opened the words to me in a completely new way with your commentaries, your prayers, and even with you reading the word in English, which is not even my language, but it's been so revealing and so amazing for me. So I just want to thank the two of you. I don't do it enough, but I do it barely in prayer. I actually don't know if I would do if this app disappeared. I know the word of God wouldn't. But there is something so special about the two of you and about the entire community in here. And I have a lot and a lot of readings that has a star and a lot of readings that I go back to. And so this morning, after listening to today, I went back to July 26. And Jill, I want to thank both of you for your transparency and your honesty and your round and your realness. And God, I just lift up Jill, who shares that she's recognizing signs that she's not doing well. God, that you will keep her and you will just fill her with your peace that surpasses all understanding. Give that to her, God, your precious daughter. Amen.

Hello. Daily Audio, bible chronological. This is Michael from London. Today is the 1 August, but I want to go back to the 29 July and I want to pray very quickly for Pat in Missouri and his son Arthur. Pat gave a very quick request, so I'm going to give a very quick prayer in response to his request for his son Arthur. And I want to read out revelation chapter two, verses four and five. And he says this but I have this one charge to make against you that you have left abandoned the love that you had at first. You have deserted me, your first love. Remember then from what heights you have fallen. Repent, change the inner man to meet God's will and do the works you did previously when you first knew the Lord. Lord also lifted up after you and him and his family. I pray in your mighty name, Lord God, that you just do a mighty work within them. That Lord, you will offer what he had left behind, what he had forgotten. His first love will be so prominent in his life. He will hit a revelation where he hears something. See something prompted to talk to his dad and ask. Dad. Why have I got this prompting to come back to the Lord and that his dad would give him the perfect answer that Lord God. He will come back to his first love. Him and his family. As Pat would have prayed many. Many years ago. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. We pray that will happen with Arthur and his family. So, Lord, we just lift them up to you right now. We just ask all God for revelation, a fundamental, strong revelation in Arthur's life. We're going to turn back to you, his first love artist, or when you're.

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 503

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 68: Teachers Of The Law 3

Gen 18:19 For I know him, that he will command his children and his household AFTER HIM, and they shall keep the way of the LORD, to do justice and judgment; that the LORD may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him. KJV

Generation To Generation 3

Apart from the responsibility of Fathers to Teach their Children, the Church of God must have in place an established structure of Teachers, well versed in Godly things, like Ezra.

Ezr 7:11 Emperor Artaxerxes gave the following document to EZRA, THE PRIEST AND SCHOLAR, WHO HAD A THOROUGH KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAWS AND COMMANDS WHICH THE LORD HAD GIVEN TO ISRAEL: GNB

It’s not just a handful of Men needed for this commission but as many as are available, who must be willing, adept and competent.

2Ti 2:2 And ALL THAT YOU’VE LEARNED FROM ME, confirmed by the integrity of my life, PASS ON TO FAITHFUL LEADERS WHO ARE COMPETENT TO TEACH the congregations THE SAME REVELATION. TPT

From one Generation to another, there must be Experts and Leaders, who have more than just cursory glances at the Word of God.

Many times you go to Church, you should learn New things from the Pastor who reads to you from the same Bible you are holding in your hands.

He is expected to know more and lead you into more fervent dedication to God.

Neh 8:2-3 So Ezra the priest brought the law before the assembly which included men and women and all those able to understand what they heard. (This happened on the first day of the seventh month.) So HE READ IT BEFORE THE PLAZA IN FRONT OF THE WATER GATE FROM DAWN TILL NOON before the men and women and those children who could understand. ALL THE PEOPLE WERE EAGER TO HEAR THE BOOK OF THE LAW. NET

There’s the place of reading - by divine Authority - but very sacrosanct to TEACH them also.

Neh 8:8 They read from the Book of the Law of God, DISTINCTLY COMMUNICATING ITS MEANING, SO THEY COULD UNDERSTAND THE READING. ISV

The importance of [Leading] Teachers cannot be overemphasized, as their absence could mean the derailment of a whole Generation of God’s people and failure of the Church.

Isa 30:20 The Lord may give you troubles and hardships. But YOUR TEACHER WILL NO LONGER BE HIDDEN FROM YOU. YOU WILL SEE YOUR TEACHER WITH YOUR OWN EYES. GW

But it’s not only human Teachers God meant here; the Holy Ghost is overall Teacher. Read:

Isa 30:21 IF YOU WANDER FROM THE RIGHT PATH, either to the right or to the left, YOU WILL HEAR A VOICE BEHIND YOU SAYING, "You should go this way. Here is the right way." ERV

Emphatically though, the same Spirit will reveal more to those in leadership positions.

So it is essential for the Church Leader to really seek God for deep understanding of His ways.

Jer 33:3 LET YOUR CRY COME TO ME, and I will give you an answer, and LET YOU SEE GREAT THINGS AND SECRET THINGS OF WHICH YOU HAD NO KNOWLEDGE. BBE

As a Teacher by calling myself, I have immense privilege of wonderful insights.

I simply have to ask and God opens my eyes and keeps me awestruck always. Sometimes I sit with 1 verse of scripture a whole day and get overwhelmed by illuminations too much to handle.

Ultimately though, it is not only Teachers or leaders that receive illuminations of the Word.

1Jn 2:20,27 But you have had the Holy Spirit poured out on you by Christ, and so all of you know the truth…But as for you, Christ has poured out his Spirit on you. As long as his Spirit remains in you, you do not need anyone to teach you. For his Spirit teaches you about everything, and what he teaches is true, not false. Obey the Spirit's teaching, then, and remain in union with Christ. GNB

This privilege has to be available for every single individual who becomes born again so that where we have no human Teacher [with integrity] available, the Teacher “inside” us can work as substitute or plan B.

Conventionally, the Holy Spirit works on both levels.

Joh 16:13 The Spirit shows what is true and will come and GUIDE YOU INTO THE FULL TRUTH. The Spirit doesn't speak on his own. He will tell you only what he has heard from me, and he will let you know what is going to happen. CEV

May the full Doctrine of God be revealed, and find full expression in you, IN JESUS NAME.

See you on Wednesday, as we proceed with this Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Monday, April 29, 2024

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