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adaptacy · 4 months

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A Found Flame {Pt.12}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

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A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating this super frequently, I lowkey forgot tumblr existed for a hot second. it's all up to date on AO3, but I'll get back into posting it on here too! Also, I have commissions up on my page! There's a link to an info post on my pinned :) could really use the extra money & I'm happy to write for ideas that y'all have!!

Word Count: 4.6k

The start of the morning went according to routine. Waking up at sunrise, fixing yourself and Tara breakfast, and tidying up the study before she awoke. While doing some light reading over a cup of hot coffee, you’re startled by a knock on the door. Soon your increased heart rate is not out of fear, but instead out of excitement. An eagerness to see a familiar face, somehow believing that he had managed to cut the trip down to only nine days. An incredible feat, but you certainly weren’t going to complain – you would be without him no more!

You’re quick to stand from the loveseat and rush for the front door, leaving the book you’d been reading on the table, far less interested in its contents when Gale had finally come back. You open the door – you don’t bother to call out, or ask who it might be, as you’re sure that you know who it is.

But Gale’s beard was certainly not that long. And not nearly as white. And his face was never as… old.

“Hello?” You stammer, caught off-guard by a completely unfamiliar elder, dressed in obvious wizard-esque attire, with a long orange and red robe and a matching hat that drapes behind him. He nods, smiling wearily and glancing behind you.

“The apprentice, I presume? I intend not to affright thee. Might you indulge an old man? I bear regards to Gale,” he speaks, his voice deep in the stereotypical elderly way, and you swear he’s far too old for a mortal human, but he looks plenty human.

“You know Gale?” You ask, hesitant to believe anything the man says, both due to your immediate disappointment that the door didn’t open to Gale, and because you know better than to immediately trust strangers.

“Indubitably. You may safely classify Gale and I as friends,” he confirms, and you realize that this may very well be Gale’s ‘old friend’ that he intended to visit. After all, he’s plenty old, and allegedly a friend. There is an instant pit in your stomach – If he is here, and notably lacking the company of your mentor, then something must be wrong.

You know that your worry shows on your face, but you don’t care. You step out of the way and pull the door open further, inviting him in. “Come in, please.” It takes a lot not to choke on your words, on your rising anxiety, on your terror. He enters, steps out of his boots, and makes his way to the study, not requiring any sort of direction – a confirmation that he’s likely who he says he is.

You follow, and he pauses in the middle of the study, motioning about the room. “A mighty toothsome abode this has become – cert ameliorated since I last bore tarriance.” He turns to look at you and waves a hand, a smile crossing his wrinkled features. “Compliments! Alas, I trekked not for flattery. Should thy curiosity bear uncertainty, I shall put to rest such indecision. Elminster Aumar, at your service.” He extends a hand, and you stare at it for a moment before ultimately taking it, and he gives it a firm shake, pushing dried wrinkles against your palm, before he drops his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Where is Gale? Is everything okay?” You question, desperately searching his eyes for answers, perhaps something more clear than his convoluted conversation will provide, but you find a barrier of blue wisdom, refusing you any peeks into his true nature.

“Enigmatic, the situation remains. Harrowing dawns are upon us, I fear. Mystra sanctioned the deliverance of a memorandum most paramount,” he sighs, and you frown, simultaneously trying to decipher his statements and search for assurance that Gale is okay. You don’t particularly succeed at either. “Cognizant am I of his absenteeism, inclusive of thy enlistment to the abecedarian chosen’s – ah, erstwhile chosen’s – service. A most discommodious concatenation has seized the deliberation of the Gods.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, but when he doesn’t speak anymore, you shake your head, narrowing your eyes. “I’m… not understanding.”

He tuts, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes, sighing yet again. “Apologies. I come bearing a–”

“By Mystra’s mercy!” Tara yowls, her tail stiffening and puffing as she emerges from Gale’s room, anxiously glancing Elminster up and down, her head shaking and her wings twitching. “Elminster Aumar? Oh, dear – whatever trouble has my wizard gotten into?”

Elminster looks at Tara, and he smiles nervously, dipping his head once more. “Tara, dearest, a delight to see you.” He clears his throat, addressing you once more, and Tara comes to rub against your calf, taking a seat between your ankles and looking up at the old man. “I desiderate not to impose you, but to entrust to you a message. A consideration, on Mystra’s part, to offer Gale redemption.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you feel Tara’s fur bristle against your skin, both of your guards up. “Redemption? I don’t understand – where is Gale?”

“I know not his precise locale. Hence my emergence in Waterdeep. It is in your hands I allocate his discovery. Tara – grant me aplomb, will you?”

Her tail swishes, brushing over the ground in mild irritation, or perhaps worry – maybe even a combination of both. “I can find him, Elminster. Rest assured.”

“Most meritorious. Upon reconciliation, I ask you to inform him of the following. It is imperative that he understands the false deity he faces is far more dangerous than he may possibly conceive. It threatens the gods, the realm, the universe itself. Mystra believes only he is capable of its thorough destruction.” His voice is tainted with regret – as if he is apologetic for the goddess’ message. He reaches into his robe, presenting a tightly tied scroll, and you take it from him, though don’t dare to open it. “If he complies, the spell contained within that scroll will put a halt to the orb’s impending implosion. A temporary fix – all too temporary indeed. He must find the heart, and obey the ritual.”

“False deity? Threatening the gods – the ‘heart’? What are you on about?” You let out an exhale that borders on the edge of a confused, overwhelmed whine, your head shaking in an attempt to dispel the oncoming migraine.

“Set out as quickly as you can. The realm battles against time. He will understand, even if you do not.” He shakes his own head, inhaling slowly, as if to steady himself. “My sincerest apologies, child. Had I any choice in the matter, you would not be my target of burden. Alas, you know him well, and the trust is mutual. I have little time – Mystra beckons me afresh. I may only bestow upon you luck. And the best of luck it is.”

. . .

“So, he is her chosen?” You ask, sorting through Gale’s desk as you collect two pouches of gold, dropping them into a quickly-filling traveling pack.

“Has been for many a century. Oh, I do so hope to be absolved of my misery at a quicker rate than that. To live for a millenia – isn’t it plain dreadful?” She mews, kneading at the cushion of the loveseat across the room from you.

You close the drawer that you’d been sifting through, opening a different drawer filled with quills, as well as a dagger that has gone unused for longer than you’ve known Gale. You don’t have any intentions of using it, but you’re smart enough to know better than to travel unarmed. “Did you understand anything he said? All of that about Mystra and the ‘huge threat’, or whatever he called it?”

“Hardly, though I rarely concern myself with the affairs of gods. Once we find Mr. Dekarios, he will explain all. He won’t want to risk the clawing that would come with keeping us in the dark about whatever he is up to,” she replies, stretching out her back and jumping off of the couch, approaching you before hopping onto the desk, inspecting the bag you were packing. “My, quite the pile of gold you’ve acquired, dear.”

“Well, yeah. We’ll need to afford rations for the trip, there’s no telling how long it will take, and probably transportation, and–”

“Hah!” She meows, amused at your statement. “Nonsense. The trip will be a short one. With my purrrfect nose, we’ll find him in a whisker’s twitch.”

“We’ll still need to travel to him, though.”

“Ah. With my trusty sense of smell, my unbridled connection to my darling humanoid, and a sprinkling of conjuration magic, we’ll be in the… general area of Mr. Dekarios,” she assures, sticking her head into the bag and biting the tip of a gold pouch, removing it and dropping it onto the desk. “Let’s leave some inheritance for our return, yes?”

“Wait – we can just… appear there? Like, teleporting?” You chuckle in surprise, a little baffled that it would be that easy.

“Well, thirty-two years of companionship doesn’t go without its benefits! Aside from the self-warming bed, of course. I know Mr. Dekarios better than he knows himself. I’ll find him, don’t you fret. Elminster emphasized the urgency of the situation, so I best be referring to a few studies on transpositional spells. We should depart before the evening. Will you be ready?”

You think over what else you need to do, or pack, and eventually nod. “Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Delightful,” she praises, hopping off of his desk once more and walking towards his room. She pauses, however, to look behind herself at you, her ears twitching. “Do bring along some of that salmon, would you? As much as I enjoy hunting the occasional mouse, we’ve larger missions to sink our claws into.”

“Of course. I’ll even cut it up into squares,” you tease, and she lets out a loud purr in response, satisfied with your answer. Tara disappears into his room, and you return to your packing, picking up the backpack and leaving the study, immediately preparing the salmon before you risk forgetting. You slice it into squares as you’ve been doing for the past few days, and then place those squares on a sheet of parchment paper, rolling it up and securing it before you tuck it into your bag.

Knowing that you have very little hunting experience, you make sure to grab plenty of rations for yourself, as well, though find that the bag is getting quite full. You suppose the several changes of clothes are mostly at fault for that, and you have to sacrifice two sets in order to fit what you believe will keep you fed for at least a few days. Maybe less, should you need to share with Gale, but you’d be happy enough to have found him, you doubt you’ll have room for complaints.

When you return to the study, you can hear Tara muttering incantations in the next room over, and you decide better than to risk interrupting her. You would pick out a book to keep you company, but you doubt you have the room for that, and as Tara said, you’d probably have your hands full for the next few days. Instead, you take a seat by the unlit fireplace, allowing yourself a few minutes to think – to properly process everything that has been dumped onto you in a morning. Truly, it would be nice if ‘grand reveals’ were a little more spaced out, or had some build up to them. Alas, you were smacked with concerning news flashes that rattled you for a morning, or a single conversation, and then you were promptly dropped in a sea of confusion, left to teach yourself how to swim.

How unfair.

Thanks in part to Elminster’s intensely coded and decorated speech mannerisms, you have no clue what you should expect. On the bright side, it seemed quite assured that he was not dead. Mystra would certainly know if he was – not only because of her familiarity with him, but likely that her connection to the weave within him would draw her immediate attention, should that connection be severed, or… exploded.

She was rather audacious, if you had to be honest. To abandon him in his time of need, to leave him wandering and hurting after everything he tried to do for her, was one issue, and a plenty large enough issue on its own. But now for her to suddenly call upon him for a mission because she felt threatened? Oh, the gall.

You couldn’t tell if it was incredibly serious because she’d called on a mortal to do her bidding, or if it was incredibly un-serious, because she had called on a mortal to do her bidding! She, a goddess, the weave incarnate, the mistress of magic, couldn’t take care of a threat to the entire universe, but Gale Dekarios, a middle-aged, objectively gauche and reclusive wizard, was capable of such victory?

It was the orb. It had to be. In no world did Gale naturally have such power at his fingertips. Even so, the weave within him is only a fraction of Mystra. Surely she is stronger? Surely she can cast such destruction tenfold, should she be so inclined.

…Right?

Gale was not more powerful than Mystra. Nobody could be – not via the weave, anyways. Gale wasn’t even on a similar level to Mystra. He had a fraction – a fraction – of her power. Didn’t he? That’s what he’d told you.

You recall your own experience – pulling energy with the orb as your source. The split second of unforeseen power that you felt, that surged through you as if it was you. In that moment, you’d believed yourself unbeatable. All-powerful. An irrational thought, you’re aware, and yet such possibility intrigues.

If Mystra controlled the weave, couldn’t she remove the orb? According to Elminster, she’s capable of pausing it, and yet it remains latched and active within his body. She had to have her reasons. Mystra would not turn down the ability to be even stronger without good reason.

Again, you return to your memory – the quiet calm of the orb, paired with Gale’s utter terror. It makes you think.

Is Mystra scared of it?

“Are you quite ready?” Tara peeks her head out from Gale’s bedroom, and you quickly stand, putting on your boots and nodding, grabbing your backpack from the loveseat. You follow her into Gale’s bedroom, where a swirling purple and black vortex awaits you.

“We’ll be able to return, right?”

“Oh, of course,” she reassures, and you relax, stepping closer to the portal. You feel her rub against your ankle, and she outstretches her wings, yawning. Jumping to fly behind you, she perches on your shoulder, her tail bumping against your back. “With the assistance of a horse, but a return is a return, yes?”

You cringe, a little less sure, but give an affirmative shrug nonetheless. “Right. Here goes, I guess.”

“Prepare your feathers, dear – a quick trip through the cosmos and we’ll surely be on his doorstep! Or… somewhere in the vicinity.”

With that, and a nod at one another, you step through the portal, having to rely on your trust in Tara to recite the spell correctly and not land you in a heap of trouble.

– – –

He’d left the ruckus of the party behind him, the noise from drunken singing and laughing a little too much for him to bear. And far too sweet of an opportunity. A perfect distraction – as if it had been curated for him. He did deserve it, didn’t he?

He’d worked so hard. Slain so many goblins. Thoroughly exhausted himself, dirtied his daggers and saved lives. Heroes, they named them. As if his intentions were entirely pure – as if he felt empathy for the tieflings, as if he’d been pushed to act in their honor, as if he cared.

The wine was tolerable, at least. The company not so much. Drunk and dry. Below his standards, and far too chatty.

The boars were better than the rats. Had more sustenance to them – a little more flavor. More of a kick, too, as small as their legs were. Alas, he was hungry, and ever-so-greedy. Perhaps he’d find a deer. Or another boar – it wasn’t too wretched of an idea. If he had to compromise, he wasn’t entirely opposed to it. Hardly a fan, but blood was, ultimately, blood. A boar would hold him off for another day or two. A deer, though? Oh, certainly a week.

He finds himself traveling deeper and deeper into the forest. The party, ringing through the trees around their little clearing, scaring off the prey he so helplessly yearned for. What insatiable hunger. A hindrance, a terrible flaw, a godsforsaken craving – until he satisfied it, at least.

However temporary the satisfaction, it made the carnal desires, the churning desperation, the withdrawals – all of it, worth it, for a little while. Few things came close to the sensation of blood running down his neck, washing him inside and out, fulfilling his bone-chilling needs.

How clueless his companions remained. It granted him fragmented amusement, witnessing their utter hopelessness – gave him the slightest rushes of power, of pride. Of security. To know, and to trust, that his secret remained just that, all thanks to his carefully plucked words, his controlled smiles, his flawless manipulation. Even his kills were tidy –

Well, save for the first boar, that is. Not that they’d picked up on it, fortunately, but he supposes he could have cleaned that one up a little better. He’d been desperate, and practically starved. Trekking about in unfamiliar lands was so incredibly exhausting. Especially when he was forced to sweat under the heat of the sun – not to say he didn’t enjoy walking freely under the sun, of course he did, but the sweat he could do without.

And slaying was even more taxing on his body. Swinging, dashing, dodging – oh, catching prey used to be so easy.

At least he did it for himself now. Made the burdens far easier to bear. Free will was such a luxury, wasn’t it?

Astarion pauses, hearing movement ahead of him. He can’t hear the noise of the party anymore, nor can he see the lights, and he’s sure that his prey lies close. So he sticks closer to the denser parts of the forest, hugging every shadow that he can, moving with them as one as though he’s Baldur Gate’s best trained assassin, or a panther, slinking about the underbrush, eyes on a darling, oblivious gazelle.

He smells a fire, and then he hears quiet chattering –

A person.

His heart flutters, his fangs practically ache, and he realizes that settling for a boar would be a horrific lowball. Unfair – unfair to him.

He deserves better. He deserves real prey. He deserves payment for two-hundred years spent in a hell personalized for him. He deserves payment for having his freedom robbed from him. He deserves payment for freeing those poor, defenseless tieflings.

He deserves payment. Retribution.

He deserves real blood. Sweet blood. Thick, terrified blood – crying blood, pleading blood. Blood with a life. Blood with a soul. Blood with a personality.

Better him than a wolf, or a bear. Better fangs in the neck than claws across the torso, surely. He’d be doing this stranger a mercy. Maybe he’ll even be gentle. Maybe he’ll be kind – maybe, he’ll be the hero that the tieflings claim he is.

But he is hungry. And he is weary. And he can smell them, smell a meal, smell satisfaction. It is yards away, and he is closing in, and his fingers twitch, and he is silent. The grass does not betray him, no sticks dare to sneak under his steps, not a leaf crunches under his weight.

He is being given what he deserves, at last.

No – he is offered no gifts. Every step is a careful one, every stick is dodged, every leaf is tip-toed over.

He is taking what he deserves.

He creeps closer, finding someone getting ready for rest, curled up alone on a bedroll, unaware of the danger lurking mere feet away. They smell sweet – innocent. Had he any less dignity, he’d positively be salivating, closer to an excited mutt than an ex-magistrate. However far he’s fallen, he cares not.

His mind belongs not to him, but to his need, to his cravings, to the yearning of his fangs. He watches them, their eyes closed, but he’s sure they’re awake; moments ago, they shifted their makeshift blanket, ensuring perfect comfort.

He hopes it’s an adequate final resting place.

In an instant, he’s pounced, and he kneels beside them, a hand firmly clasped over their mouth as their eyes widen and they writhe, making his own blood rush. He shushes them, feigning some care for their comfort, but he knows that the more terrified they are, the quicker their heart beats, and the more blood that will be pumped directly into his mouth.

His other hand tangles in their hair, and he yanks them up, his mouth opening as he eyes their neck, and at last, he bites down, earning a pained squeal from his victim.

It is magnificent.

Perfect, sweet with a kick, and it warms him, far better than any blood he’s ever tasted. Animals are no match. When blood like this exists, blood that makes him feel like royalty, blood that makes him twitch, blood that consumes his mind as he consumes–

“Fiend!” A feminine voice hisses, and Astarion feels claws rake across his face, earning a hiss from himself as he stumbles off of the victim, dreadfully yanked away from his meal. That meal clutches their neck, and Astarion finds that his assailant is a winged cat, her fur standing on end, her tail thick and bristled, claws unsheathed and prepared to strike again.

“Bloody hells! What is wrong with you?!” His victim cries out, and Astarion’s eyes linger on the blood trailing down their neck, pooling in the crevice of their collarbone, painting them a perfect feast–

Once more, claws strike across his nose, and he growls, backing away an extra step and looking between his victim and the tabby. Despite his urges, and his concern for allowing a victim to escape, he recoils and retreats, believing it to be better to return to camp rather than expel any more energy in a battle.

After all, it’s quite unlikely for the pair to stay in these woods when they’re aware of a vampire on the loose – They’d have to be positively insane to stick around.

– – –

It’d been too long since he’d indulged in the bittersweet sting of wine, and he’d made up for lost time tonight. Several glasses deep, as a matter of fact, and his mind was entirely distracted from any pressing matters, and certainly drawn away from the impending regret to follow the next morning.

The river bank they camped by was perhaps the most peaceful place he’d found thus far. So it was on the bank that he sat, not minding the tickle of sand, too focused on the quiet, buried sound of the water slowly running past. Buried, that was, underneath the sound of the off-tune singing and chattering of his companions and their guests, the tieflings they’d rescued.

It isn’t half the view, but it reminds him of Waterdeep. Reminds him of the view from the balcony – the one he could share with them, no matter the time of day, or night. The breeze here was slight, but it’s enough to make him reminisce on the salty breeze he had grown so used to. The kind that’s just chilly enough to allow for him to pull them closer, wrapping an arm around their shoulder in mock defense of the cold and be safe from any possible accusations about ulterior motives. Gods forbid he be pushed to answer for what exactly his feelings on them were – he hardly knew, and he doubted anyone else, especially them, would be capable of understanding.

Tara called it love. Tara also had quite the habit of getting ahead of herself. He enjoyed their company, that was certainly a given, but toleration was quite different from love. Albeit, he was beyond simply tolerating them, but it still hardly called for such an extreme adjective. He was not, and still is not, a man who is searching for love. Even if he did possess such feelings for them – which was wildly unlikely – he wouldn’t be able to act upon such feelings. Gods, he didn’t want to even imagine the embarrassment that would follow any kind of confession from his end. Perhaps even worse, the accusations. He had not taken them in so he could pursue any kind of an intimate relationship with them. He had not mentored them with such intentions in play.

Gale knows his concerns are reasonable, and completely justified. Any such unforeseen flattery would put too heavy a damper on what they already had; a perfectly innocent business relationship, perhaps even one more akin to a professor and his student. The kind of relationship that absolutely did not, under any circumstances, have room for romantics.

Anyways, he harbored no longing for them. So it mattered none. Whatever limitations he had firmly set in his mind were not going to become tainted with regret, because there was nothing to regret. Nothing more to wish for. He yearned for survival, nothing else. Certainly not them.

Likely, the wine was to blame – mixing unpleasantly with the tadpole in his head, causing his thoughts to branch off into unsavory places. The wine and the scenery. Wishing for them, now, meant nothing. Being calmed by the waking dream of their presence beside him, it was nothing more than a result of his exhaustion from the day’s events. What little peace he experienced now, he wished he could share with them. But that was not due to love, he was a perfectly sane man, and sane men don’t fall in love with their apprentices. Unreasonable – that’s all it was. Unreasonable to miss more than their company. Unreasonable to allow himself to crave their touch, to dream of the sound of their voice.

Unreasonable to revisit the feeling of their weight in his arms, carrying them back to bed after they’d fallen asleep in the study, resting so comfortably against his chest. It had been unreasonable for him to hold them for a few moments more, despite standing beside their bed, knowing he should set them down.

Unreasonable for his mind to drift in this moment, the wine barely being strong enough for him to blame his less chaste thoughts on, conjuring up other scenarios in which he might feel their weight against his body, close and gentle, or what sorts of noises he may be able to pull from them when his hands are allowed to roam their body freely. The expressions that may come across their face, acting entirely on reactions to his saccharine teasing, playing them much like he would a lute, capable of plucking their strings enough to form only the most blissful of melodies. How pleasant such an encounter would–

“The fun is coming to an end.”

Gale’s eyes open quickly, and he finds himself gripping the base of his chalice rather tightly, causing him to gulp and forcefully relax, sitting up and turning his attention to Shadowheart, a glass of her own in her hand. He nods, cracking an awkward smile and raising an eyebrow. “Is it?”

She nods, motioning with her cup back towards the main gathering space of their camp. “Indeed. Assumed you’d want to say some goodbyes. Perhaps accept another round of praise. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

Gale scoffs, shaking his head and rising to his feet. “Nonsense. I was merely enjoying the quiet. Past time I submitted to sleep – fear I’ve gotten well-too deep in our wine supply for one night,” he chuckles, and Shadowheart dips her head and raises her glass in agreement, returning to the fading festivities alongside him.

#shadowheart bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #bg3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tara the tressym #bg3 companions #shadowheart

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livechristcentered · 2 months

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Finding Strength in Adversity: Reflection on Psalm 3

1 Lord, how many are my foes!How many rise up against me!2 Many are saying of me,“God will not deliver him.”3 But you, Lord, are a shield around me,my glory, the One who lifts my head high.4 I call out to the Lord,and he answers me from his holy mountain.5 I lie down and sleep;I wake again because the Lord sustains me.6 I will not fear though tens of thousandsassail me on every side.7 Arise,…

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noroi1000 · 10 months

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Mistress of magic

Gojo x Zatanna Zatara reader

@00aw

Summary: A very strong Sorcerer appeared on the battlefield. Someone stronger than Gojo and Sukuna. However, you are so nice and kind to him. You don't want him to die. That's why you help him.

Mistress of magic.

Sorceress supreme.

A person who was thought to be only a fairy tale was called variously.

Nobody has ever met this person.

According to people who knew about this person, there are different dimensions. And she lives in one of them. Mistress of magic. A very powerful sorcerer whose powers cannot be compared to anyone else's.

Apparently, this person can appear suddenly, and destroy everything that disturbs the peace.

Because too much energy released is bad. Destruction and death.

According to some people, it is a divine being that looks at everything from the heavens. Some believe that this is a legendary figure who lived in ancient times, or even earlier.

Great strength and abilities. Something no one would even dream of.

Many possibilities.

However, such a person with such powers was considered a sorcerer.

A female sorcerer whose cursed energy was so powerful to accomplish all this.

Healing, teleportation, protection, attacks. All at once. In one person.

Mystical and cosmic forces.

Everything that anyone can dream of.

A power that could not be matched by the strongest sorcerer in all life on earth.

The origin of this person was unknown.

Or whether she exists.

But according to the stories and conjectures, this person will appear at the moment when humanity will need it.

He will come out of the shadows to suppress the evil that threatens people.

Nobody knows when. Nobody knows how...

But it was thought so.

Few people knew about this story.

But apparently some sorcerers read this story from the stars. And tarot cards and all the others have always confirmed this message.

Although no one believed, supposedly at a very important moment for humanity, their deliverance will appear.

And the Sorceress supreme will come to save people from death.

Cursed energy is negative energy.

But a person with so much energy to do so much good is a wonderful person.

Easily protect, attack and heal. move.

The woman who appeared in the sky right after shattering the barrier of the domain of the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer seemed to have this ability.

Her cut skin regenerated very quickly.

Slash protection appeared around her.

And also something came to attack the attacker.

So that the woman would later disappear and appear in another place.

Her hair waved in the wind as great amounts of cursed energy floated around her.

Seeing and feeling this person, the men stopped fighting for a moment.

You looked at them questioningly.

So it was a fight of the fittest?

You should stop it... So many people have already lost their lives in this place.

Everything was showing you which one was the bad guy.

You flew down to stand next to the tall White Haired man.

And suddenly you put your hand on his forearm, causing all his wounds to heal.

However, more slashes came later, which you deflected, knocking invisible blades away from his body.

They can't win against you.

They can't even think of fighting you.

Your aura is so overwhelming.

It hits them hard and makes their bodies want to twist.

That white-haired man must need some help. Even though you feel he's powerful. You will help him to end it as soon as possible.

You don't want someone who kills for fun to win.

Since he's fighting to defeat him, you can help him.

"What's your name?" You asked with a small smile, looking at him.

You looked so nice. Even though you could probably beat them both at once.

You were so nice to him...

"Gojo Satoru." He replied, looking out of the corner of his eye at the opponent with tattoos. "And you...?"

"(y/n) (l/n)." you smiled harder.

Your smile was so warm even though the chill of death hung in the air.

However, when he was standing next to you, he felt that warmth.

The warmth of safety. Assurance that everything will be fine.

Is this how his disciples felt next to him? He was the strongest and beat everyone. Was this the feeling of peace his disciples felt when he came?

Because now he was the one feeling it. Next to you.

You gave him such peace of mind. A sense of unwavering security.

Because you are definitely stronger than them.

His six eyes told him so.

He wouldn't want you on Sukuna's side. Because if that happened, the world would fall.

You looked at the black-haired man suddenly and uttered something incomprehensible.

And around the sky there was an energy that tried to crush him. It was as if his body was trying to catch demons.

However, he escaped.

You said something again, and the rubble around him lifted up, hitting him with all its might.

Even if he could do the same, your attack was more powerful.

Each scrap was soaked with cursed energy that hitting Sukun did not give him a chance to escape.

He could dodge, but he couldn't escape.

Gojo had heard of such power before. So much more powerful.

His ancestor is Michizane Sugawara. Powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer.

However, there was someone else, more powerful.

Even before that person.

The first user of such a powerful power.

In each generation, one child inherited this power.

However, just like all around, there are fewer sorcerers in the world now than before.

Finding the offspring of the strongest female sorcerer was difficult.

Until suddenly you appeared.

A descendant of the mighty Zatanna Zatara.

You have all that power.

And you will use it to help him.

Because despite the monstrous strength you possess, he feels kindness in you. You're so nice.

Is it possible that he might fall in love?

Because you're so nice to him and deadly to Sukuna.

You treat him, you care about healing him.

Thanks to you, he didn't waste his energy healing him.

So he could lead the fight.

You didn't know your opponent exactly because you just arrived here.

But you've learned your partner's skill in combat.

He really is powerful.

You managed to synchronize your movements so that you didn't accidentally hit him.

You didn't know their abilities, but your opponent stayed away from you.

Sukuna felt the energy emanating from you.

And it was terrifying that he could even shiver when he felt your cursed energy.

You suddenly appeared behind him.

And his body automatically ran away from you.

In order not to be close to this danger.

And then he was vulnerable to Gojo's punches, his blood dripping down his face again.

As you reached out to reach him before his flesh was cut even more, a flame flew to you.

Your energy set up a barrier, but then your body was pulled aside.

And suddenly you had your arms around a white-haired man standing a few meters from your opponent with you in his arms.

"I didn't know you had no respect even for those stronger than you." he said to the black-haired man with the tattoos.

"You're talking about yourself? Funny." He laughed, ready to attack.

"I'm talking about her."

He sent you a smile.

And then he jumped back to avoid the cuts.

Even if nothing happened to you, he couldn't just watch Sukuna throw attacks at you.

Instinctively, he pulled you away. Because I don't think anyone would want their combat companion to be attacked.

He held you in his arms in the most comfortable position for him.

As his hands tightened on your body, you felt a small blush appear on your cheeks.

He jumped back from the attacks, and when you saw his face appearing with blood oozing wounds, you set up a barrier between the two of you, sending to Sukuna a unknown technique that gave you some peace.

His eye was closed, but later you noticed that the eye he thought he closed was actually cut. Cut out.

You brought your hands up to his face, placing your fingers on his cheeks.

His eye looked at you, slightly widened.

And you healed him by watching his face return to normal.

"Better now." You mumbled with a smile.

He also gave you a warm smile in which you could see the personality of this man.

Funny and a bit childish. Hurt by life and also caring for others.

His behavior showed it.

You suddenly hugged him.

And you wanted to promise everything will be fine because you will help him defeat him.

#jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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propheticeve · 5 months

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Mediumship in Children

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As young minds navigating a world still infused with magic and wonder, children often find themselves immersed in experiences that adults may hastily categorize as flights of fancy. Imaginary friends become companions with whom we share secrets, and late-night conversations with unseen entities may be shrugged off as mere dreams. Sleepwalking and talking in our sleep become quirks, and visions or perceptions beyond the ordinary are brushed aside.

However, the truth lies in the purity of a child's perception. Children, closer to the divine source, possess an unfiltered lens through which they see the world. Their innate connection to spirituality allows them glimpses into dimensions beyond the tangible. Sadly, societal norms and the limitations of adult understanding often lead to the dismissal of these experiences as products of an overactive imagination.

In reality, these childhood encounters may be early manifestations of mediumship—the ability to bridge the gap between the seen and the unseen. Mediumship in children is not a flight of fancy; it is a profound connection to spiritual realms that adults may have long forgotten.

If your childhood was marked by unexplainable events and encounters, it's possible that you were attuned to energies and dimensions beyond the grasp of conventional understanding. The stories you may have dismissed as fanciful tales could be glimpses into a world that transcends the visible.

This article is an acknowledgment and a call to those who, as children, experienced the extraordinary. It's an invitation to reconsider those dismissed memories and recognize them as early expressions of a divine gift—mediumship. For within the innocence of childhood lies a reservoir of spiritual connection waiting to be reawakened.

As a child growing up on Agatha Drive in Alabama, my world was adorned with the peculiar presence of two companions—Pecan and Chanoklia. These were not your average imaginary friends; they were as real to me as the Alabama sun that kissed our backyard. It's intriguing how the memories flood back now, considering that once we relocated, their playful presence vanished from my life.

Pecan and Chanoklia were more than figments of my imagination; they were brother and sister, light brown-skinned, with flowing hair—kindred spirits to my six-year-old self. Together, we embarked on adventures, crafting mud pies and swinging beneath the towering trees. Evenings were filled with whispered conversations, and they would turn on the TV for me, a tangible act that defied the conventional understanding of imaginary friends.

My mother, however, would insist that Pecan and Chanoklia were mere products of my imagination, not dwelling in the tangible realm. Despite her assurances, one night etched itself into my memory—the night Pecan reached across the veil of reality to turn on the TV. It was a moment that defied explanation, a confirmation that the boundaries between the seen and the unseen were more porous than I could comprehend.

Another vivid recollection takes me to a playful game of peek-a-boo with my dad. Underneath the protective cover of bedsheets, I engaged in the classic childhood game. Yet, on the third reveal, an ominous shadow, not my father's, reached out to me. Abruptly lifting the sheet, I found my father innocently ironing his clothes across the room, leaving me to confront a reality that transcended the ordinary.

The spiritual mysteries persisted, intertwined with the rituals of my mother's deliverance sessions at church. I witnessed spirits departing from those she fervently prayed for, a phenomenon both captivating and bewildering. And then, there was the enigma of second grade—an inexplicable moment where, after descending a yellow slide, I found myself simultaneously standing by the swingset, observing my own descent.

These childhood mysteries were not the products of an overactive imagination; they were glimpses into a reality that eludes conventional understanding. Pecan, Chanoklia, the shadow in the bedsheet, and the spectral observer by the swingset—all are fragments of a tapestry woven with the threads of the seen and the unseen.

In the intricate dance between adulthood and childhood, there's often a disheartening interference with the innate spirituality and untarnished purity of children. The seeds of fear and self-doubt, sown by well-meaning adults, can sprout into major obstacles, hindering a person's ability to connect with the spiritual realm. Fear becomes a potent root, giving rise to spiritual attachments that obscure one's perception of the spirit world.

It's awe-inspiring to recognize that certain children possess an inherent ability to see and communicate with spirits. This revelation offers a profound insight into the thinness of the veil that separates our physical reality from the spiritual realm. The key to this connection lies in the purity that children embody—a purity unburdened by the complexities and influences of the adult world.

As grown-ups, the journey back to this state of purity becomes a significant undertaking. The world's imprint on our consciousness necessitates dedicated time and shadow work, a process of introspection and self-discovery. The profound truth lies in the fact that children, in their unspoiled innocence, become our true teachers. The pathway forward entails revisiting the essence of a child, embracing that untainted connection with the spiritual.

If you observe signs of mediumship within your child, consider it a unique opportunity for growth—for them and for you. Cultivate and nurture these innate gifts, accompanying them on a journey of understanding and exploration. The goal is not merely to guide them but to learn alongside them, fostering an environment where they can freely express and live within their extraordinary gift.

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Follow my social media Below for more interesting Hoodoo and esoteric facts, courses, and services!

@conjuhwoeman on twitter for my daily thoughts and downloads

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Be sure to support My Mind and Me inc and Temple of Living Word LLC project The Peoples Praise House where we are raising a Building Fund for our home fot ATR practitioners to practice freely!

#hoodoo #medium #witch #ancestor veneration #rootwork #black women #conjure #prophet #tutnese #luxury #mediumship

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hazashiovo · 1 year

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Imagine being Aemonds enemy yet biggest obsession.

TW!dark themes, yandere tendencies, sicko Aemond, rap3 Mention!, injury, bastard!reader, suicide! Mention

After Viserys's death and your mother's loss of baby, the news of the throne beeing usurped by Aegon didn't sit right with you nor your family at all. You love your mother and know she deserves the throne she worked so hard for, it's not like you also have a deep hatred for the Greens.

Soon enough your mother decided to send you and Jacaerys for allies, you offered to go instead of your little brother. You got on your dragons back and left for Storms end.

The ride was long but you and Ghost managed to get there in a day and half a night.

Finally landing, you look around. A loud is heard, Vhagar.If the huge dragon is here it means her vicious rider must also be here.

You and Aemond never got along, or that's what you like to think.You only started hating each other after the accident.You defended Lucerys when he mutilated Aemonds face , you knew Luke was guilty, but as his older sister it was your duty to protect and defend him.

Wich also means Aemond is here on his brother's behalf.

You quickly make your way to Lord Baratheon to hand him the letter your mother sent you here for.

The guards open the door for you one you identified your self , letting you in. You make your way to the dark hall , wich at the end Lord Baratheon sits down.

You search the room and notice the prying eye of Aemond Targaryen. The man who wants you dead most likely.

-Lord Boros, I come here on behalf on my mother,the rightfull Queen of the Iron Throne.-

Your eyes meet Aemonds once you said that, letting him know you're no longer the little kid he used to know.

You hand over the letter to one of Lord Baratheon's servants, wich he quickly deliveres.

-Curious, not to long ago I received a messenger from the King-

Aemond doesn't even hide the way he strips you naked from skin to bone in his vile imagination.

-wich is it? A Queen or a king after all? -

You don't fail to notice the way you're being stared at by the Second prince, he gives you the creeps.

-The house of the dragon can't seem to know who rules it-

Boris continues as in mocking your mother and you at the same time.He chuckles.

-what message does she have for me?-

You hand over the letter to a servant, who quickly delivers it, He than not so nicely calls for the Maester, the idiot can't read.

Aemond stares at you as if you killed his whole family, To reasure yourself you grip the dagger seated at your hip hoping to ease you a bit, wich it didn't since he smirked.

The long silence was then broken by Lord Boros's angry voice.

-Remind, me, of my fathers oath? -

God how you hate his attitude. He then continues.

-King Aegon at least came with a betrothal offer, what does your mother have to offer child? -

His arogant voice rings thought the large hall.

You were a bit shocked to hear that Aegon sent with a betrothal, you know he's already married to poor sweet Haelena, wich gives you a reason more to hate him, so that leaves...

That's why Aemonds here, once you make eye contact with him he smirks, an icy look on his face.

-My Lord, I'm already betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, wich I cannot take in of your sons as Husbands I can assure you an alliance with my mother would treat you better rather than the usurper that Westeros is calling king. -

You confidently stated, looking at Boros than at Aemond.

Aemond wasn't pleased with the information he received, why didn't he know about this? Are his spies completely usseles?

He clenched his jaw in anger, he wasn't jealous, he despises you. Why would he be jealous of a bastard that doesn't belong to him, neither does he wish for, at least that's the little lies he fills his head with. He likes to think he will own you to make you suffer for what your brother did to him. Aemond finds it easy to blame you than a small child, imagine how pathetic it is to lose your eye to your nephew.

-So not only you come empty handed, you also insult the king of Westeros? -

Boros leans forward a bit on his chair, looking insulted.

-Leave, child. -

He waves you of as if you only wasted his time.You decided not to fight it anymore, as you were sent a messager not a fighter by your mother. You nod and turn around ready to head to dragon stone.

- I shall tell my mother the side you picked , my Lord. -

You chose to leave it that way and leave for home.

-Wait.-

The unfamiliar voice perked st your ears. You stopped in your tracks even tho your instincts were telling you to keep moving.

-My Strong Lady,-

Aemonds offensive voice made it's way to your ears.

-i tolerated enough slander you trew at me and my brothers ,my prince..-

You clenched your fists , not wishing to spend one more second there.

He smirked.

-Did you really think you could fly above the realm as a traitor to the crown?-

-Trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?

He continued.

You tolerated enough, especially when it's about your mother who you love and respect.

-My mother is he true Queen, I can say the same about you, my prince. -

You defend, venom lacing your voice in the last part of your sentence.

-the difference is my mother doesn't drink herself to death and share whores most of her time, unlike a known somebody.-

You glare at Aemond for daring to disrespect your mother.

-But today is not the day we fight, prince Aemond, I'm not here to start a war I cannot end, or take your other eye.-

You smirked, noticing the way his jaw clenched at the mention of his old wound.

-to battle with you would bring me no satisfaction. I want you to put out your eye... As payment for mine.-

Aemond took of his covered patch and revealed a beautiful blue crystal replacing his long healed wound

He stared at you , taking his dagger from his belt and throwing it at your feet.

-One would do, I won't blind you nor take away your... Beauty.-

He mocked you as you raised your head.

-Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.-

He smirked with his head help up high.

-I will not do such thing for a fight belonging to the past.-

You took a deep breath to calm down you anger st the mention of Alicent.

Lord Baratheon is staring at the two of you, tension so tick it could cut throats.

Once you refused, his look completely changed, from the collected calm prince to rage.

-Than you are craven as well as a traitor.-

-Give me your eye, or I will take it you bastard whore!-

he violently stepped towards you picking up his dagger in the process.

-Enough! Not in my house!-

Boros decided to break it before a disaster could happen.

The way Aemond glared at you would have made the strongest men turn to stone, yet you stood your ground.

You respectfully left the hall in a hurry, not wishing to see the prince for a second more.

Lord Baratheon had two of his knights escort you to Ghost, to make sure the two of you don't spill blood in his courtyard either.

You quickly make your way to Ghost, he's in distress, angry and ready to get home to.

He's also feeling shaken up , he knows Vhagar is here and he feels small. But Ghost is a great dragon that doesn't need to be saved by anyone, he's not one to intimidate easily.

Something isn't right, you think to yourself, The huge shadow of Vhagar isn't there. The storm doesn't make it any better.

You notice the way Ghost is reluctant.

-Dōhaeris Ghost!, ryabas, nūha taōba!-

You line your forhead with his to bring him comfort, gently peting his wet nose and looking into his icing eyes.

-let's go my sweet boy-

You climb on his back and with a fast move your in air.

You fly above storm's end, lighting and thunder surrounding it.

Ghost makes his way through the clouds fastly, advantage beeing that he's one of the fastest dragons at the moment.

He pays attention where to turn and not to crash. You're thankful you got a dragon like him choosing you.

After a few peaceful minutes of having your mind clear a huge shadow covers you and your dragon. You know who it is, that's why you command Ghost to sprint faster. Vhagar might be the largest dragon, but she's old, and not as fast as your dragon.

Ghost makes his way through places only he could fit and dodge.

You look behind to see if he's still there it catching up to you, he's not.

Once you look in front you see Vhagar so close to having you as it's next meal. You quickly move to dodge the Maniac who's chasing you, his laugh taunting you.

-Stop this madness Aemond! Have your limits!-

You yell knowing he will hear you.

In exchange you hear Vhagar groan.

Each time a but more closer to from you are, Vhagar so close to riping you and ghost in half.

Right when you were ready to give up a thought crossed your mind, Vhagar won't fit thought small places, and like the gods were on your side you notice a crampled coverage of stones, big enough for ghost to land and hide.

You directed Ghost that way making sure not to enter Vhagar mouth any time soon.

If course Vhagar followed, luckily enough you managed to make your way there.

Aemond's laugh never ceased, loving to see you scared and helpless at his mercy to do what ever he pleased,and oh how he loves taunting you , he barely waits to have you cornered.

-Jemēla gēlȳni enkā! Riña!-

His vicious laugh acompanies his sentence as he drags the last word out.

You and Ghost landed near a cave big enough for both of you.

You quickly got off the dragons back to get shelter.

Youre so shaken up you don't even notice the way Vhagar isn't in the sky any more.

You run towards the cave, you didn't manage to make it inside as you got pushed to the ground.

You quickly turn around and latch to your sword.

-you didn't actually think I'd let you go did you? -

The second Prince's taunting voice looked over you , you are a trembling mess, the coldnes and the water dripping from the top of your head to your bots, but that look in your eyes oh how he loved that.

You are cornered yet you still have that Strong look, ready to face the world .

You get your quickly, holding your sword in one hand ready to defend yourself.

-havent you've done enough? What do you want from me!-

Your voice speaks with anger.

-Oh I am just getting started-

He chuckled in a dark tone that sent shivers down your spine.

He takes his sword and the two of you skilfully fight. You slash his right arm as he almost stabs you in the side. You noticed he doesn't aim to kill you wich is very suspicious.

You got your sword to his neck once you find the opportunity.

-give up on that blind wish to harm me and my family!-

You demand with power in your voice.

With one swift movement he managed to get you on the ground dagger to you neck as he straddles your waist.

One knee he bend to keep himself up as the other rests on the other side of your waist.

-After all this time I finally got you bastard whore. -

And evil smile rests on his face.

You try to escape his hold on you.

-I wonder if your Lord Stark will want you once I'll tell him all the things I'm gonna do to you this night -

Once you hear that fear strucks you like a thunder, you could accept a lot of things but you were deadly afraid of what he was insinuating.

-Don't you dare lay a hand on me you cunt!-

You angrily treathen even though you know you're in no such position to do so.

He slightly pushes the knife deeper in your troath, enough to draw a drop of blood wich mixes with the water falling on you.

He forcefully grips your jaw and looks you in the eyes.

He doesn't say anything yet but a toxic smile fogs his face, his eye patch no where in sight, hair wet and eye whiden, giving him a Pshycothic look.

-I'm going to have you regret the moment of your useless existence, bastard whore, and I'll make sure you will fit for your nick name, whore, since you're already a bastard.-

You spit in his face.

-I would rather die ten times rather than fuck you once!-

you chuckled noticing he didn't like that.

-It's not like you have a choice, I'll Fuck you ten times then send the proof to your family to show them what I did with their pretty little bastard, then I will marry you and make your life so unsufarable that you would wish to take your own life, but i won't allow it, I'll fill you of children you won't even want and make sure you see everyone you love die in a war started by your own family.-

The look he had when he said those words was enough proof to tell you he meant each word.

-You're cruel, I've don't nothing but be kind to you when the others treated you like you were nothing! -

You shouted out of frustration.

-I was your friend! Your niece and your family and yet you treat me with such hatred you wouldn't even treat your worst enemy!-

You let you emotions out as you struggled to stay on your feet anymore.

You struggled against him as his grip was deadly.

-So follow your sick plan! Rape me, defile and make me wish for death, but I will not grant you satisfaction to hear me plead and yell for help!-

Aemond was left without words, he didn't expect you to let it all out, but that look in your eyes and the string demanor in your voice showed him you were terrified.

-Hurt me worse than I.. Deserve and.. -

Before you could continue you felt like you couldn't stand anymore, nor stay awake.

One thing you forgot is that when you were a child you used to get sick easily, especially in rainy cold weather.

Aemond also seemed to forget, since most of the times as children the two of you spent times in the rain and than you would be bed riden for two weeks, of course, get was a child so he never understood.

You crashed in the cold stones completely losing your conscience.

Seconds later he had you in his arms, he didn't know why, he says he hates you for what you didn't do for him and that you're undeserving of his love and care , but he just can't stop himself .

Everything goes just the way he wants. He tries to brush the words you doilled seconds before your fall but they just wouldn't bulge out of his mind.

He looked at your disheveled form, hair wet and sticking to your face, clothes so cold they almost froze on your body and face so red from tears and cold.

He couldn't deny, you are the most beautiful woman he laid eyes on, but if he has to get his hands dirty to have you, than do shall it be.

/Idk bout this, who wants a second part? /

Leave requests people, I'm open to everything basically

Hope you enjoyed thisss

#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd x you #hotd x reader #dark!aemond x reader #x reader #x yn #yandere

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 9 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 10

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 7/31/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?”

I woke up the next morning feeling anxious. I decided to start the day off with a workout. It helped calm my nerves and get rid of the excess energy. Afterwards, I jumped in the shower to get ready for the day. I kept the makeup light, added some products to my hair and let it air dry. I had been doing that a lot more. Embracing the curls and fluff that tended to result.

I spent a little more time cleaning up. The weather was nice today, so I figured we could eat out on the back deck overlooking the pool. That area needed some attention before I considered it to be acceptable. After I was finished with that, it was time to start cooking. I settled on manicotti. It was one of my specialties. As I started pulling out ingredients, Lauren came strolling in the front door with two bottles of wine. She was wearing a blue maxi dress, sandals, and a cute hat. This wasn’t her typical look for a Friday gathering.

“You look cute.”

“Is it too much? I mean the guy is famous. I didn’t want to look like a bum.”

I laughed at her and assured her it was fine.

“You look cute too, in a very casual and effortless way. Like you didn’t spend an hour trying to figure it out, but I know you did.”

I gave her an annoyed look and went back to what I was doing. She started digging for the wine opener. She poured us both a glass as I went over dinner plans. She was excited because it was one of her favorites.

A few minutes later my phone buzzed on the counter. It was Dieter letting me know he was on his way. I told him the front door was open and to come on in because I was about to be wrist deep in ricotta cheese. I twisted my fluffy curls up in a messy way and stuck a hair chopstick in it to hold it up. It fanned out in a halo around the back of my head. A few wavy strands fell around my face. Then, I got to work measuring ingredients out and started slowly mixing them together with my hand a little at a time.

I heard the door open a few minutes later. I yelled for Dieter to come to the kitchen. I turned to see him standing in the entryway wearing a white t-shirt with sunglasses stuck in the collar, navy shorts, and flip-flops. His hair was messy and hanging down over his eyes. It was a little longer than it had been in New York I noticed. It had a slight wave to it and suited him. I realized he was holding flowers and my stomach did a little dance.

He walked over to see what I was doing as I mixed the ricotta cheese filling with my hand, standing extremely close to look over my shoulder. He asked what I was making. I told him and he made a face like he was impressed while shaking his head up and down. Then he gave me a small kiss on the cheek and said he couldn’t wait to try it. He snuck in a comment about my hair looking nice today and I smiled up at him. I could feel Lauren’s eyes on us. He hadn’t noticed her yet. She was at the table chopping and mixing things for the salad, but had stopped when he came in.

I turned to ask her to get the meat out of the refrigerator so we could get it going. Dieter turned, realizing she was there, then paused to stare at her oddly. A line forming between his eyes as his brows knitted together in recognition.

“Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?”

She stilled, her eyes shooting to mine in panic.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t drink smoothies,” she said stiffly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said through laughter.

“You caught us. Yes, I saw you and avoided you. I’m sorry,” I said to him. He laughed.

“I had a feeling something was going on. She wasn’t very smooth about it. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. It’s actually kind of funny looking back on it.”

He walked over to Lauren, “I can’t believe you didn’t give her up though.” He was laughing as he presented her with a small bouquet of sunflowers. Then he gave her a brief hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard all the stories,” he said, still smiling, then winked at her.

She briefly looked dazed. Clearly affected by the charm of Dieter Bravo. He turned to me, motioning toward the four white roses he still held in his hand, indicating they were for me and asked for something to put them in. I thanked him and told Lauren where to find a vase.

“Interesting choices on the flowers, sir. Care to explain?” Lauren gave him a raised eyebrow. He smiled.

“Well, you sounded like a ray of sunshine, so I felt like the sunflowers suited you, and the white roses are a personal favorite of mine.”

“Why four?” Lauren asked. The interrogation was starting.

“It seemed like a good round number?” he replied with a questioning tone. Lauren stared at him for a minute, gauging his response.

“I don’t believe you,” she concluded as she handed him a vase. He looked slightly stunned and wasn’t sure how to respond. I rolled my eyes at her and told her to take it easy since he had just walked into the door.

After he put the flowers in water, he washed his hands, then brought the meat over to the stove. He asked me what he could do to help, and I told him where the pan was so he could start browning the meat while I continued to mix in the other ingredients with my hands. Lauren went back to chopping things for the salad.

Seeing him in my kitchen cooking was making my mind wander. It was strangely sexy and not something I could really recall ever seeing my ex do. He always expected me to do it all myself. Dieter pulled me out of my thoughts when he asked how long the meat needed to go for and if it was broken up enough. I leaned over to examine it and told him it was good. He took it off the eye and set it to the side to cool as instructed.

He turned to ask Lauren how her day had gone. He wanted to make sure to include her, which I thought was sweet. He was so effortless when talking with her. I wasn’t sure he ever actually met a stranger. I had a feeling he was like this with everyone.

They seemed to be getting along well. I stood there waiting and listening with my hands covered in the cheese mixture, occasionally joining the conversation. They were both already making jokes and laughing with each other, which I loved. He seemed like he would fit into our little circle quite nicely.

After a few minutes, he turned to check the meat, indicating that it was cooled off. I had him drain the grease, then pour the meat into the large mixing bowl I had been working on. He was standing extremely close while doing this. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell his musky scent. I continued mixing as I instructed him on preparing the manicotti noodles, trying not to be too distracted by his proximity.

“I didn’t know I was gonna get a cooking lesson,” he said laughing as he watched the water start to boil. “I can’t cook at all, so this is kind of educational.”

I looked at him, “Seriously? You don’t know how to cook?”

“I mean, I can do simple things. Nothing like this. It’s kind of fun. Do you all always cook together on Fridays?”

Lauren walked over to put the salad in the refrigerator, then tried to stick her finger in the noodle filling and I smacked her hand away. I turned to answer him.

“Yes, more times than not we do. Sometimes we order from a restaurant. It depends on how the week has gone.”

Lauren chimed in, “You should start joining us. We always try to do something fun or relaxing too. We’ve been talking about doing a wine and paint night soon,” she said matter of factly.

“That sounds like fun, I’d love to do that,” he said as the pot of water started to boil over.

“Oh shit…” he froze, unsure of what to do. Lauren stepped in to take over the noodle boiling while we both laughed at him.

Once I had the filling mixed, I scraped it off my hands the best I could, then moved to the sink to wash them. Lauren started laying the noodles out on cookie sheets to cool so we could stuff them. I pulled out 3 large freezer bags, clipped the bottom corner off one side of each of them, then spooned the filling into each. I showed Dieter how to use it like an icing bag to fill the manicotti noodles. The three of us made quick work of it, filling up two pans with stuffed noodles. I covered them with different cheeses and sauce before throwing them in the oven.

We sat around the table chatting and drinking wine while we waited for the food to finish. Lauren told Dieter about her new age themed art shop and about the classes she teaches there. He seemed really interested in it and asked if he could attend some. She even offered to do a private one just for us so he wouldn’t have to deal with the people that might make it a less than enjoyable experience for him. She also made sure to let him know that she often sells many of my “works of art” in her shop too. I had to roll my eyes at her. She was trying to be a wingman, but really, it was just embarrassing. Of course, it caught his attention, and he started bugging me about seeing some things I had made. I told him I would show him later, hoping he would forget.

Once the manicotti was done, I pulled it out of the oven to cool off and put the garlic bread loaf in for a few minutes to heat up and melt the cheese and butter. Lauren got a head start on taking things outside. After a few minutes, I pulled the bread out and started to slice it up. I could feel Dieter’s eyes on me. I looked up at him and he seemed deep in thought. He noticed my glances and decided to break the silence.

“You know, I must say, I never would have guessed you were into cooking fancy meals.”

I glanced up at him again, not sure if I should be offended or not.

“Why is that so surprising?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so busy, I am surprised you would take the time to do all this extra work.”

“Honestly, it sort of became my escape when I was still married. My ex wouldn’t step foot in the kitchen out of fear he’d be asked to do something. So, I started spending more time there. Just to have some peace and be away from him. He didn’t complain because he still got to reap some benefit from it by eating whatever I came up with.”

“That’s really sad and also his loss. Not sure what he was thinking, I rather enjoy watching you cook…” He smiled as he admitted to his newly discovered hobby.

“I kind of like you teaching me how to cook too,” he said as he gave me a sly half smile.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to take that. Was he flirting or just making a statement? It was so hard to tell with him sometimes since he had that type of flirty personality anyway. I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled back.

“Well, I’m happy I can provide entertainment, I guess. Anyway, this Friday thing that Lauren and I do is kind of new. Just something we picked up the last few months as I’ve been trying to get my shit together. A routine is good for me and it’s something to look forward to at the end of the week. We kind of just stuck with it.”

“I appreciate you letting me join in. I think it might be good for me too. Especially if it teaches me how to cook in the process,” he laughed as he took another drink of wine.

Lauren came back in to let me know everything outside was ready. We made our plates then went out onto the patio to eat. Dieter absolutely loved the manicotti. Lauren chimed in to say it was her personal favorite meal.

“Well, since you both love it so much, please take some home with you or else I’ll be eating it for a week.”

“I will not argue with that offer. Gosh, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m gonna have to do double time at the gym,” Dieter said.

“Talia has a gym downstairs and I have a key for a reason,” Lauren replied with a laugh.

“You have a home gym? Damn, I’m kind of jealous. I still go to the local one that my trainer owns,” Dieter said.

“You can join us weakling girls at any time,” Lauren replied.

“That might be mildly entertaining,” he said with a laugh and Lauren feigned offense.

After a couple hours of conversation, Lauren announced that she had to leave because she had to be at the shop early due to the employee with a sick kid being out. I gave her a look. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying force alone time or if it was a legit reason. She said her goodbyes and Dieter gave her a small hug and kiss on the cheek. She returned the gesture and thanked him for the flowers. The smirk she gave me as she was walking out the door said it was a ploy to get us alone. I rolled my eyes at her.

After she left, Dieter helped me clean up from dinner. He started washing the dishes as I was putting the food away.

“Oh, seriously, you don’t have to do that,” I said to him. He turned to me.

“I most certainly do. You just fed me and gave me enough leftovers for like three days. I’m washing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

I suddenly felt a little emotional. I had to fight it back as I looked at him. Every second spent with Dieter made me realize how big of an ass my ex was. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I really needed to stop thinking about that stuff.

Dieter noticed the shift in my mood. He dried his hands on his shirt and walked over to me, studying my face. His brows knitted together in concern as I continued to give him a blank stare.

“Where do your thoughts go when that happens?” he asked quietly, touching my cheek.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, not realizing how obvious my wandering thoughts actually were to the casual observer, or maybe he just sensed it better than most.

“You just kind of space out and go somewhere else for a second. It’s not that noticeable, but I can tell, your mind is on other things. Did I do something?”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and my breath hitched a little. I looked down.

“No. No, you didn’t do anything. Uhh, sometimes I just…things trigger memories. It can literally be the most random stuff. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to.”

“What were you thinking just then?” His tone was gentle and caring.

“I…you don’t want to hear about this stuff.” I tried to turn away, my face strained, but he gently put his hand on my arm to stop me.

“I actually do. If you don’t mind sharing. I wanna be able to help you work through this stuff.”

I was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked at him. Trying to decide how much I wanted to share. I kept my expression neutral.

“I just had a thought of the few times I had asked Justin to help with the dishes after I made dinner. Some of those times were when I wasn’t feeling well. He called me lazy for not cleaning up my own mess. I know it sounds ridiculous that a small comment like that would mean anything, but eventually all of that added up to breaking me down and making me feel like shit about myself. I think about the things he used to say to me, and it still makes me question everything I do sometimes.”

Dieter gave me a sympathetic look, but I could also see the anger flash in his eyes.

“What was the purpose of saying stuff like that to you? What did he gain from it?”

“He’s a narcissist. Mental and psychological abuse is just what they do. It was his way of controlling me. He broke me down then molded me into his perfect little stepford wife. I was expected to always act and look a certain way. He succeeded for a long time until I finally snapped out of it and realized how unhappy I was.”

“Did he ever physically hurt you?”

“Toward the end… when I started standing up to him, he would shove me around some. He did slap me once when I threatened to leave. I eventually caught him cheating and it was such a fucking relief. I wasn’t even mad. He tried to turn it around and say it was my fault for not taking care of his needs, but it was finally something he couldn’t talk his way out of. I didn’t let that one go. It was my excuse for leaving.”

Dieter closed the distance between us and wrapped me in a tight hug. I couldn’t help burying my face in his chest and inhaling his scent as he laid his head on mine.

“Thank you for telling me that. It helps me understand you a little better. I’m sorry he treated you that way. No one deserves that,” he said quietly into my hair.

We pulled away from each other and I gave him a small smile.

“Now, I am going to wash the dishes. No arguments,” he said sternly, then smiled.

I continued cleaning up as he did the dishes. We worked in comfortable silence until we finished. He eventually spoke up and asked to see the “works of art” that Lauren had mentioned earlier. My shoulders dropped as I gave him an annoyed look.

“What?” he asked, laughing at me.

“You don’t need to see any of that. There are no works of art. It’s just hobby stuff to keep my mind busy.”

“Awww come on. Pleeeease,” he said as he gave me a sad puppy look. He knew what he was doing. How could anyone deny his big beautiful brown eyes. I pointed at him with a mock disbelieving look.

“Stop that. You’re too good at it,” I said through laughter. He continued to lay it on thick. I rolled my eyes, giving in. I ended up giving him a mini tour of the whole house before we continued downstairs to the basement area where my craft room was.

My craft room is fairly large. One full wall is made of glass with doors that lead out back to the pool area, which helps with lighting. One wall is lined with floor to ceiling shelving. A large craft table with underneath storage sits in the middle of the room surrounded by large LED floor lamps. There are other smaller workstations lined against the open wall. The space is in constant disarray, but it’s one of my favorite places to be. There are always several projects in progress sitting around the room.

As soon as we walked in, Dieter was like a kid in a candy store. He walked around looking at everything, asking me all sorts of questions about the supplies and tools. He seemed genuinely interested. Once he got over to the shelf where a lot of the miniatures and figures I had sculpted out of clay were, he stood in silence. Looking at every little detail. My stomach was in knots from nerves as I watched him look over my work.

He eventually stepped back, and that’s when the painting I had been working on got his attention. It’s one of the first few paintings I have ever done. Just a reproduction of a picture I had found online of an abandoned flower garden. I thought it might be good practice with layering and blending colors. I walked over to him, watching his face as he looked at it in silence. Some type of emotion was playing under the surface, but I couldn’t decipher what it was. He took a deep breath and quickly blinked a few times before turning to me.

“I love art. Have I told you that?” he asked as he eyed me with a small smile on his face. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I love this. You’re really good. You’ll have to paint something for my house, it could use some color.”

“That is literally like the third painting I’ve ever done. I mean, I paint the figures and stuff, but picture painting is new. Lauren has been teaching me the techniques and tricks. I sit and watch her paint all the time.”

“Well, clearly you have some talent then, because I love it.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I always felt warm and fuzzy when he complimented me. Once he seemed satisfied from looking at every little thing, we moved on to the workout room. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was roomy and had a decent amount of equipment, a mirrored wall, a large tv, and surround sound Bluetooth speakers. There was also a small bathroom with a shower.

“Dang, I’m just going to start coming over here,” he said as he walked into the room.

“You’re more than welcome, anytime you want.”

“Seriously, I might. Paparazzi have been hanging out outside my regular place. It’s starting to get on my nerves.”

I knitted my brows together and shook my head at the absurdity of this information. I walked over to the key hooks beside the door that had access to outside, pulled a key ring off and tossed it to him. He almost didn’t catch it because it took him off guard. He looked down at it, then back at me with a raised eyebrow.

“It goes to this entry door. It has a separate key from the rest of the house. You need the lock code to get in through the other door to the inside of the house,” I said as I motioned to the door we had just come through.

“So, come use it anytime you want. Even if I’m not here. Also, you can park next to this door if you use the second driveway entrance that goes around to the back and there is a motion sensing camera outside the door. Just FYI.”

“For real? This is awfully trusting of you,” he said with a small laugh. I shrugged.

“If it saves some of your sanity, I’m willing to help.”

I will admit, I may have had ulterior motives with this invitation. Watching a sweaty Dieter workout seemed enticing. I did want to help him out though. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to have someone shoving a camera in your face all the time, especially when you may not look your best.

We called it a night soon after that. As he left, he grabbed his leftovers then gave me a quick side hug and peck on the cheek.

After he left, I immediately started getting ready for bed. I was tired from the long but pleasant day. As I was settling in for sleep, my phone pinged with a text from Dieter.

DIETER: I had a great time tonight and I enjoyed spending time with you (and Lauren). Thanks for having me over. Sleep well.

I read his text a few times before responding. I always felt like he had underlying meaning to his words, but then I stopped myself. Surely, I was trying to read too much into them.

ME: I had a great time too. Good night.

Next Chapter Tag List: @rhoorl, @bitchwitch1981

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hopethroughscriptureministries · 23 days

Text

House Built on a Strong Foundation:

Spiritual Wisdom

Today we bring to you a parable that Jesus shared with his disciples—a story of profound spiritual insight that speaks to the very foundation of our faith. It is the parable of the House Built on a Strong Foundation.

Imagine a wise builder who set out to construct a house. He carefully selected a site and began laying the foundation, digging deep into the bedrock and ensuring its stability. With meticulous care, he built upon this foundation, layer by layer, crafting a sturdy and enduring structure.

Now, picture another builder who, in contrast, was hasty and careless in his construction. He chose a site without considering its stability and began building without laying a firm foundation. Instead, he built upon the shifting sands, neglecting to secure his structure against the elements.

As time passed, storms arose, lashing against both houses with fierce winds and torrents of rain. The house built on the strong foundation stood firm, its walls unshaken and its roof unyielding. But the house built on the shifting sands could not withstand the onslaught; it crumbled and fell, its ruins scattered by the tempest.

What does this parable teach us, dear friends? It is a metaphor for the life of faith. The wise builder represents those who hear the words of Jesus and put them into practice, building their lives upon the solid foundation of his teachings (Matthew 7:24-25). They anchor their faith in the unchanging truth of God's Word, rooted deeply in Christ.

On the other hand, the foolish builder symbolizes those who hear the words of Jesus but do not act upon them. They build their lives upon the shifting sands of worldly pursuits and fleeting pleasures, lacking the firm foundation of faith (Matthew 7:26-27). When trials come, their faith is tested, and they find themselves without the strength to withstand the storms of life.

Let us heed the wisdom of this parable and examine the foundation upon which we are building our lives. Are we anchored in Christ, standing firm upon the rock of salvation (Psalm 18:2)? Or are we building upon the shifting sands of worldly wisdom and human strength?

As followers of Christ, let us strive to be like the wise builder, diligently laying a strong foundation of faith and obedience to God's Word. Let us build our lives upon the firm foundation of Jesus Christ, our Rock and Redeemer (1 Corinthians 3:11). And when the storms of life rage against us, we can rest assured that our house will stand, for it is built upon the unshakable truth of God's promises (Psalm 46:1-3).

May this parable inspire us to build our lives upon the strong foundation of faith in Christ, that we may withstand the trials of this world and inherit the eternal blessings of God's kingdom. Amen.

Broader Context:

Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders (Luke 6:46-49):

This parable directly correlates with the concept of building upon a strong foundation.

Foundation of Christ (1 Corinthians 3:11):

"For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ."

Building on Solid Rock (Matthew 7:24-27):

Jesus teaches about the importance of building one's life on a solid foundation, likening it to a wise man who built his house on the rock.

Christ as the Chief Cornerstone (Ephesians 2:19-22):

"So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit."

Stability in God's Word (Psalm 18:2):

"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."

The Foundation of Faith and Obedience (Hebrews 11:6):

"And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him."

The Firm Foundation of God's Word (2 Timothy 3:16-17):

"All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."

Rooted and Built Up in Christ (Colossians 2:6-7):

"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."

The Cornerstone Rejected by the Builders (Psalm 118:22):

"The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone."

The Importance of Spiritual Growth (2 Peter 1:5-8):

"For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Questions:

What aspects of my life am I currently building upon? Are they rooted in the solid foundation of faith and obedience to God's Word, or are they founded on the shifting sands of worldly pursuits and human wisdom?

How can I ensure that my spiritual foundation remains strong and unwavering amidst the storms of life? What practices, disciplines, or habits can I cultivate to deepen my relationship with Christ and strengthen my faith?

In what areas of my life do I see evidence of a weak or unstable foundation? What steps can I take to address these areas and rebuild upon the firm foundation of God's truth and promises?

Am I actively seeking wisdom and guidance from God's Word as I navigate the decisions and challenges of life? How can I align my thoughts, actions, and priorities with the principles of God's Kingdom, ensuring that I am building a life that honors and glorifies Him?

Prayer:

Heavenly Father,

We come before you with hearts full of gratitude for the wisdom and guidance you offer us through your Word. Thank you for teaching us the importance of building our lives upon the strong foundation of faith in Christ.

Lord, we acknowledge that we often stray from this firm foundation, seeking security and fulfillment in the fleeting pleasures of this world. Forgive us, O God, for the times when we have neglected to anchor our lives in your truth and grace.

As we reflect on the parable of the house built on a strong foundation, we are reminded of your steadfast love and faithfulness. Help us, Lord, to continually seek your wisdom and guidance, that we may build our lives upon the unshakable rock of your salvation.

Grant us the strength and courage to withstand the storms of life, knowing that you are our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1). May our faith remain unwavering, our hope secure, and our love steadfast, grounded in the unchanging truth of your Word.

As we go forth from this moment, empower us to be faithful builders, constructing our lives in accordance with your will and purpose. May our actions and attitudes reflect the firm foundation of our faith in Christ, shining as beacons of your love and grace in a world in need of your redeeming light.

In Jesus' name, we pray.

Amen.

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