#i pray for the absolution of our collective sins

[its-actually-minicika]

THW Aemond's Kink List (18+)

Pairing: Dark!Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: nsfw situations;

Author's Note: You made me do this. You created this monstrosity. I hope this is exactly what you wanted, you sick, sick ppl

I'm done forever I FEEL SO ASHAMED PLS STOP ASKING ME FOR THE LIST NOW I HAVE 2 NEW REQS THAT MENTION IT 😭😀

Just as the title says, this is a basic list that dives into what's going on in that (even more basic) head of his.

I ended up splitting this into halves - one that speaks of his kinks when engaging with a casual sexual partner, and the other that goes into detail about what he's like strictly with the reader.

With Someone He Doesn't "Love"

When it comes to having sex for the simple sake of it, Aemond is a hard dom. He takes what he needs, with little to no regard for the feelings of others, and immediately leaves thereafter.

Although he still likes to give pleasure in his own way, and knows that aftercare is important, he's taking part in an actual war. Which often means he's more needed somewhere else, and is always left pent up and frustrated.

On his partner:

Choking (Breath Play);

Surprisingly sensual - not at all what you'd expect, with how aggressive he is in "The Harshest Winters", outside the bedroom.

Bondage;

No, not with his eyepatch. It takes a lot of trust for Aemond to remove it in the presence of anyone, even more so in the presence of a bedmate. Still, he's not against using the ropes that secure his clothing, or the leathers that go around his waist.

Degradation (Humiliation Play);

It just gets him going - no surprises here.

Impact Play;

Spanking, hair pulling, mark leaving. He's a possessive man, and likes to see the aftermath of his sessions on his willing partner;

Begging;

He'll be as mean and cruel as he sees fit. And the more his lover begs, the harsher he gets.

Sadism;

As seen in "Begging". The bedroom is the one place where he can retaliate on all the shit that he's been through, on all the wrongs that he thinks have been commited against him. Unfortunately, his partner gets to feel the worst of it.

Orgasm Denial;

This is less for the sake of his bedmate's pleasure, as it is for the fact that he needs a lot of time to actually finish.

Aemond hyperfixates on things, and he likes the feeling of finishing at the same time as his partner.

Unless he's close to an orgasm, they won't feel the edge of relief anytime soon.

Sensory Depravation;

Blindfolds, blindfolds, blindfolds. He gets to feel in utter control, and his partner doesn't have to see his scarred face.

Somewhat Roleplay;

If he's been engaging in it before you, he demands his partner to call him their "King", or "Master".

But if it's post meeting you, he just pretends he's doing you, instead. Bonus, he might just choke out your name when he's done defiling you inside his mind.

Edging;

More or less something that's unintentional.

Spitting (?);

I haven't made my mind about this one. To me, THW Aemond is a very clean and up-kept person. He might deem both his seed and saliva to be something dirty, something that shouldn’t be spread around (lmao that's why Alys is pregnant, he just never pulls out).

So if he does spit in someone's mouth, it's more so to degrade them further, or assert his claim over them.

Breeding Kink;

Come on.

We've all seen it coming - nobody's surprised with that one.

Oh himself:

Edging;

If he can spare the time, and he actually likes his bedmate, Aemond would like nothing more than to be edged like no tomorrow - but on his terms.

No, he won't sub for anyone he doesn't love and fully trust, no matter how fond he is of them.

He likes edging, it makes his release all the sweeter, but he'll still be in full control over what's going on, always on top. He controls the pace, the how's and when's, anything really.

Praise;

He loves being told how good he is, and how well he's fucking his current partner.

When it comes to praise, they can be as graphic and as loud as they want (it's actually encouraged, to be honest). The more he's complimented on his skill and stamina, the more fired up he gets.

Size Difference;

He likes to feel big, looming over someone.

He's always been the tiny, and helpless younger brother. Twice as small as Aegon while growing up, the laughing stock of his siblings and nephews.

Aemond loses his mind when his partner is smaller than him (heightwise - weight doesn't really impact him). It makes him feel dangerous and primal, to be able to manhandle someone as he sees fit.

Overstimulation;

This one's also a "only if he likes his lover" kind of deal.

He'll keep pounding in them, well after his initial release; and if his partner times this well, praising him throughout it, he might just finish inside them twice.

BONUS:

Favourite Positions to do the do:

Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, C.A.T, standing, against pieces of furniture or against the wall.

But How Is Aemond With Someone He Cannot Live Without?

If he actually gets you willingly in bed with him (consent is still very important to him), Aemond is a service dom, a very needy and clingy top, and he does border on being a sub.

I'll get this out of the way right now: yes, he would MUCH rather you still be a virgin by the time you guys make love. It's not about purity culture, but he does want to be your "one and only", your first and last.

He's so obsessed and possessive over you, that the simple thought of another man touching what's his sends him in a downward spiral.

Still, if you aren't a virgin, and have some sexual experience of your own under your belt, he might turn your first time into a little game: based on how many men have made you cum, he'll give you 5 times as many orgasms.

You think that's a lot? You think that's impossible?

Don't worry, you have the whole day ahead. And you can always break fast in bed.

On Lady Tully:

Intimacy;

He might not look or sound like it, but this man is whipped and very much soft for you - above all else, he craves that pure intimacy with you, and would do anything to bring you pleasure.

If you waited for your first "I love you" to happen while in bed with him, then Aemond came the moment you uttered the words to him.

Oopsies

Don't worry, though. Tell him you're proud of him, and that he rides the largest dragon in the world, and he'll be up and about again, 10 seconds tops.

Breeding Kink;

Obviously. He wants an army of babies with you, so uh... good luck.

Size Difference;

He revels in being able to grip you in ways that would be considered dangerous for others - a light hand over your neck, a squeeze of both your wrists as he pins you down.

He never once applies pressure, and he's far too scared to hurt you.

But he loves how tiny your hands are engulfed in his, how your eyes dilate as his bigger body presses deeply against yours.

Bondage;

If you want him to, he'll more than gladly tie you up and leave you bare atop the bed, completely at his mercy.

No, he still doesn't think to use the eyepatch - but if you tell him to do it, he will.

Overstimulation;

He would do it to you, again and again, until you can't breathe from pleasure anymore.

As opposed to how it was when he laid with other women, he overstimulates you purely for the sake of your own pleasure.

He wants to give everything to you. Since he's a man of few words (and the ones he ends up saying aren't always all that), his actions speak the loudest here.

Edging;

It makes him feel good, and it enhances his experience ten fold.

He wants to enrapture you in nothing but bliss - since edging works for him, it must work for you, too, right?

Multiple Orgasms;

Aemond is canonically pussy drunk. He'll stay inside you all day and steal as many orgasms as he can from you.

He's sure he loves you, and wants to take care of you. To him, making you cum around him is the best way to show you how sorry he is for all shit he put you though at the beginning of your relationship.

Knife Play;

... Dagger play.

He sees his blade as an extension of himself. Again, he would NEVER EVER hurt you, and would be very reluctant to even suggest such a thing to you.

If he sees you even slightly uncomfortable at the thought of it, he'll never ask you that again, and forget about the idea entirely.

But if you are game to experiment with him, then he'll gently graze the edge of the knife over your smooth skin (being very careful to not break in a single cut) and yeah, he will use the hilt to... you know.

Stop, he's actually so gross JSKKSKS

BODY WORSHIP;

He senses any insecurity you may have and makes it a point to make that part of your body his new praying altar.

Yeah, he's overcompensating for keeping you in a dungeon during the 1st month of your imprisonment.

Praise;

Loves whispering to you how good you're being for him, how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Marking;

You're all his now, and he lives to show it.

If you're modest, and don't like people staring at your hickeys and red marks, prepare to be wearing high collars all the time, even in the midst of summer.

Oral;

If he could spend his whole life with his lips over your cunt, Aemond would die a happy man.

The first time he ate you up, he immediately came into his pants.

Naww, that's just sad, dawg

Light Roleplay;

If you aren't married yet, he 100% roleplays that you're his wife in High Valyrian.

He actually proposes to you in High Valyrian everytime he cums.

BAHAHA IT'S TRUE

The beauty of role-playing with Aemond is that you don't even have to pretend to be anyone else. He does all the work in a language you already know.

He thinks he's very slick with it, but one day you'll stop abrupty and actually give him a reply, and he'll go completely nuts

Voyeurism;

He likes to focus on you pleasuring yourself with no other distraction, and focus in on your face.

He's been engaging in this ever since you started sleeping in his Chambers, let's be honest: sure, you're not actually doing anything sexual in the beginning of your stay with him, but Aemond finds anything you do alluring.

Brushing your hair, yawning, reading a book - everything gets him going.

On himself:

Anything.

Okay, there are some exceptions to this rule, but this isn't a joke. As stated before in his inner thoughts, this man will take ANYTHING that you willingly give him.

If you're into hitting him, slapping him, marking him, pulling his hair, denying him release, degrading him, spitting on him, stepping on him, whatever else - he's more than 1000% down for all that.

You could be so cruel to him, and he'd still be more than thankful just for getting you naked.

Since it's coming from you, and he's so "in love", Aemond won't bat a single eyelash at you, no matter what you suggest him to do.

Even so...

Hair Pulling;

It's one of his favourites. He couldn't tell you why, but he quietly loves it when you try to assert dominance over him;

Praise;

I don't need to elaborate.

Edging;

It prolongs the intimate moment with his lady, and it tests his self-control and focus.

Overstimulation;

He sees it as a very intimate experience, and he doesn't do it with everyone.

It's even more different when he does it with you - he sees it as a wordless way to surrender to you, and let you do whatever you want to him.

While he needs to be in full control with a random lover, Aemond easily lets go with you, and enjoys the stability that comes with the unexpected. You decide how everything goes, you run the show with him.

Knife Play and Blood Play;

He thinks it's really exhilarating to be at your mercy. It takes a lot of trust from him to be suggesting such a thing.

Multiple Orgasms;

He's been with plenty other women, and his sex drive isn't as high as you'd expect. But there's something that you do to him that makes him insatiable.

Light Bondage;

Yep. Tie him up a little bit and use him to your heart's content.

Mutual Masturbation;

Mhm.

BONUS:

Favourite positions to do the do:

Side-by-side scissors, spooning, missionary, mating press, legs on shoulders, standing, cowgirl

#the harshest winters #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #now that we're done with this i'll crawl back into my hole #is this who we are??? is this what we represent??? #i pray for the absolution of our collective sins

[godsmanforeverhis]

(via "Abandoning God 9/15/2023 Posted by David Kitz for “I Love the Psalms”)

“Abandoning God 9/15/2023 Posted by David Kitz for “I Love the Psalms”

 Have you abandoned God for the things of the world ?? The apostle John penned this, in...

 1 John 2:15-16... Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but is of the world. (NKJV)

 This country [the USA] is spiraling out of control because we have forgotten God... We have taken Him out of our schools, out of our government, and you can see the results... :-(

 Read this post by David, "Abandoning God", for more about unchecked sin in our own lives and collectively as a nation... I pray that everyone would seek the Lord Jesus Christ to become their personal Lord and Savior... [See P.S. below]

 Once saved by God's grace alone, the redeemed, "born again" child of God must do their best to put God first, before anything the world has to offer them... And if they can live in obedience to God's perfect will for their lives, they will be blessed beyond imagination !!

 Not yet a "born again" Christian ?? Not 100% sure you will be going to heaven when you die ?? You absolutely CAN be sure you are heaven-bound when you are "born again" by God above... Open the P.S. below, and seek Jesus Christ to become your personal Lord and Savior before it’s too late...

 God can help you live a Spirit-filled" life...and in turn, you can be the start for turning the country around... Share your faith with those in need of the love of Christ filling their hearts... One by one God can help us turn this country around...

 2 Chronicles 7:14...  if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. (NKJV)

 Blessings in Christ, bruce

 Click below to open post-

https://godsmanforever.com/2023/09/15/abandoning-god-9-15-2023-posted-by-david-kitz-for-i-love-the-psalms/

 P.S.  When there is no other place to turn…turn to God !! If you’re not a “born again” Christian, is the Holy Spirit urging you to open this link ?? Here is the truth about how God’s grace is received to become a Christian in God’s eyes; through understanding and obeying the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ…  https://godsmanforever.com

 To my brothers and sisters in Christ, please feel free to share this message of the cross with those in need…

 You say you are a “born again” believer…  BUT is your soul “ON FIRE” for the Lord ?? If not, open this link – https://godsmanforever.com/2020/08/01/are-you-a-christian-in-gods-eyes-and-on-fire-for-the-lord-or-not/

 Posted by David Kitz for “I Love the Psalms” @  https://davidkitz.wordpress.com/

[realityzap]

"... applies to everyone.  This is a must read for women, especially mothers who are burdened with shaping the next generation, but men would benefit as well. Despite the title this is not a book about religion, although Christianity is mentioned throughout for historical context and explanation as to where the ideas of patriarchy, and the Seven Deadly Sins originated from. Now I that I’ve seen them and have read detailed examples of how they perpetrate our culture, I can’t unsee them.  The Seven Deadly Sins are everywhere.  Our society is absolutely saturated with them.  My hope is that this book will bring more awareness to their influence, make us aware of our internalized patriarchy, and help us heal it by breaking free from these toxic, mythical narratives that do nothing but enforced oppression." — review of On Our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Price Women Pay to Be Good (2023)

"While I enjoy the perspective of psychological astrology, and the idea that we have three levels of health for expressing each of our planetary placements was helpful and new to me (similar to the Enneagram), this is a very basic book for beginners.  It sets a good foundation if you’re very new to astrology and offers a quick reference if you’re more experienced. " — review of Use Your Planets Wisely: Master Your Ultimate Cosmic Potential with Psychological Astrology (2020)

— Chelsea

"A society in which self-realisation is central proceeds from the assumption that people are essentially good — so self-realisation is a good idea.  A society that takes the opposing view of human nature will be focused on self-denial, because it’s all about keeping a check on evil impulses: regular monitoring is necessary, and a firm hand needed on the reins.  This notion has dominated Western thought, taking its penultimate shape from Christian ethics. [...] Both religion and scientism instil in the individual a split identity that springs from a sense of deficiency.  I am evil and sinful, or irrational and stupid.  If I make enough effort, I can become good or rational, and those in power will help me by continually monitoring me and rewarding or punishing me.  If large groups persist in their sinfulness (unbelievers) or stupidity (reactionaries), those in power have to take radical measures: mass conversion, re-education, or if needs be, eradication.  Even perfectibility has its limits. Both religion and scientism regard present-day humans as imperfect; true perfection will only be found in the hereafter or in a distant future when society is run according to truly scientific principles.  In both cases, this requires considerable personal sacrifice.  Believers must pray and work hard to attain God’s mercy.  The ignorant must study hard, and if necessary seek psychological counselling in order to attain reason through the proper insights."

— Paul Verhaeghe, What About Me? (2012/2014)

"Why do women equate self-denial with being good? We congratulate ourselves when we resist the donut in the office breakroom.  We celebrate our restraint when we hold back from sending an email in anger.  We feel virtuous when we wake up at dawn to get a jump on the day.  We put others' needs ahead of our own and believe this makes us exemplary.  In On Our Best Behavior, journalist Elise Loehnen explains that these impulses--often lauded as unselfish, distinctly feminine instincts--are actually ingrained in us by a culture that reaps the benefits, via an extraordinarily effective collection of mores known as the Seven Deadly Sins. Since being codified by the Christian church in the fourth century, the Seven Deadly Sins--pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth--have exerted insidious power.  Even today, in our largely secular, patriarchal society, they continue to circumscribe women's behavior.  For example, seeing sloth as sinful leads women to deny themselves rest; a fear of gluttony drives them to ignore their appetites; and an aversion to greed prevents them from negotiating for themselves and contributes to the 55 percent gender wealth gap. In On Our Best Behavior, Loehnen reveals how we've been programmed to obey the rules represented by these sins and how doing so qualifies us as "good."  This probing analysis of contemporary culture and thoroughly researched history explains how women have internalized the patriarchy, and how they unwittingly reinforce it.  By sharing her own story and the spiritual wisdom of other traditions, Loehnen shows how we can break free and discover the integrity and wholeness we seek."

— Penguin Random House, about On Our Best Behavior (2023)

"In a world where we’re often judged harshly for identifying and revealing our needs, doing so can be very frightening.  Women, in particular, are susceptible to criticism.  For centuries, the image of the loving woman has been associated with sacrifice and the denial of one’s own needs to take care of others.  Because women are socialized to view the caretaking of others as their highest duty, they often learn to ignore their own needs. [...] In the course of developing emotional responsibility, most of us experience three stages: (1) “emotional slavery”—believing ourselves responsible for the feelings of others, (2) “the obnoxious stage”—in which we refuse to admit to caring what anyone else feels or needs, and (3) “emotional liberation”—in which we accept full responsibility for our own feelings but not the feelings of others, while being aware that we can never meet our own needs at the expense of others."

— Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life (1999)

"Once needs were met, more income did not generate more contentment.  It would appear that the acquisition of stuff and property beyond the basics doesn’t up your Zen quotient."

— Robert Lustig, The Hacking of the American Mind: The Science Behind the Corporate Takeover of Our Bodies and Brains (2017)

"An increasing number of women have more money and decision-making power, and it was only a matter of time before this trickled down to their romantic relationships.  The more independent women become, the less likely they are to tolerate relationships that don’t meet their needs. While women are demanding that men be more emotionally fluent, men are still receiving a very different message about what their role in the dating world is. [...] “Health programs often view men mainly as oppressors—self-centered, disinterested, or violent—instead of as complex subjects whose behaviors are influenced by gender and sexual norms.”  It’s one big, vicious cycle, where men’s individual actions confirm the beliefs of health care workers and then health care workers continue to treat them in a gendered way that doesn’t respond to their full set of needs."

— Liz Plank, For the Love of Men (2019)

#women #men #needs #self-denial #money #good #sin

[writingsbychlo]

sinner | bucky barnes

word count; 14,861

summary; bucky is spending the one day he get’s to walk the earth freely the way he usually does. normal demon things. then, he meets his angel.

notes; I got carried away, nothing else to say. the pic is pretty much exactly how I picture demon!bucky looking. also, I did not proofread this, because it’s three am. take it easy on me if it’s riddled with grammatical fuck-ups.

warnings; it’s literally called ‘sinner’. you can work out the warnings.

Bucky didn’t mean to run into you, in fact, you certainly weren’t what he was looking for as he wandered the aisles of a grocery store at two in the morning, but he still had hours before the day really began and the fun could really start, but sometimes he’d find runaways or strays who were so high he thought they surely shouldn’t be able to stand, who he could convince to do a little theft, but then there was you. 

Here he was, making the absolute most of the first few hours of the one day that demons were allowed to walk the earth, darkness still filling the sky and a cold breeze that was more than enough to make him shivering the coolness of the late-year air, and then you’d strolled in. 

An angel on earth, literally. 

He’d heard tales, girls so pretty they could bring you to your knees, an aura that glowed and glittered, all things holy and magical, and the absolute opposite of him, and he was drawn to you from the second that you’d stepped into the building. The cashier behind the till was just a kid, snoozing against his hand as the addict in aisle three continues to shove chocolate bars into his pocket, upon hearing whisperings that he should - something Bucky was still smirking about - as he followed you around towards the bread section.

He could see you more clearly now, and you really were gorgeous. Soft skin, covered mostly by hospital scrubs, and he tried to cover his scoff, finding it absolutely typical that an angel would be here working in a hospital, some kind of selfless act, and he wouldn't be at all surprised if you were a volunteer too, just to really rub your altruistic nature into everybody else’s faces. That was the one thing he didn’t understand, he didn’t get how everybody looked up to Heaven and prayed to a God or deity, how nobody thought it odd how they were all constantly being shamed by bars they could never reach, set so high they weren’t even in sight anymore, but then again, he didn’t like to judge. 

Not when his own actions would be so heavily frowned upon, but what can you expect from a demon? It’s in his nature.

You were tired, you weren’t paying much attention, a scrap of paper in your hands that look awfully similar to the back of a prescription as you moved through the store, trying to fill your basket with everything you’d need, none the wiser as he tailed you slowly, studying you, trying to work it out. From all the stories he’d heard, angels had left the earth long ago, so long that their existence at all had become something that he’d heard questioned many times in the underworld, and so he couldn't quite work out why you were herein a gas station store in the first few hours of Halloween morning. 

He wanted answers, he wanted to get a little closer, confirm it all for himself, and as you spun around to head to the checkout, you crashed right into him, a yelp leaving you as you jumped back, and your eyes finally met his, once you had steadied yourself. One look into his eyes, a quick flicker around the edges of his body as he was certain you could see his own aura, tainted and stained with darkness, before your eyes were going infinitely wider, and the basket in your hands fell to the floor with a crash. 

The items scattered around his feet, tins rolling away and disappearing under shelves, and that exhaustion you’d once had was fading away, replaced with shock and fear, and as you took a step back, he took another step forwards, crowding you up into the shelves, a hand on either side of your head to keep you kept from leaving, and a smirk took over as he watched you tremble a little. 

“Demon.”

You hissed the word out like an insult, and he feigned offence, before that wicked smirk he knew he was wearing twisted up into a sinister grin, head tipping to the side just a little. “Well, hey there, angel.”

“What do you want?”

“You’re very hostile. I haven’t even done anything to you.” He paused, eyes scanning over your face, closing in on the place where you were nibbling on your lower lip anxiously. “Yet.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then just kill me, demon. Get it over with.” You were shaking now, full-blown fear, and he let out a little sigh, dropping his hands but remaining where he stood. 

“There’s no fun in that, is there?” You only scowled, standing strong in spite of the fact that he could practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means; what are you doing on Earth, on all Hallow’s Eve?” You had the guts to shove at his shoulders a little, pushing past him to begin to collect your shopping back up, and he sank down into a squat, tipping the basket back to the way it should be, and placing the items back within it carefully, waiting for your answer.

“I live on Earth, and I’m running late to get home. Away from the likes of you.”

He handed you back your basket as the two of you stood, having gathered everything you could find, and he let out a low ‘oooh’ in teasing at your words, laughing through it as the furrow between your brows only deepened. “I thought angels didn’t live here anymore, not holy enough for you once it was corrupted with sin, so you all retreated back up to the promised lands, to spit on the rest of us from the clouds.” He sneered it a little, he couldn’t help it, but you avoided his eyes, shoulders sinking as you shrugged.

“Yes, well, that would be spectacular and all, but they don’t let halfbreeds into Heaven.” He waited, walking alongside you as you moved towards the counter, and he would laugh at his own image if he could see himself now, but somehow, here he was, wasting the only day of the year that he was free to walk around the surface and escape from the depths of the underworlds by helping you pack your groceries. “My father was one of them, and my mother was not. I’m just a cast out. Earning my way.”

“Interesting.”

You only deadpanned, punching your PIN into the machine a little more aggressively than he thought would be normal for you, but then again, you were on edge, and even with your soured mood, you still wished a cheery goodnight to the kid behind the register that made him sick with the amount of earnest goodwill lacing your tone. “What do you want from me, if not to kill me? Is this part of the thrill for you, to make me let me guard down and then to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“All demons want to kill people.” You stopped short at the door, and he almost bumped into you, close to dropping the bags in his arms as he avoided the collision, raising his brows a little bit as you glared at him, before snatching your backs from his arms and taking a wide step back from him. 

“I see I’m not the only ones with misguided ideas about the other.” He tried to take a step forward, but you twisted away from him, protective of your groceries and your life. “Not all demons want to kill. Some of us just get our kicks by convincing people to commit petty crimes and scaring kids on Halloween night. Well, that and stealing candy from babies, obviously.”

He could see the way you tried to suppress your amusement, but your lips flicked up at the sides, and you dropped your shoulders, seeming to give in. Your eyes rolled slightly, before you were moving once again, clearly trusting him enough to let him walk you over to his car, and he held your bags for you as you opened it, loading them into the trunk before slamming it shut, leaning against the cold metal. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, demons can only come up to the surface on H-”

“No, I don’t mean here.” You waved your arms, making a large circle that he supposed was supposed to represent the Earth, before you were pointing at the building behind you both, shaking your head. “I meant here. Like, the grocery store. Surely that’s wasting your one day.”

“Well, I met you, didn’t I, angel?”

“Stop being so.. flirty.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his stare, your true nature showing through, and a shock of thrill and excitement raced through him, tucking some hair behind your ear, before you shook him off. 

“Can’t help it. It’s in my nature. Lust, and the other ‘deadly’ sins, as such.” You didn’t reply, and as much as he hated to admit it, you were the most exciting thing that had happened to him in decades of Halloweens, so he gave in, moving a half-step away for you again to give you your space. “Not much to do at this hour, except kill people in alleyways. But, that’s not really my style.”

“I see.”

“Can I be brutally honest with you?”

“Have you lied to me, already? We’ve only known each other for twenty minutes. Then again, you are a sinner.” He chuckled at your pathetic jab, but shook his head in denial, soothing you a little. 

“Your life sucks.”

“It does not!” You crossed your arms over your chest, foot stomping a little, and it was an adorable display of anger if he was being true to his thoughts. 

“Yeah? Let me guess, you’re wearing scrubs so I reckon you work at a hospital or care facility, probably a volunteer too, or you do some kind of volunteer work to fill your time. You took a night shift tonight to cover for someone else, because you just can’t say ‘no’, even though you should’ve been inside keeping safe from ‘the likes of me’, as you put it, and I bet you’ve never even been kissed. You’re pure, completely and totally, you probably have a routine, oatmeal for breakfast, Church on Sundays, bible on the bedside table.”

You gaped at him, jaw hanging slack now, and he reached a finger up to push it closed, and you soon formed an irritated pout in response. 

“So, did I get anything wrong?”

“No.” You grumbled it under your breath, gritted out angrily, and he only laughed in response, winding you up further. Your foot swung out, colliding with his ankle before you even realised you were doing it, and as he bent over, crippled to grip at the sore patch in pain, your eyes went wide, fear suddenly flashing over your features again. I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that!”

“That would be wrath.” You shook your head, stepping away from him, and he could only nod in response, grin getting wider as he watched realisation flash across your features. “How did your first sin feel?”

“It doesn’t count! It was just a kick to the ankle!”

“Yes, in anger. That would be wrath, angel. It’s not that bad, trust me.” Your eyes were glassy now, and he placed a hand over your jaw, calloused pad stroking over the skin of your cheek as he tipped your head upwards. “See? No lightning strikes, no plagues, no punishments. And don’t you just feel so much better now that you’ve done it?”

“A little bit.” You gave in, letting his corruption really take place, and your eyes dropped down to find his, tearing your gaze away from dark and glittering skies. “I’m not a sinner, though. I’m good.”

“Yes, but this day is bad. Nobody is looking today. You liked it, I know you did. Don’t you want to try another sin? Just on this oh-so-evil day, and tomorrow, you can go back to being a good girl. Be bad with me today, angel?” You didn’t reject him, not right at once, and he took that as a good sign, your breath hitching as he stepped a little closer, enough for him to be able to taste the coffee on your breath at the short and sharp puffs you let out. “Have you never wondered? Which one have you always wanted to try, late at night, when it was just you and your thoughts? Is it pride? Gluttony?” He leaned in, enough to brush his lips with your own, your breath hitching in your throat. “Is it lust?”

“Sloth.”

“What?” He snapped back a little, not sure he’d ever really expected a response from you, and he felt a gleeful fire burn through you as you took your first step away from holiness and more towards him, just at the simple admittance, to both yourself and to him. Swallowing thickly, he watched as your mind spun, processing your own words, before you were seeming to settle on them with confidence. 

“I have a routine, just as you said. I get up early every morning, and have breakfast, and do some work. I volunteer at a shelter and I do rounds at the hospital even when it’s not my day in, just to pray with those who want some company, but some days I don’t want to. I’m tired, and I want to sleep in. I want to lay in bed until late morning, and fake calling in sick to work just to have a day off, to do anything I want.” You had your own smile now, something brand new flickering through your eyes, and as you looked at him, and he laughed breathlessly at the confession.

“So, do it.”

“I-” You seemed to remember who you were, and where you were, then disappointment took over. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He sighed, hand dropping down to your waist, pulling you closer into him, and he could feel the steady thumb of your racing heart against his chest now, and he wished his own would react at all, but it had been so long since he’d felt anything from the organ that he’d almost forgotten he had it at all. 

“If it’s so wrong then why does it feel so right?” You had no response to that, rendered breathless again, and he took his chance, pushing the boundaries a little further. “Give me this one day, I bet we can fit all seven sins into this day, when nobody will notice your sins when mixed with all the demons roaming the surface, and if you don’t like it, then I promise you’ll never see me again, and you’ll never have to think about it.”

“We can stop at any time?”

“Whenever you want.”

You hummed under your breath, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, before caving and offering him a nod. “Big words for someone who only has twenty-one hours left of the day to keep his promises.”

“Well, then, we’d better get you home, angel. You have a big day coming up, and I know just which sin to start with. Let’s get you that late morning you’ve always wanted.” You merely sighed out, contented and happy with the thought, before you were nodding, and turning around to get into your car. Nodding to the passenger side, his grin only grew as he took the offer, climbing in beside you, and settling into the plush leather as the vehicle rumbled to life.

After an exceedingly long sleep in, one where you’d actually then continued to just lie in your bed for upwards of an hour after the daylight had forced away your grogginess, you were left peering out of the window, staring down at the city below from the high-windows of your apartment, the bustling streets with a chaos that didn’t reach all the way up here to the serene quiet, and your lips flicked up at the sides as you remembered the comment that the man who’ already managed to flip your world upside down had made as the two of you had finally made it back to your apartment at almost four in the morning

‘Top floor, huh? Trying to get closer to heaven, or just in it for the workout?’

Turning onto your side, his lips were parted as he slept, slow breaths and a sight rasp following his breath each tie, but not quite a snore. As he was asleep, you had a chance to really observe him. You’d never met a demon, before, you knew the rumours, of course, and some of them were more tame, auras of darkness and a twisted kind of ugly that made you repulsed. Of course, there were also the wilder ones, horns and hooves and rotting flesh, but he was neither.

When you took him in, you decided that he was actually kind of beautiful. Scruff lining his jaw that made him look a little wild - something that was bound to be intentional - and the colour of his eyes flashed through your mind once again even if they were coed now. The colour was burned into your mind, not a glowing red, or all black, but instead the kind of soft blue shade that the ocean looked on a misty morning at the beach, grey clouds overhead that were the calm before the storm.

He was taller than you, much taller, and his frame almost filled your bed, broad shoulders pushing you to one side, further over than you’d ever slept before, even on the large piece of furniture, but he’ insisted that he wasn’t sleeping on ‘no damn couch’, and in your exhaustion and excitement, you’d simply waved a hand as he kicked off his shoes, crawling under the covers beside you. The comfort had been inviting, you’d never experienced such a thing before, but it was oddly peaceful to share a bed with someone else, to feel their warmth creeping over to you as well, the steady thump of a heart or the rise and fall of a chest with every breath, and you hadn't realised how lonely you were until right now.

“Stop fuckin’ starin’ at me.” You huffed, watching as that peaceful expression became a scowl, and he rolled over towards you a little, cracking an eye open to peer up at you. “What?”

“Nothing! You’re just not like what I thought a demon would look like. I’m taking it in.”

He sat up a little, running a hand over his face, before shaking his he'd to try and clear a sleep-muddled brain. “Yeah, well, you’re exactly what I expected an angel to look like.”

“I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult.” Despite the bickering going on between you both, his movements had caused the blankets to lip down, a chill coming in to claim you, and you shuffled a little closer to him, seeking out more of the warmth you’d become addicted to in the last few hours of sleeping beside him.

“It’s neither. Just a statement. Innocent, pretty, that whole weird ethereal vibe that draws you in. That's you.”

“That sounds like a compliment to me.” You all but sang the words, and he rolled his eyes, a grunt leaving him, but he made no move to distance himself from you, and so you knew it was all in false anger.

“I’m revisiting the idea of killing you.” His eyes flicked up to the large clock on the wall, studying it for a second, before turning to look at you incredulously. “I thought we were sleeping in? It's eleven.”

“I normally get up at six! This is late for me, very late.”

He only shrugged, pushing back the covers and standing up, letting you wrap yourself in them a little more, before he was patting down his pockets, searching for something in the jeans that had been abandoned on the bedroom floor. A cardboard box and a lighter, and he was balancing a cigarette between his lips.

“Open a window!”

He only glanced over at you, raising his brows, before stepping across the room to the large panels of glass, clicking off the lock and pushing one open, before flicking on the lighter and igniting the tip. He held it between two careful fingers, a repetitive motion as he brought it up and down from his lips, lips curling each time he expelled the smoke, and it was a weirdly hypnotic scene to watch.

The sound of the traffic and bustle from below was now reaching your ears, muffled and distant but you could still pick it up, the bitter smell of smoke still making it over to you, and your nose scrunched up a little, before you were holding the blanket closer to yourself, and making your way over to stand beside him.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve never seen a cigarette before.”

“I have!” He chuckled a little at your eager enthusiasm, heat rising to your cheeks with your embarrassment, and you shrugged as best you could, from where your hands were pressed to your chest to hold the blankets closed and keep your warmth in. “I’ve just never..”

“Smoked one?”

You only nodded, and he seemed to consider it, taking an extra-long drag, before he was pulling the dwindling stick away from his mouth, flipping it between two fingers, and bringing it to your mouth. He had an expectant look on his face, nothing pressuring or judgemental, simply apprehensive, waiting to see if you’d take the offer before the flickering orange reached his fingers and burned him. The taste was lingering on the air, and you leaned in, lip parted and he grinned, placing it gently on your lower lip, pushing forwards until the edge of his finger was brushing your lips, and he gave you a nod.

Sealing your mouth around it, you took in a deep breath, dragging the air through the device, and the heat that coursed through you was enough to make you pull away and cough, a tingling and burning in your throat and lungs as the smoke clouded out around you, dissipating in the air, and you once again flushed with embarrassment, but the laugh you anticipated hearing from him never came. Instead, he looked almost proud, and you didn’t have a chance to question it, before he was taking the last breath himself, stuffing it on your window frame and ignoring your complaint, before flicking the butt out of the window and closing it once again.

“So, what are we doing with the day now?”

“Hm, well, I promised you all seven. One down, six to go. I’m hungry, so let’s go with gluttony next.” His eyes twinkled a little, and you thought about the sparsely packed fridge you had, just enough simple necessities to get you by and be healthy, nothing that could be deemed even remotely gluttonous, but you were excited to experience it, nonetheless. “There’s a diner near here, we’ll go for breakfast.”

As promised, you are allowed to take even longer, the longest shower you had ever taken in your life, until the entire room was so filled with steam that it felt like a sauna, and you were pruning up. You didn’t even bother to make your bed, instead opting to just lay flat on it for a while, still in your towel as you listened to the demon you were - for some unknown reason - trusting, as he moved about your living room and tinkered with your things.

When you were finally ready, you didn’t care to make the bed, or put on sensible shoes with laces, or even do your hair properly. Instead, you wore a hoodie, and your comfiest flats, and just ran a brush through it, and you’d never felt lazier in your life. You had spent every day doing yourself up to standards and making sure you were being sensible and rational, the proper attire for a day at work, running around a hospital and doing everything you could for everyone else, and nothing for you, and today, you’d texted in saying you were sick and weren’t coming and you’d relaxed, truly relaxed, for what you felt may be the first time in your life.

As promised, you were given a filling breakfast, with more than enough leftovers for a week’s worth of breakfasts, but you didn’t take any of them. At first, it had bothered you, watching as the waitress stared at you both with a little bit of judgement, a little bit of shock, and a little bit of amusement as the man opposite you had listed off dish after dish, until you’d been moved to a bigger table just to accommodate it all. With a bite of it all, you’d worked your way through the dishes, and the drinks, a sip from all of their wide range of coffees and milkshakes, and by the time you’d finished and enough food to feed a small army had been wasted, you were wandering out into the carpark with a wide grin on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this full.”

He turned to look at you, beaming as you spoke the words as though they’d been a compliment, and you began to pat your pockets down for your keys, a wave of panic washing over you when you couldn't find them. A moment later, there was a jingling, and you followed the sounds, to find Bucky waving them at you, smirking around the straw in his mouth as he finished his milkshake, tossing the to-go cup in the vague direction of the trashcan.

“When did you even take those? How did you take those?”

“I’m not exactly new to pick-pocketing.” He shrugged, holding open the passenger side door for you, and you hopped up inside of it, grinning as he rounded the car, and it would seem that he was taking it upon himself to drive. Once he was inside of the car and starting it up, his hands were fiddling with the dial for the music, changing your classical music station over to some soft rock, and while it was unfamiliar to you, you tried to settle into it.

“You’re different.”

“We’ve covered this.” He mumbled, fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the song that was playing, and you turned a little more towards him straining against the safety belt across your chest, and not missing the fact that he hadn't bothered with his own.

“No, I just mean, you’re gentlemanly. You held the door, paid for breakfast, didn’t try anything with me last night, even though we shared a bed. It’s admirable.”

“Well, firstly, I didn’t pay for breakfast.” Your face paled a little, realising you’d essentially stolen the meal, but then again, you shouldn't know better. When he told you to go ahead and that he’d been right behind you, you hadn't questioned it, and now, that felt like it was slapping you right in the face. That’s where innocence gets you, you supposed. “Secondly, as I said, we already covered this. You do know there’s, like, tiers for this shit, right?” You only gave a short laugh, turning to look at him a little, and you could already feel your own mischief bubbling up within you.

“You mean the seven circles of hell?”

“Oh, you’re so funny.” He was grumbling now, pretty-coloured eyes rolling in his head, and you continued to snicker away to yourself, but didn’t miss the little flicker of his lips into a smile, that he did his best attempt to disguise as a simple twitch, but you knew better. “No, not the ‘seven circles of hell’.” He imitated your movie as you spoke, a scowl taking over your features at the poor impersonation, but it was quickly washed away. “More like, privileges, I suppose? Those down there because they’re not pure enough to go to all things good and dandy go down below.”

“So, how does it work, then?” He cast you a little glance, studying you for a second, deeming you to have a genuine interest, before one shoulder was raising and falling in a simple shrug.

“Those who are, like, the bad kind of bad get it, well, bad. People who killed for fun, the people who hurt others for their own enjoyment, people who do, y’know..” He didn’t have to say it, your face screwing up as you thought about exactly the sort of people who would count as ‘bad-bad’ and he nodded. “No privileges for them. They just get to suffer.”

It went quiet for a second, and you could practically see the cogs working in your new friend's mind as he tried to sort his thoughts out.

“Then, there are people who did bad things, but it’s not serial-killer bad, y’know?”

“Oh, like tax-fraud and grand theft auto?” He let out a laugh this time, entertainment shining through.

“Technically, yes. I don’t really know how it all divides up. It’s just my job to punish people who need punishing, I don’t ask questions.” That caught your attention, and you perked up slightly, ignoring the fact that you’d pulled into your building’s parking lot, and that the rest of the journey was over, the car coming to a halt, but instead, you were more intrigued about finding out more from the man before you.

“You punish people? The bad people?”

“Yeah. I suppose you can consider today my day off.” He grinned, moving to climb out of the car, and you struggled to follow him, falling into step beside him.

“But, doesn’t that make you good? Getting justice and all?”

“I never said I wasn’t good, angel.” He cast you a look from the sides of his eyes, a little put off by the insinuation you’d made. “I’m created in hell. I don’t really have a soul, or anything that would let me into Heaven. Besides, I do enjoy doing some of the things that would get me cast out.”

“Like what?”

You regretted asking the question from the second you’d asked it, a smirk taking over his features, and he turned to you in the doorway, finger under your chin to hold your face up towards his as he leaned down a little, breath washing over your face as your heart froze in your chest. “Like fucking.”

He watched you, heat crawling up your cheeks as your eyes went even wider, and he grinned, eyes flicking down to your mouth, licking over his lips for just a second, before he was pulling away.

“We can get to that later, though.”

He was ahead of you, long legs making wide steps as he crossed the lobby to the elevator back up to your apartment, and you had to race just to catch up with him. “So, do you have horns?”

“What?”

You slipped in just as the doors to the elevator were closing, and he scowled, clearly having been hoping he’d be able to cut you off, and you almost wished he had, because you'd forgotten just how cramped his large frame made the small box feel. “Y’know, like-” you lifted up each hand to the top of your head, index fingers sticking up as the rest of the fingers curled into a fist. “-horns?”

“Do you have wings?”

You felt a little taken aback by his sneer, lips pursing as you realised he’d taken your joke the wrong way, and you passed by a few floors in silence, before he let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping slightly.

“No, I don’t have horns.” He looked around the ceiling of the building when you stepped out of the elevator, a hand on your arm to bring you to a halt in the corridor, and he must’ve deemed it safe, before his fidgeting stopped. “I have something, but it’ll freak you out if I show you.”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t think so, angel.” You huffed, and he continued on, car keys being used to find your house key, the door swinging open, and you followed after, complaints spilling from your lips as you did, and you caught the door as it swung closed, before it had a chance to hit you in the face.

“I can handle it! You're underestimating me!”

“Am I?” He was making himself comfortable once again, already going through the contents of your fridge, pulling back with the carton of orange juice, and you cringed as he popped the lid from it and took a swig right from the bottle. “You’re just a half-angel. You can’t take it.”

Anger boiled within you, and you weren’t sure where this side of him had come from. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You gaped, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest as he finished off the orange juice of your own that was supposed to last you all week. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lot stronger than you think. I work in a hospital, okay? I can take whatever twisted shit it is that you have to show me. I can take a lot of things, alright, pal? I think I do pretty well for myself, actually! I mean, if you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in my penthouse apartment, drinking orange juice that I bought, after recklessly driving my fancy car, so screw you. I can handle anything you could throw at me and more, you’re just rude.”

His head tipped to the side, and you let out a ragged breath, not giving him a chance to speak, before you were continuing;

“And, for that matter, I think I’ve done pretty well all around. I have a great job, and I do good work there, and I have spent over two decades avoiding the likes of you, living all on my own, so this little hitch that came in the form of you doesn’t matter, because even after today, I’ll still be doing pretty damn good. ‘Can’t take it’, yeah, well, you can shove your freaky demon thing that you refuse to show me somewhere that the sun doesn’t shine, okay?”

You huffed out, and he crossed his arms over his chest, neutral expression cracking out into a wide grin. “That was a great speech, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, thanks.” You were confused, caught off guard by the praise after you were given, your mind still spinning.

“You seem pretty happy with everything you have here. Would you say you take pride in it?” You almost retorted, a witty comeback at the tip of your tongue, before you realised what this had all been about, your shoulders slumping, and you dropped your head into your hands, a weak laugh on your lips and you climbed up onto one of the stools at your kitchen island.

“You got me all worked up into a rage for pride?”

“You’ve achieved some pretty amazing things in your life, and you should be proud of them anyway, even if it’s not for sin.”

You paused, eyes meeting his own, and for a second, the whole misconception of an angel and demon sitting across from one another being the kind of thing that would end worlds seemed to fade away, you were just a regular man and a woman, sharing the moment and sitting together on a lazy morning. He cleared his throat, looking around the room, not for anything particular, just to take it all in, before coming back to look at you, with something else in his eyes this time.

“Well, that’s another one crossed off of the list, anyway. I’d say we’re making pretty good progress.”

You only hummed under your breath, but he seemed to catch onto your hesitation, raising a brow at you. “Kinda’ have an idea about greed.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Do you think, maybe, you could take me there?” He stilled, the hand he’d been using to rearrange the salt and pepper holder in the middle of the marble countertop between you both fell flat.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hell. It’s literally Hell.” He was adamant on this one, not the same kind of cocky attitude he’d had while fracking pride out of you, but this was more just a complete close down on the situation, and he didn’t even have a flicker of emotion as you glared at him, standing strong in his decision. “You can’t handle it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not fucking with you this time, angel.” He stood up, rounding the little countertop to stand before you, and he rested his hips against it, one hand coming up to cup at your face gently. A thumb ran over your lower lip, his eyes tracing his own movements, and you pulled back from him a little, too angry to let him hold you so tenderly, even if something deep within you was craving that kind of contact and affection with him. “Too dangerous.”

“But I want to.” You pouted at him, ignoring the little smile he gave to you as you did, and he forced his gaze back up to meet your own, shaking his head.

“What if you get stuck down there, huh? Time works differently. If it passes midnight, you won’t be able to come back.” The thought did send a flash of fear through you, and he seemed to notice it, thinking that the argument was over. “Besides, down there is where everyone else gets to show their real faces. Where you’d see mine.”

“You could just show me now, and then I wouldn’t have any kind of surprise.”

You didn’t expect him to go for that, to buy it, and you gasped a little as the man before you changed. Soft and fluffy brown hair was longer, brushing around his shoulders in strands that weren’t tied back into a bun, faded blue almost entirely taken over by black irises. His eyes were sunken a little deeper, some teeth a little sharper, jaw a little more defined, giving a much more dangerous look, the kind of intimidating you were sure was done purposefully to scare those who needed to be scared, crafted in the bowels of hell to torture the people who deserved it.

A deep pink and puffy scar ran along from the middle of his cheek and into the stubble on the right hand of his face, emerging further down along his neck. The sleeve of his left arm seemed to strain a little more now, shining metal poking out from underneath, a mixture of battered metal and shining steel, metal digits forming a fist as you stared down at the appendage.

Reaching a hand out towards him, he huffed, pulling it away from you, leaning the entire left side of his body out of your reach. “What are you doing?”

You ignored him, taking the hand in both of your own, and the coolness of it sent shocks along your nerves, goosebumps rising on your skin. He let you lift it, inspecting each finger carefully, gears shifting under your touch each time a finger moved, and he sighed as you lifted the hand, resting it over your cheek again, the same way he’d had it only moments ago, when it had been under the illusion of flesh and blood. “You still don’t scare me, Bucky.”

He let out a laugh, a breathless one, before he was closing the distance between the two of you, lips meeting your own, and a small squeak left you as his mouth pressed to your own carefully. It was all entirely new to you, feeling his other hand find your waist, nails scratching lightly at your skin through the material of your shirt, before you were placing your own hands on his shoulders, grasping at his shirt as you moved your mouth with his own.

It was slightly awkward, and slow, and you could feel yourself fumbling, but as your eyes slipped closed and you matched his rhythm, you found everything within yourself slipping away. You hadn't quite realised what it would be like, to have another person pressed up so close to you, and to know how it felt when their eyelashes tickled your cheeks the way his were know, that feelings within your stomach like fireworks were going off was making you feel lightheaded, gasps for breath each time he pulled back, twisting his head, noses bumping, before softly swollen lips were finding you once again.

It was of their own accord that your hands slipped from his shoulders to his neck, one travelling even further into his hair, gripping tightly as you pushed up into him, almost falling from your chair as your legs went weak as you tried to stand a little, and he turned you around, lower back pressing into the cool marble for support, before a low growl sounded out. It reverberated along your entire body, and you trembled a little under his hold, teeth dragged over your lower lip, before he was pulling away.

You were chasing after him, feeling his grip loosen on you and you whined, catching his lips again in a little kiss, a chuckle breaking it as he backed away enough to rest his forehead on your own.

“Don’t be greedy. I’ll kiss you again, later.”

“Or, you could kiss me now?” You teased, letting him lift you up to sitting on the countertop, and he wrapped your legs around his waist, thumb smoothing over your cheek as he felt that same embarrassed warmth flood your skin. He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, using his nose to tilt your head back, before he was nipping lightly about the pulse point along your neck, and you weren’t in control of the sound that left you as he did, or the way your thighs tightened around his waist.

“I could, but, I thought you wanted to go to Hell.”

“I do.” You mumbled, before realising fully what he’d said, and you pulled him back by a handful of his shirt between his shoulder blades, darkened eyes finding yours in a curious gaze. “I do. Are you serious?”

“You have to promise to stay by my side.” You nodded, vehemently, a wide smile taking up on your face. “You also have to wear a watch.”

“I thought time worked differently?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, taking your chin between his thumb and a metal forefinger, cutting off your laughs with a short kiss.

“It does, that’s the whole point. We need to know when to get you home.”

You only nodded, dropping down and disappearing, searching through your drawers and cabinets until you found the device you were looking for, checking its display against the wall clock on your bedroom wall, and thanking your lucky stars that it still displayed the correct time. You were attaching it to your wrist and waving it at him proudly as you reemerged, and he held his hand out for you.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Well, you only live once, right?” He huffed, fixing you with a pointed stare, and you burst out in a series of little laughs at your own words. “Well, some of us only live once, anyway.” He took your hand in his, barely letting you swipe up your keys before you were following him out of the door and back towards the stairs, stumbling over your own feet slightly. “Am I going to have to die for us to get there?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?” The crackling in his voice was amusement, and you shrugged, letting him guide you through the door that said ‘staff only’, and at this point, you’d stopped even questioning his actions.

“Well, I don’t exactly see a lot of portals to hell on my day-to-day travels.”

“It’s like a door that only demons can open. On this day, of all days. Sorta’ like a magnet, you just think about it, and it pulls you to where you're supposed to be.” It wasn’t exactly a description that set you at ease, and as you made it to the top of the staircase he was pulling you up, you were met with the sight of the sprawling skyline, the sounds of a busy city filled with people who were none the wiser to your current situation going about their mundane lives below, and even after today, you know you’d never be that same mundane person again.

Stepping out onto the roof, you were in awe, never having ventured up and gotten to appreciate it, and while your apartment was high up and the view was the same, it was more the experience that was leaving you speechless.

“Are you ready?”

When you followed the sound of his voice, he was standing on the edge of the building, hand held out to you once again, and you weren’t sure when you’d ever slipped away from him. You wandered over, nausea sweeping across you as you leaned over the edge to look down, the people on the streets below looking more like specks in the distance, and you pulled back rapidly. “To jump off the roof? That’s seriously the way to go?”

“It’s the fun way.”

You scoffed, knowing he was just doing it to mess with you, and he took your hands in his, guiding your gaze back up to his face. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and you held on tightly, feeling him grip your waist, pulling you in close.

“Just trust me, angel.”

For whatever reason, you did. You had full faith in a man who’d you’d only known for twelve hours, feeling him inch the two of you towards the edge, up onto the ledge, until you were precariously balanced, and your heart was threatening to beat right out of your chest. Pressing your face into his neck, his grip on you became bruising, and then you were falling.

The floor fell away, and you were racing downwards, hair whipping around your face as your eyes squeezed shut, that floating feeling becoming more like you were being dragged down. It was cold, biting cold, and utterly terrifying, and then it all just stopped. There was ground beneath your feet again, blood wasn’t pounding in your ears as you found yourself upright once again, and you were only dizzy from the way you’d held your breath, not from tumbling such a distance, and you forced yourself to exhale, slowly.

When you pulled away from him, the hand stroking soothingly up and down your back then stopped, and he lifted it to smooth down your hair instead. Whereas in your apartment, he’d seemed out of place and daunting in his own skin, now, he seemed to fit in perfectly. Shadows cast across his face made his features stand out, strong and bold, and instead of being scared you felt protected by his presence. It wasn’t nearly as loud as you’d expected it to be, and it was the exact opposite of what you’d pictured.

Instead of burning pits of fire and tortured screams, it was much like what Earth was, buildings and pathways and doors along each one, a reflection of the home you’d known so well, just with a little more destruction. He seemed to already know exactly what you were thinking, smirking his eyes a little, but you just accepted it, taking it all in. There was a bump against your lower leg, something soft that made you jump, and the man holding you chuckled. Turning, you watched a little cat run away. It had a torn ear and was missing an eye when it looked back at you, before it was dating through an open door before it closed, and you gaped a little as you lost sight of the orange-furred little critter.

“That was a cat.”

“Well, yes.” He deadpanned, hissing at the way you pinched his arm roughly for his words, and he mumbled under his breath about being careful before you ‘inadvertently achieved wrath’. “Haven’t you ever heard about cats being the guardians of the underworld?”

“In, like, Egyptian mythology, maybe.”

“Yeah, well, all myths and fables come from somewhere, right? Everything you’ve heard is just one interpretation of the same thing. Like versions of a story.” He offered, and you felt like every answer you got became all the more confusing, like you had no real idea about the world you’d been living in at all, until now. “C’mon. We have much to do, and little time.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You wanted to come here, that’s your choice.” He shrugged, and you gave him a blank look, as though you had any idea about what you were supposed to be doing. He seemed to pick up on it, a smile on his lips, before he was slinging an arm over your shoulders, and beginning to guide you away towards a door only a few down from one that you’d seen that little orange cat disappear through. When you got into the other side, you were in the hospital, the time seeming to move differently, everything around you flying by at super speed. “What’s the worst thing you ever witnessed in the hospital?”

“What?”

“The west thing. One of your patients, something you remember because it was just downright evil.” It took you a moment, but the worst one came to mind, and you felt sad witnessing it all over again.

“There was this man in here, once. Both he and the kid across from me were my patients. The kid was a car crash victim, both parents died, he was on life support, we were doing everything we could. If the kid died, he would have been the organ donor. The man smothered the kid in his sleep, we didn’t realise until the autopsy was done, by which point the guy had fled.” You shrugged, and he asked for the date, to which you mumbled, that day burned into your mind to last forever.

With a wave of his hand, that same speed that had been dizzying to watch as it moved like a movie on fast-forward was now frozen completely, and with a click, there was an entirely new setting.

Easter decorations, all around the hospital, Mercedes at the reception desk still had her hair dyed blue instead of her usual fiery red, the colour had taken a good couple of years to totally grow out; somehow, he’d taken you right back to the night that it had happened. Rainy, filled with clouds, water swilling around your car, and there was a loud storm outside. You remembered because it felt fitting, and it almost felt comforting when you’d cried in your car about it all before being able to drive home that night.

“Which room?”

“I, um, room three-oh-four.” You guided him through the halls, completely in awe of the way it resembled your place of work so clearly, and yet nobody could see it at all. You could see yourself, a younger version, standing behind the nurse's station and covering your yawn with your hand, a file in your hand as you tried to focus on it, and it was shocking to see it from such a different angle. You froze up a little as you approached the room, the two opposites, and you felt your heart crack a little at seeing that little boy alive once again, even if it was just barely. “That’s the guy.”

He followed the direction of your finger, a head of black hair in the bed across, idling himself on his phone, and Bucky stepped into the room, a sneer on his lips. Glancing at the name across the chart, he couldn't quite see it, but you already knew it anyway.

“Brock Rumlow.”

“Sounds like an asshole kinda’ name, already.” You could only nod, and just like that, Bucky was moving the timeline forwards again. Day to turned to night outside, you watched as he disappeared for a second, only to reappear a moment later, and then there was night becoming day, and he was taken to surgery, and the day flew by, bodies flying in and out, the flash of your own floral-patterned dress as you move in and out throughout the day, and then, a week later, he was leaving. It slowed, you watched as he went, following him right out of the hospital and into a cab, and he was none the wiser as in this turn of events, you and Bucky joined him.

It went by again, years flying back, Bucky’s eyes moving as he somehow seemed to see and understand every moment, before suddenly, it was all stopping. You were out of the cab, but when you left it, it was a firetruck instead. The building before you was burning, thick plumes of smoke curling up into the air, windows were broken as tall flames curled up and roared into the sky. Sirens were wailing, and water was spraying, and you could feel the heat even from here.

“Building fire.”

“Hm?” You twisted to look at him, and the demon beside you motioned up to the building.

“That’s how the universe got even with Brock Rumlow. He stole organs from a child, and he got trapped inside his apartment. He’s down here.” You felt your breath get stuck in your throat as he said those words, before you were finding his hand, gripping tightly with both, and his fingers curled back around your hand, before he was sighing, loudly. “Do you want to see him now?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, everything around you seeming to go into slow motion as he dulled the sounds, before you were pressing yourself into him a little more, feeling his lips brush against your temple as you let out a breathless laugh.

“I’ve thought so much about what I would do if I ever saw him again. Give him a piece of my mind, tell him how bad of a person he is, make him feel bad. Now, though, I’m not all that sure I could control myself.”

“Who says you have to?” You peered up at him, eyes wide, and he shrugged, cupping your face with both hands as he watched panic begin to take over you. “He’s a child killer, a selfish prick, he deserves everything he gets down here. This is a place for punishment, and maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay.”

He took your hand, the closest door to the two of you opening back up, and just like that, you were back in the stone hallways, crossing over to a wooden door, bolted from the outside, and as his hands wrapped around the handle, it changed, simplistic designs shifting to that of one you’d expect to see on a little farm cottage, before he was opening it up and ushering you inside.

“Where are we?”

“His Hell-scape.” The door scratched against cobblestones as it was pushed shut behind you. “Germany, early nineteen forties, the precipice of modern medicine. It’s cold, and he’s fled from the war, he’s taking shelter in a little farm cottage. He needs surgery, and you’re about to perform it. There’s a kid, who could donate the blood, he’s sitting over there by the fireplace.”

Just as he said that, the door swung open once again, and there he was, stumbling inside as blood seeped between his fingers, and just like that, for the first-ever time in one of these scenarios, he was looking you dead in the eyes. He begged for help, and the little boy by the fireplace looked up, wide eyes and he was on his feet, dashing over to you. He cleared the table, helping the man to lie down, like the good little soul he was, and you ushered him away upstairs. With a knife from the kitchen, you sliced open the front of his shirt, watching as blood oozed out of several bullet wounds across his front.

Blood spewed out, and for a second, guilt washed over you as you hesitated in your motions to save him, but then you were remembering everything he’d done, and you could feel the presence of Bucky behind you, the scene you’d relieved as you watched the evil take place, and you felt no regret as you pushed a finger against one of the wounds. Hard metal met your finger, blood-curdling screams from him on the table as you pushed it even deeper, before pulling away, and making sure that he was looking you in the eyes as he did.

You weren’t sure if he was able to recognise you, or whether he was completely engrossed inside of this illusion, but you swore you saw something pass over his eyes, seconds before he was passing out. Little feet were coming down the stairs, and the boy was there again, watching rivers of blood dripping into puddles as they ran from the tabletop, a teddy tucked safely in his arms as he looked up to you again.

“Are we going to save his life?”

“No.” You hummed, wiping your hands on a rag, and it was shockingly different to see the way the boy whose eye colour you’d never seen before looked, how young he really was, and you took him by the hand as you guided him up the stairs. Tucking him in and brushing the hair back out of his face, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he fell asleep before your eyes, chest rising and falling of its own accord. It wasn’t real, you felt it slipping away under your fingers, and when you made it back down the stairs, the man on the table was dead, hand hanging limp, and it all slipped away.

Darkness filled the room, the features melted away, and he guided you back to the corridors, tears sliding down your cheeks as you left it all behind.

There was concern on his face when he looked at you, but you didn’t care, because you were pulling him in by a fistful of his shirt in order to press desperate and needy kisses to his lips. He reciprocated, humming happily as his hands found your hips, smoothing around towards your back, one warm and one cold as they pressed to you, and your wet cheeks pressed to his, gasping breaths as you sought out comfort in his touch.

“Are you okay?

“I’ve never felt like this before.” He pulled back, whining a little when you kept pressing up into him, and he pushed you back a little bit, ignoring your complaints. “It’s a rush, and it felt bad but only for a second, before it felt right. Not to hurt someone else, but to serve justice. I love saving lives, I do, but that felt incredible. It felt like closure.”

“You officially checked off wrath, angel.”

“I don’t think you can call me that anymore.” You teased, and he shook his head, pulling you in close enough to brush his lips against your own. It was a fleeting kiss, something that left you desperately craving more as you burned up from the inside out.

“You’re always gonna’ be my little Halloween angel.” He grinned, trying to wipe your cheeks dry.

“I think I’m checking off envy, too.” He beamed, raising his brows in silent questioning, and you gave him a lame shrug of your shoulders in response. “I just don’t think I could go back to my regular life and be happy now, knowing there’s so much more that I could be experiencing. My job won’t be fulfilling when I know how much better it would be to do yours, and be here. I hate that you don’t worry about anything, that you haven't spent your whole life worrying if you're good enough to get into somewhere only to spend the rest of eternity keeping up those standards. I wouldn’t have to be anyone but my true self here, and now, I’m not even sure if I know who that is.”

“You could find out, though.”

“Also, there’s a girl over there who keeps looking at you and I don’t like it.” He glanced over his shoulder, noting the pretty demon who was waving at him, tight curls and red lipstick and she looked like she was straight out of the world war’s era, but then again, everybody down here seemed to be fixed in some kind of time period or another.

“Envy doesn’t suit you, angel. You much more suit pride.”

His fingertips pressed into your sides a little, tickling you lightly, and you grinned, mind leaving her as you came crashing back into a world where only you and he existed. Dipping down, his nose brushed with yours, and you closed the gap, sighing out happily when you felt the rough prickles of his beard under your palm, the other hand sliding down to rest on his chest.

The tip of a tongue traced your lower lip, and you gasped at the feeling, before his tongue was pressing through the parting and into your mouth, a needy noise slipping from you before you could control it, leaving you feeling like you were floating within the clouds as you fell even further into him. You were pressed up to him now, bodies colliding, and what was once slow and sensual suddenly felt like it was rushed and frantic. Mouths meshing, growls and whines shared between you both and you were ruining the neat bun in his hair as your hands were pushed into his mouth.

His hands were exploring too, further than they’d ever been, one solid and one fleshy and then there was a warm palm gripping tightly at your ass, squeezing the flesh there roughly, and you keened up into him even further. Metal lifted you up, your legs fastening around his waist automatically, and you could feel him moving as you gripped onto him roughly. One hand digging nails into his shoulder as the other tugged on a fistful of his hair, a ragged moan leaving his lips as the two of you stumbled through the nearest doorway. Bedsheets found your back, and you were breathing clearly again as a hot mouth travelled along your jaw.

Stinging skin, drags of his teeth over heated flesh, and you were living in a world you’d never been in before as you felt those same hands now dip underneath your shirt, beginning to push it up as he adventured further.

“Where are we?” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the low hanging lighting extension from the ceiling, and he pulled back from the mark he was working to leave on your collarbone, an incredulous look on his face as he peered up at you. Swollen and shiny lips, half-lidded eyes, and a slight shine to his skin that paired with his messy hair made him look even more sinful than he usually did.

“My, uh, my room?” You sat up a little more to take it in, and he leaned back from where he was balanced over you, letting you take it all in.

“How convenient that all the doors you need are so close together.” He grinned, shaking his head in a way that made you think you were missing something, and he pulled you to sit up a little more, the haze over you both clearing slightly.

“Sweetheart, most of the doors work like the entrances, you just have to think about where you’re going, and you go there.”

It was like your world was clearing up, and as he knelt back, you moved forwards enough to settle into his lap, a soft giggle leaving you when you felt his hands come down to grip at your ass to keep you balanced, a smirk on his face as you did. “I was kinda’ expecting, like, bones on the wall, dungeons, dark, flickering torches, the whole shebang. I’m almost disappointed that it looks like a normal bedroom.”

“You have a bad habit of believing stereotypes.” He muttered, leaning in again to take your lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly, and you keened up into him, finding the mattress either side of you dipping a little as he held himself up over you. “And I thought that after everything we’d done today, you’d have reconsidered it all.”

“Well, after all we’ve done today, I still have one sin left to complete.”

He grinned, nodding his head before his mouth was closing over your own. With one warm hand gently pushing up the edge of your shirt, you let him take it, sitting up just enough to let him peel the material from your body, before he was kissing along your neck, licking and sucking his way along the flesh until it was stained with blotchy red marks that would blossom into purple bruises sooner or later.

Then, as his fingers brushed over the delicate skin of your ribs, he was letting out a breathy laugh, pulling away once his lips were grazing the edge of your bra.

“Angel, I gotta’ be honest with you. I really like you, I do, but this bra is awful.”

You looked down at yourself, head clearing for just a second, before you were groaning, shaking your head as you looked down at the garment strapped to your body. “I don’t own any other bras! They’re practical, they support me at work. I’ve never really had a reason to own fancy underwear."

You were popped up on your elbows, and he grinned wickedly, metal hand undoing the catch with a simple flick of his fingers, and then it was falling loose. “Bet you’re wearing cute little white cotton panties, too, huh?”

You could only nod, feeling a blush beginning to climb onto your cheekbones, and it was a feeling you were rapidly growing familiar with while being in his presence.

“You drive me insane, in all your innocence. Am I the first person to get near your sweet little cunt? Tell me I am, angel.”

“You are.” You were breathless, everything from the way his lips curled around the words, to the sound of his voice, right to the way his eyes raked over you in a way that could only be described as predatorily, made your body burst out in flames, craving something you didn’t even know, but you just knew you needed him to keep going, to continue with whatever it was he was doing, because he had you floating on Cloud Nine.

“I’m gonna’ take such good care of you, I promise.” As he pulled the material away from your chest, that heat was spreading down, along your neck, and yet you didn't feel anything but powerful under his gaze. You’d never expected to have this kind of life, after hearing from your mother what had happened to your father for his sins, you were determined not to follow that path, but now, you wanted it all. You didn’t care about standards and responsibilities, you just wanted to drown in the way his tongue was dragging along your stomach as he left wet kisses along your skin, until he was mouthing at the place just above your jeans, soft skin teased with lips and teeth, until he was popping the button on your jeans carefully.

He took it all, stripping you down and taking his time, mumbling praises into your skin until there was nothing else clad on you, except for the slip of cotton over your core, and he was kneeling back at the end of the bed, two large hands palming at your thighs, and he licked over his lip, dragging the lower between his teeth roughly.

“Fucking hell, angel, you’re drippin’.” A single digit, lifting to brush over your covered folds, and as you were touched so intimately, you couldn't help the gasp that slipped from you. “Ruining your panties, sweetheart, soaking right through ‘em.”

“Please.”

He looked up as you whispered the words, eyes already blown out dark with lust, the grey-blue colour you so deeply adored was almost entirely gone, and it was like the tension in the room shot up even further. “Do you even know what you’re asking for, angel, or do you just want more?”

There was a teasing undertone laced in his voice, and you would’ve commented on it, snapped back at him for his taunt, had it not been for the way he lifted that finger up, knuckle brushing over the pulsing bud between your legs, and then he was circling it, a dull pressure applied, and your hips left the bed as your back arched. “That! I want more of that.”

“So fucking pretty, all needy and beggin’ for me, already.” He switched his positions, instead of a knuckle, it was the flat of a finger, and you were already shaking under his touch as your entire body lit up with fireworks. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once we do, there’s no going back. You don’t want to save yourself for someone special?”

“I’m already with someone special.”

His motions paused, before a slightly bashful smile took over his face, and you giggled upon looking at him, sitting up enough to take his face in your hands, moaning against his lips as he picked his movements back up, just to drive you crazy. “You sweet-talkin’ me, angel?”

“Nobody would ever believe me if I could make a demon blush.”

“Just something about you. Don’t know what it is, but you drive me crazy.” He whispered, closing the distance as you continued to test him, a sloppy kiss that was more collisions of lips and tongue, and you could barely keep up. You were so focused on the way it felt to be utterly surrounded by every inch of him that you didn’t feel him move until the barrier of fabric was gone, tearing meeting your ears and then there was nothing between you both, a calloused finger gathering the wetness you’d built up, slick on his finger, and your breath hitched as the tip of that same warm digit traced your entrance.

Anticipation, anxiety, and slight fear washed over you, and he seemed to sense it, from the way that you tensed up, before he was pushing you back down to lay in the bedding, body pressed to your own. You were tugging at the shirt on his shoulders, whining a little, before he let you pull it up, holding himself up long enough for you to strip it away.

“Let me open you up, okay? Get you ready, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stealing a final kiss, he distracted you, the way a finger slipped inside was something entirely new, your closed eyes snapping open again, and he let out a long and deep sound into your mouth, feeling every inch of your walls clamp up around his intruding finger, wet and velvet and enticing. He pumped it slowly, a wince on your face at the pull at your entrance, before you forced yourself to take a deep breath, focusing instead on the way his lips felt on your skin, and the way it felt when your bare flesh was gliding over his.

Erotic, sweat built up that made your skin stick against his in the most arousing way, the dips between his muscles shining, making everything about him stand out even more prominently, and you had never allowed yourself to consider a man as particularly attractive before, but now you were seeing through a whole new gaze, you were certain it couldn't get much better than him. Sharp jaw, pretty features, broad shoulders and a mouth to give up all innocence for, you couldn't even blame yourself for giving everything up to him.

There was a curling of his finger, the blunt nail dragging over your walls, and a shudder ran along your entire body as he did, a cry of his name leaving your lips, and suddenly, the final puzzle seemed to click into place. There was something romantic about offering yourself up to someone like this, something incredibly intimate about the way it felt to let yours be this vulnerable under someone else’s gaze, and you had never felt anything like this in your entire life.

A twisting in your lower belly, muscles clenching, and then another sting, a second finger sliding into you with ease as you all but dripped for him, the pain far more tolerable and even a little bit pleasurable this time around, before you were stretched around two thick fingers, barely processing the words he was offering to you, because your vision was going fuzzy and you felt like you’d left all forms of reality that you’d ever known.

Hands clenched in the sheets, tugging them roughly as you stiffened, and a soothingly cold hand pressed down on your chest, you hadn't realised your heart was racing and you were dragging in desperate breaths until the weight of the limb forced you to calm down. Bringing a hand up, you clung to him, frantic for some kind of grounding connection as you felt the rest of your inhibitions slip away. It felt like you were breaking down that final gate, like you were bursting from a cage, freedom and liberation and a feeling you’d never had before but were already addicted to the taste of.

Your throat stung, eyes burning from unshed tears, before he was pulling those fingers from you, an obscene slurping finding your ears, and you weren’t sure when your eyes had rolled back, or when your body had left the bedding, but when you collapsed back down into the soft cushions, with deep and raspy breaths, and forced your eyes open, he was licking crudely at his fingers, watching you carefully, something between caring and cocky stitched into his features.

“What just happened?”

“You just had your first orgasm, baby. How’d it feel?” He wiggled his brows, a smile that made you laugh, and you were still trembling, forcing yourself to relax as you melted into the blankets and untangled your fingers, surprised you hadn't ripped them entirely.

“I loved it.”

“Good.” The tip of his nose bumped against your own, and yet he never granted you a kiss, swerving away just long enough to settle himself between your thighs. “So much I want to do to you, so little time.”

He tutted to himself, and the denim of his jeans brushed over your sensitive centre as he dipped his head down. You weren’t sure where to focus, whether you were meant to fix your attention on the way his lips seal around one perky bud of a nipple, or the way you were meeting him roll for roll as you ruined the front of his jeans, material growing damp with your juices as you pleasured yourself, broken noises let out into the air as he abused your chest, switching between your breasts until he was satisfied with the way he’d left your skin spit-slick and shining.

A hand in his hair, you dared to take control, sick of waiting, and just wanting to get to the main event, what you did now know, and you needed it more than you’d ever needed anything in your entire life. You hadn't felt truly alive, or comfortable in your own body, until this moment, as he brought you to life and made you see stars, gave you things you’d never even known existed.

“Bucky, please. I can’t take waiting any longer.”

“Okay, angel. I got you, I know what you need.” He managed to peel himself away, a cool breeze sweeping in where he’d once been before he was stripping himself down of the remaining garments covering his body, and you felt your mouth go dry as he was finally revealed to you. He may have been crafted in hell, the epitome of sin and debauchery, and you weren’t surprised that so many people gave up on their purity to give in to lust, because you were just as weak as the rest of them as you looked at him.

Toned and tanned flesh, tapering down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist, defined muscles, sinewy skin and prominent veins, before a hard and leaking cock as bobbing in the air before you. He seemed to know you were admiring him, taking in every detail and committing it to memory, because he flexed a little, a look on his face that you were oh-so-familiar with, before you were reaching out to him.

He was happy to crawl into your arms, lifting your legs onto his waist, sticky pre-cum smearing across your thigh, before he was dipping into your wetness, gathering it up as he rocked his length against your folds, shared breath turning to pants as his forehead rested to your own. “Before we do this, I just wanted to say something.”

“Hm, don’t tell me you secretly have a tail that only comes out when you cum.”

He shook, his entire body wracked by the laugh that he let out, and he pulled back far enough that you could see the sparkle in his eyes, before he was shaking his head, a series of pecks pressed to your lips between muffled giggled from the pair of you, until you managed to calm down. “No, sorry to ruin another one of your predetermined opinions on demons.”

“I’ll get over it.”

He delivered a particularly sharp thrust, the tip of his cock bumping your clit, making your jerk in his hold, and you encouraged him on quickly, the scrape of your nails along his back making him hiss out. “I wanted to say that I haven’t felt like this in centuries, you’ve flipped your whole world upside down in just twenty-four hours. I wanted you to know that this is special, between me and you, just so you don’t regret it in a few days, when you think about us, when you're back home in your fancy apartment and living your normal life.”

“I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”

He took the compliment, not bothering to reply, but leaning in to take your lips with his own in a passionate kiss, as another hand slipped between your bodies to line himself up, before he was inching into you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. When he saw your face screw up, his hand caught yours, fingers weaving together and pressing back into the mattress, confirming that he was with you, an apology for the pain and a promise that it would go away without him even having to speak.

As his hips finally came to press to your own, you were holding back a sob, the wide girth and length he had were far more than his fingers had been, and while you’d stretched to accommodate him, it was still a new struggle, and you let out a low breath, feeling the soft presses of pecks along your cheeks and jaw, as he waited patiently. There was tension in his body, from top to bottom, feeling his muscles clench under your hands, and you rolled your hips experimentally.

A shot of pain, a whimper from your lips, but you weren't sure if that sound came from the sharp pain or the heated pleasure, a burst of it from within you, and your jaw dropped, and he let out a ragged sound, face pressed into your neck. “Holy shit, angel, you’re squeezin’ me like a fucking vice, tightest damn pussy I’ve ever known. Perfect, just like the rest of you.”

You grinned, hating the way that his filthy words could slide right into something endearingly sweet that had your stomach flipping and your heart skipping beats, all within in a split-second. “You can move now, it’s okay.”

He only gave a short nod, before he was doing as you offered, pulling back just enough to press back into you, a shallow thrust that didn’t offer much, drawn-out and delicate, but then there was another, stronger and faster, and he moved slowly, inch by inch each time, until he was pulling himself from you almost completely, and sinking back into your sodden heat.

“Oh, fuck.”

He bit down on your shoulder as you swore, cursing himself under his breath, tongue lapping over the spot. When he raised his head, there were wisps of brown hair plastered to his forehead, messy and tangled and you thought he looked stunning this way. Pink flushed cheeks, wide eyes, glistening skin, it was almost angelic, and there were certainly bits of him that made you question his allegiance, but then again, in the span of just one day, he’d made you question absolutely everything you ever knew.

Deep and fast thrusts, and you could feel every throb, every drag of him within you, each time he pulled away just to sheath himself within you once again, and you could feel your own throat stinging with the continuous loops of noises that you were letting out for him. He shifted, slowing for just a second, before one of your legs was being hiked up from his waist to his shoulder, and then, it was getting even better.

You thought he’d shown you the height of pleasure, that the feeling of being connected with him in such a way was all that it could be, but then he was reaching all new depth that made you scream. You couldn't take it, the continuous pounding on that little patch that made everything go blank. Stars in your eyes, white noise that barely let through the sounds of his loud moans and sobs of pleasure, but you could feel him coming undone atop of you, the way his pace faltered and his arm gave way, pressing you into the bed as he lost all semblance of self-control.

He was fucking into you without mercy, and you knew you’d be sore in the morning but right now you needed more. Your heel was digging into his lower back as you came unravelled once again, a peak crashing over you that was ten times stronger than the first had been and you were clinging to him like he was your only lifeline. Fingertips were digging into his flesh, nails raking red welts into his skin and he was growling and grunting, before gripping you with a hold so tight it was bruising, and a whole new kind of warmth washed over you.

His heavy-weight collapsing onto you was enough to warm you from the outside, but then he was spilling deep within you, a broken sound that tailed off at the end as his voice cracked, and you decided that in that exact moment, if you never got to experience anything this good ever again, you’d always cherish exactly how it felt to be marked and claimed as his, to know that no matter what, a little piece of your heart and soul would always belong to him, and him to you.

When he finally stopped moving, he didn’t pull out, but instead, rolled the two of you over until you were cushioned against his chest, and cheek pressed over the racing heart under his chest, and you grinned to yourself at knowing that you could make his heart do that, the organ he hadn't felt used in so long was now in overdrive under his ribs, and it was all for you. It wasn’t love, it couldn't be, it had only been a day; infatuation, curiosity, adoration, a range of emotions flooded through you but it was the possibility of something entirely new, and you thought it was perfect.

Clearly, he was feeling it too, because when you finally moved away from him, his eyes opened again, a weak sound of protest coming from him as you removed yourself from his body, laying down beside him, and sitting up a little, offering him a smile as he watched you. “Don’t leave yet. Stay with me a few more minutes.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet, don’t you worry.” He was put at ease by that, you could see it from the way his shoulders slumped, and the breath he let out, before his arms were circling your waist and he was collapsing down against you.

You may never get into the version of ‘Heaven’ you’d always believed you were destined for, but this was more than that, it was everything you never knew you needed. Bringing a hand up to his hair, you wove your fingers into the damp strands, and he rumbled blissfully at the feeling, nuzzling further into your body as he did.

The rough stubble on his cheeks tickled you, made you want to shove him away and laugh out loud, but you wanted to hold him and comfort him more, the man overwhelmingly clingy after being intimate, and you treasured it. You had no experience to compare anything to, he was the master here, and you were learning everything, and you were sure to him that was like learning to walk while he was running marathons and doing hurdles, but he was patient and kind, and it was just another thing you’d assumed wrong about him.

Twenty-four hours ago you were someone completely different. Pure, and innocent, and completely unaware of the world you were a part of, and now, you never wanted to go back. He’d made you a promise that everything could be forgotten by midnight if you didn’t like it, but you wanted these memories and these moments burned into your mind forever, never to be taken away from you, so you’d always live in the time that your life changed for the better.

“So, I get it now.”

“Get what, sweetheart?” His words were given to you in a whisper, from where his cheek was pressed to your stomach, and you continued his hair, enjoying the happy rumble he let out as you did. The watch on your wrist showed the time, and you watched as he checked it, letting out a disgruntled little huff, before he was squeezing you a little tighter once again.

“Lust. Why so many people give in to it. That was incredible.”

“It only gets better. Didn’t want to break you on your first time, though.” He pressed a kiss to your skin, snickering as you scoffed at his words, and then he was pulling away far enough to sit up. You could see the scarring along his left shoulder so much clearer now, metal meeting flesh, bound with red scarring that marred beautiful golden skin, and yet his imperfections only made him seem even more perfect to you. “Maybe next year we’ll explore some more.”

“Next year?”

“Halloween is almost over, sweetheart.” You let him crawl further up your body, searching for your lips with his own until he wound his way home, and you flopped back into the pillows, taking him with you, breathless laughs expelled into both mouths until he was pulling away. “Mhm, no. When you kiss me like that, we get carried away.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, I like to think I can hold out, and I don’t think we could get everything I want to do to you done within six minutes.” He sighed dramatically, before rolling off of you and onto the bed beside you.

“What if we had more than six minutes?” He twisted his head studying you for a minute, before his lips were parting, and he was pulling your hands from where you were picking at the loose threads on the bedsheets, and he was bringing your knuckles to his mouth, gentle kisses pressed to them.

“Don’t speak in riddles, we don’t have the time for that.”

“What if I stayed?”

He sat up a little more, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You know if you stay, this is the only place you’ll ever end up. Even if you left next year, even if you decided not to be here anymore, while you still have your life. You’ll never get into Heaven. You only have three minutes to make a decision that’ll decide the rest of your life.”

“I think I’ve already made it.” Something eerily similar to hope flickering between your eyes, and you only gave him a sweet grin, before his face was cracking open in a wide beam, and he was lunging at you again. “What did Heaven ever do for me anyway? I think I’d much rather stay and be a sinner here with you.”

He bumped the tip of his nose against yours, before moving down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, pausing for long enough to speak; “Maybe, but you’ll always be my angel.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/reader smut #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes sebastian stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader smut #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan/reader smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x you smut #bucky barnes/you #sebastian stan bucky barnes

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there?

/Part 5/

Please, if you could. leave your opinions of this series in the comments :)

l yawned as I sat with Eugene Roe and Ralph Spina at the train wagon. My head was aching and my throat was sore. It was really getting tough to stay awake. I wasn’t going to ask for sick leave, but I felt like there was a spiky hairball stuck to my throat. So much for enjoying the train ride. No, Sonja, you are finally able to relax a little. I shouldn’t be ungrateful and take these moments for granted. 

I slowly take my cross pendant and give it a little kiss of thanks for the little moment of peace. Ralph raises his brows from across me. “You praying?”, he asks kindly. 

I shake my head: “I’m thanking God for being able to rest.” He nods and looks at me with a soft look. Eugene also smiles, they truly are a pair of truly empathetic men. “So you’re religious?”,Eugene asks. 

“Evangelical Lutheran”, I answer. “My whole dads side of the family is, with you know them being Finnish. I was actually confirmed there”, I explain. Religion was something I valued. It did not rule my life, but belief was something that gave me a feeling of contentment. I want to live a pure life, and as long as I keep my intentions pure, I want to belief that something out there is looking out for me. 

“Do you actually speak Finnish?”, the Cajun gentleman asks. I chuckle “Yhtä hyvin, kuin sinä puhut Ranskaa”, I answer and they look at me both very confused. I giggle at their expressions. “I just said that: As well as you speak French”

With Richard and Lewis

Richard Winters was calmly writing into his notebook as he heard a very familiar voice behind him: “Going my way?”

The red head stopped writing for a moment. “Where the train takes me”, he answered. Being the calm and collected man he was, he didn’t feel the need to pester his friend for information. Even if he seemed to be very adamant for him to take interest. 

“Where do you suppose that might be?”

“Haven’t got a clue”

“Yeah, come on. Take a guess. Atlantic, Pacific, Atlantic”, the button eyed officer hints. Richard continues writing to his notebook. He couldn’t deny being a little curious, but he could live without knowing. Lewis on the other hand couldn’t live without sharing. “I’m not the intelligence officer”, Richard interrupts his friends guessing game. 

“As such, I know, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you”, Lewis quips as he leans closer to Dick. 

“So don’t tell me”, Dick answers just as cool and collected as before. It truly amazed Lewis, the amount of self restraint the lieutenant in front of him had. It was admirable, but amusing as well. If your humor is sick enough of course. 

Lewis makes his way and sits in front of his friend. “New York City. Troop ship.England. We’re invading Europe, my friend”, he says seriously and pulls a flask from his back pocket. 

“Fortress Europa”, he salutes and pushes the flask towards his friend. Dick still looks as cool as before. “Since when do I drink”, he inquires dryly. The dry expression and amusement leave his face quickly after Lewis ends up admitting to hiding a case of his favorite whiskey: VAT 69, into his pristine friends footlocker. Dick was not sure which worried him more, the fact that his friend had just sneaked it in or the fact that his friend was so actively drinking. God knows he didn’t want to see Lew hurt. 

Dick looks very displeased as Lewis offers the flask to Harry, before a thoughtful expression takes over as he looks at the flask, making Lewis raise his brow. Was he really considering taking it?

“Sonja’s throat was sore. Might be wisest to get her here and offer some without the men seeing”, Richard says after a while. Lewis shakes his head: “She is a nurse! I’m not wasting my VAT on that” he chuckles. 

Richard raises his brow, looking very displeased again. “And since when was her health a waste”, he whispers looking very serious. Harry next to him laughs. “God Nix, go find her or he’ll be pissy all day”

Nix nods and stands up with a smirk attached to his face. Dick shakes his head, and people dared to say that traveling with friends was pleasant. 

Sonja

My brows furrow as I see Lewis Nixon make a very determined path towards me. And no there was no chance he was coming to see someone else. He locked his eyes with mine and you could see the mischief dancing in his brown orbs. 

He smirks as he stands next to me quickly nodding to Spina and Roe, before leaning closer and whispering into my ear: “Josef calls Mary, I repeat Josef calls Mary”

I pull a face and look at him like he had just gone crazy. He seems to be happy with that, and takes my arm helping me up, before taking a hold of my shoulders and literally pushing me where he wants. 

“Lewis, could you kindly explain, why you decided to kidnap me?”, I ask with mock kindness. “As I said, Josef needs Mary”. I roll my eyes at his joke. 

“You really aren’t as funny as you think you are”, I point out, before I let out a small cough. “Shut up, holy Mary, I’m absolutely hilarious. Though you sound a little rough”, he says and I do hear the actual care in his voice. 

I look at him tilting my chin up and smile gently. “Just a little sore throat. I’m a nurse I know how to work it out”, I soothe. He just shakes his head and says under his breath: “Don’t I know it”

When we make it to their seat Harry jumps up from next to Dick and he and Lewis maneuver me over to his old place. 

“Okay, Maiden fair rescued from the wolves, and Knight Lewis Nixon just got off the hook, thank you” 

So much for being subtle boys. I look around and see no alarming faces. With that I slouch a little and lean against my husbands shoulder. Richard seems to do the same check and brushes my thick brunette locks back before planting a kiss on my forehead. Harry is looking at us with a soft grin, he really was such a romantic. As was I, him talking about Kitty made me feel all kinds of joy for them.

Then he does the most surprising thing, he holds his hand out for Lewis’s flask. I open my mouth to ask why was he offering his teetotaler wife a drink, but I don’t get the chance. “Drink, it’ll ease your pain”, Richard whispers and holds the flask near my mouth. 

My mouth comes to the most loving smile as I look into his eyes. This caring angel of a man. “You noticed, huh?”I whisper tenderly.

 I raise my other hand to tip the flask with his and take a small ladylike sip. The taste is..not my favorite and I pull a face. It felt like those shivers you get when you drink cold tea from the bottom of the mug. 

“Thank you”, I whisper and we pass the flask back to Lewis. Who looks positively horrified. “I just gave you five star liquor and you pulled a damn face. No woman, you don’t say thank you. You apologize”, he scolds. I can’t even tell if he is serious or not. 

“oh forgive me oh lord of sin”, I say tiredly and lean against Dick even more heavily. “that’s more like it”, I hear the pleased answer. Richard takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. I sigh and sleep better than I have slept since I left Lancaster. 

Huge thank you to @iilovemusic12us​, our chats really mean the world to me! :)

#richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #band of brothers oc #Band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #harry welsh #eugene roe #ralph spina

[fluffysvt]

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 ✞ 𝟎𝟐

✘ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : joshua hong x reader

✘ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : bad boy au, corruption, religious themes

✘ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst, light smut?, graphic depictions of abuse (i’m sorry in advance this chapter is a bit dark)

✘ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.2k

the kiss lingers in your mind long after you’ve returned home. laying under pink sheets, you helplessly replay it over and over again, blushing in the dark. he took his time with you, leading with care, a tang of vanilla cream left on his tongue.

the truth is, you find joshua intriguing. you want to dive deep into every nook and cranny of him, to hear his thoughts, fears, desires. he’s like eating dessert before dinner -- delectable and sweet, yet against the rules.

but you want it anyway.

this is crazy, though, and you would be ridiculous to idealize him so quickly. for all you know, this could be some huge joke to him. why would someone like him want to date someone like me? you wonder, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. you two are extremes of one another: your whole life has always revolved around religion, whereas joshua denounces it almost entirely. so why, then?

maybe he just wants sex. after all he did mention sexual freedom, and you can only assume that means sex before marriage. your skin prickles at the thought of it, shame overcoming you.

your mind helplessly wanders back to the night you slept over at neji’s, when she confessed to giving her boyfriend her virginity. it struck you that she didn’t even sound sorry while soliciting every tiny, unwanted detail. neji has always been bold, yes, but it’s been hard trying to register this information. she said she really, truly loves him. that it felt... right.

it’s always been easy for you to maintain abstinence, considering you’ve never dated anyone seriously, but can one person honestly change that? and could it be someone like joshua?

it feels as though the fluffy, cotton candy cloud 9 you fell asleep on last night is a distant memory when you wake with a start. it’s still dark outside and your arms are quickly collecting goosebumps, bedsheets crumpled up in a heap on the floor.

“get up,” your mother demands through gritted teeth. it’s then that you notice her silhouette standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and eyes ablaze with a fury you’ve only seen a handful of times. you can feel your body tense.

“what?”

“on your knees. now.” a rosary is tightly knotted around her hand, bible clutched tightly to her chest as she makes her way to your side of the bed. hurriedly, you scramble onto the floor, palms pressed together as you resist eye contact.

she stops when she’s directly behind you. “you know how the people talk in this town.” the clicking of her belt buckle rings through the room as she loosens it. “did you think you could sneak around with that... that boy, without me knowing?”

your entire chest seizes in fear; how could she know, and so quickly?

as soon as you question it, the answer seems so obvious you could strangle yourself with it. mr. walker, the ice cream shop owner - he’s known your mother for years. stupid, stupid girl. 

“i-i’m sorry-”

your head snaps back as she tugs you by a fistful of hair. “you evil, ungodly child. boys like him are wicked. immoral. he wants to taint your purity.” her grip tightens and you scream, reaching backwards to grab onto her hands.

“no, mama,” you’re sobbing now. “h-he isn’t like that-”

“how dare you disrespect the lord this way!” she shouts, “now pray.”

your lips tremble; you know you have crossed the line, that the belt is coming. so softly, almost under your breath, you begin.

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned.”

crack.

“i-if we confess our sins,” your voice shakes, tears dripping from your cheeks. “he is faithful, and j-just, and will forgive us our sins, a-and-”

crack.

your eyes fall closed. “and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

days turn into weeks that turn into months, and all your time spent with joshua quickly blurs together. your mother’s threats haven’t stopped you from seeing him; they simply taught you to lie. sneaking out to see him at night gives you a rush you've never experienced before, and you're addicted. thoughts of him undeniably dominate your mind throughout the day, though you hate to admit it. surely it's sinful to think of him as much as you do, the way that you do.

but how can you not when he squeezes into the diner booth beside you at 1am, an arm slung around your shoulders and a hand resting on your thigh? in the afternoon when he meets you in the empty church, legs straddling his waist as he kisses you breathless between the pews? the thought of him is simply maddening, and despite your brain telling you no, you want him. constantly.

with summer over, neji had to go back to living with her mother a few states over. not that it matters much - you’re always calling to update her on joshua anyway (as well as to conjure up new, creative ways of sneaking out of the house). “you do realize you’re basically living that avril lavigne song, right? like, ‘he was a punk, she did ballet’ or whatever,” she points out one night.

“okay, but... i don’t do ballet.”

“oh please, you know what i mean.” her eye roll is almost palpable, even from miles away. you smile to yourself regardless, absently fiddling with the new necklace around your neck. it was a gift from joshua - a delicate gold chain with a small J in the center. “do you think your mom suspects anything still?”

you hum for a moment before responding, “no, i don’t think so. i told her i started seeing this new boy at church. adam.”

neji laughs loudly over the line. “wow, she must be happy about that one.”

“oh, she’s overjoyed. trust me.”

later that night, you pass your mother on the stairs going up to bed. she lulls, peering at the new choker around your neck. “what does the J stand for, sweetie?”

you smile.

“jesus.”

“so,” joshua picks up your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “are you saving yourself for marriage and all that bullshit?”

no matter how well you’ve come to know joshua over the past few months, his bluntness is a trait that is continually difficult for you to summit. you’re laying in the backseat of his car with your head in his lap, innocent eyes twinkling up at him in the peachy glow of the sunset. you can’t help thinking he’s absolutely divine with what looks like a wispy orange halo around his head.

“you mean... sex?” your cheeks immediately flush against your will. it’s alright, though, joshua has become familiar with this phenomenon. and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t go out of his way to make you flustered at times...

the fingers on his tattooed hand play with the hair around your face, occasionally brushing over your cheekbones and lips. “i mean whatever you want it to mean.”

you hesitate, unsure if you should confide this information in joshua. does he genuinely care to know, or is he just asking for... unholy reasons?

clearing your throat, you decide you may as well be transparent with him. “when i was eleven, my mother made me vow that i would abstain. but, to be honest, i didn’t even know what that meant. i hadn’t even gotten my period yet, let alone thought of boys... sinfully.” his full attention is on you, lapping up every single word with dark, unreadable eyes. you blush and turn your head away, only for him to cup your cheek and bring your gaze back to him.

your heart just about stops dead in your ribcage when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice unusually low. “and what, exactly, are you abstaining from?”

“i don’t even know,” you whisper. if he wasn’t enticing before, he’s certainly beginning to crawl right underneath your skin now. “i don’t know what’s allowed, and what’s not.”

“it’s your body, angel. you get to decide what’s allowed,” he bites down on his lip. “and what’s not.”

his thumb pauses over your mouth and you kiss it without thinking, wrapping your plump lips around it.

“do you want to have sex with me, joshua?”

you thought the question was innocent enough, but joshua visibly stiffens at your behavior; maybe he hadn’t anticipated his little angel to be capable of misbehaving like this.

he says your name as a warning. "this isn't about me."

you feel yourself frown; so he doesn't want sex? confusion overwhelms you and suddenly you feel silly, eyes welling in embarrassment as you sit up. “i-i’m sorry, that was too forward and clearly you don’t want me like that.”

now it’s his turn to frown, eyebrows drawing together as he grabs your wrist and gingerly pulls you to sit on his lap. “no, baby, it’s not that. i just- fuck. i don’t know how to say this.” you wince a little at his language, though you keep your head bowed in shame.

with two fingers he lifts your chin, his intense stare meeting your own. “i don’t care that we believe in drastically different things. i will respect any and every promise you’ve made to yourself. yourself - not your mother, or some religious construct you’ve been manipulated into thinking is right.”

all you can do is blink, and it feels like an eternity passes before you can gather your thoughts. “joshua,” you start, and you instantly hate how frightened you sound. “please. tell me what’s right.”

“this is the problem,” his voice raises ever so slightly in volume, exasperated. although when a tear escapes your eyelids he’s quick to wipe it away, calming himself down. “you’ve only ever had people telling you what’s right and wrong. you need to think for yourself, angel. really, what do you think is right?”

“i-i think,” you pause to readjust, settling a knee on either side of his lap. at this rate you might pass out from how fast your mind is spinning. “if something feels good... it must be right.” you swear there’s the tiniest of glints in his eyes, appearing for a mere second before it’s gone.

“do you know what good feels like, angel?” you suck in a breath, placing your shaking hands on his shoulders for some semblance of stability. his fingers brush some of your hair off your collarbone, revealing your neck to him.

it’s as if you’ve suddenly left your own body when you reach for his hands, bringing them to rest on your exposed thighs. a silent dare screaming touch me; for the first time, joshua is the one with a blush on his cheeks.

“i want you to show me.”

all the air disappears from your lungs when he kisses you, the action jarring and unlike any kiss you’ve shared before. his hands tightly grab the backs of your thighs, jerking you forward so your crotch grinds down directly onto his. an unfamiliar, white-hot fire explodes inside you at the contact, its flames impatiently lapping at your insides.

whining, you pull back for air and he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your throat. “josh,” you grip his hair, pulling a groan from his chest. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are as good as black.

“none of those church boys get to touch you like this, do they?” he murmurs breathlessly, lifting you at the waist with ease before laying you flat on your back, splayed out against his black leather seats. “is this all for me?” he hikes your dress up around your hips.

“yes,” you whimper, lost in the way he can handle you so delicately and dominantly at the same time.

his tattooed arm snakes underneath you, bringing your chest flush to his as he kisses you messily again. “i need to hear you say it, angel. tell me you want it,” he rasps, ducking down to kiss the necklace resting at the base of your throat. “tell me you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

never in a million years would you have expected to be here - warm and needy beneath a satanist, complete with an upside-down cross tattooed on his chest. all the times you imagined this scenario in your head, you expected to feel shy and embarrassed in front of joshua’s hungry eyes. yet, strangely enough, you feel... invigorated. empowered. free.

“i am yours,” you look joshua dead in the eyes, leading his hand to the waistband of your panties, “and you are mine.”

forgive me, father, for i am sinning.

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #svt joshua #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop seventeen #bad boy au #joshua imagines #joshua fic #joshua smut #joshua hong scenarios #svt #seventeen drabbles #kpop scenarios

[askmalal]

10,000 years before the Emperor revealed himself to mankind, a humanoid Xenos species dominated an expanse of worlds just beyond the periphery of the Ghoul Stars. 

Their names are unimportant. Forgotten by history, wiped clean by the hand of a an angry god.

They made great strives in the arts, technology, social reform. Their towers, made of scintillating glass, stretched heavenward. Their great bronze cities covered whole continents, surrounded by the vast expanses of green arcologies.

Their technologies are forgotten. Their arts have been destroyed. Their towers have been thrown down, never to touch the heavens again. Their great bronze cities atomized, their arcologies burned, by their own hands.

Then came a time of great conflict. When the last cornerstone had been laid, when the last hold out had been conquered. When the greatest revelations in technology seemed but a generation away, they fell to fighting. 

There were those who believed that “faith” was a weakness. That belief in anything that could not be proven with empirical evidence or seen with the naked eye was inherently false. Science was their deity, the laboratory their altar. Morals were merely convenient evolutionary tools, they said. 

And then there were others. They came to reject all learning as inherently flawed, for it came from mortal minds. They rejected science, for it seemed to them a blasphemy. When the great thinkers proved one theory or published another, they turned their backs. Such was falsehood, they claimed, planted by those who wished to steal away their faith. At best, such discoveries were red herrings, false relics and data left behind by the gods as a means of testing their faith.

And the great civilization that dwelt there, amongst the ghoul stars, began to tear itself apart.

Then came a prophet. Her deeds are legendary, though her name is forgotten. She brought them the Truth. She brought them Malal. The “great thinkers” were chastened for their intolerance. The “fanatic believers” were chastened for their ignorance. And for a time, harmony was achieved.

When the prophet passed into the world beyond life, the society she had worked so hard to reform began to crumble. False prophets led them astray. Well meaning zealots tried to educate the masses, but their words were misinterpreted. Those who remained among His most faithful said to themselves, “The time is coming for the Great Rebirth. His Will must be done. These are the signs. This is the place. The end time is nigh.”

And others among the faithful said, “No, no! It is not within our ken to know the time or the hour! The time will come when it comes! You cannot manipulate the gods!”

But those who believed most fiercely in their broken ideas, led by the self-aggrandizing prophets, saw to it that the end times came. One by one the cities blinked out. The cities burned. The wine dark seas boiled away. And silence crept over the words of these once noble people.

And those who remained said to themselves,  “See His Theophany, burning brightly in the heavens! We will be rewarded. He will be pleased!”

But Malal was not.

It is not given unto mortal men and women to decide when the time comes. 

But Malal was not.

The needless sacrifice of His children is anathaema.

But Malal was not.

For many innocents, those who opposed this course of action, died alongside the faithful in those flames of arrogance.

And Wolf-Headed God, the Faceless Sphinx, the Dragon in Ebony, roared his anger so loudly that they say his thunders still skirt the Ghoul Stars, things of absolute hate that spread like tendrils of entropy across those much blighted worlds.

Now, the souls of those nameless people, He divided in twain. Those who had been innocent, those who had no hand in what came to pass, were given their reward. 

But for those who had taken part, those who had thought to enact His will without His writ, he cursed. “I have cast you into the heavens, upon the tides of the warp. And there you will serve me, in the great bronze catacomb ships of your own making. Until each has paid her debt.”

And they still travel those tides today. Every so often, one of their number is slain and does not return: his cosmic debt repaid, His forgiveness earned. But they are billions, and His wrath is not easily lessened. Many will dwell there, upon ceaseless tides, until the end times have come. And when they have come to pass, and the Rebirth is brought about, there too they will continue to dwell. Until all debts are paid. Until all sins are forgiven.

Until that time, they are His. They are His alone. The eldritch things that once were men and women inhabiting the very artifice that once made them mighty. In ships of patinaed bronze. In suits of patinaed bronze. In silent service. In constant terror. In a state of perpetual living death.

His Will Be Done.

Should His Void Mariners come to collect you, pray to your gods. For you shall receive no respite from mine.

- Words of the “Mad” Magos of Gehenna, M32

#ask malal #askmalal #malal #malice #horus heresy #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #chaos gods #thewarp #chaosphilosophy #daemons of the ruinstorm

[jimmyflemion]

Hi everyone. The Spiritual album is here. Damaged Goods  / Sinned in Reverse. Out now! Finally. Our album that has been talked about in interviews & the works for the last 30 years. Today digitally available everywhere. Always had it in mind for this to come out as an album in album form (who knows, maybe someday?) but now that it has been finished this seemed the perfect time for its release. Over the last 9 years all the song versions were listened to meticulously, chosen, vocals & instruments added & recorded, the theme of the story & running order placed in a schematic theme, mixed, mastered & the artwork went through several renovations until today as it stands in its completed form. Whenever it seemed like it was finished & patience had given out, there was that voice saying that when the time was right it would be ready. Why are any of us here? Our spirits, our souls, the learning, the forgetting, the remembering. What is my purpose? Is it something other than what I think it is? Am I supposed to be helping in some other way? I often ask myself these questions. Music always has given me hope to figure out these things & be good with myself & my choices, helping me to make sense. I often think of my sins & sins of omission words I feel I should have said or shouldn’t have said. The life I’ve led, previous lives. Being honest with myself & others & communicating my feelings freely & openly. Reflecting how my life would have changed dramatically. Often pointing the finger & not owning up to my own part in things. We all play a part in the communion. I’ve judged so much in my life. Through my own faults perceived through my own judgement, I become more & more conscientious & conscious & not so much on autopilot. For those I’ve hurt through my own neglect, I offer my sincere apologies. To be good with yourself & your pure refection brings peace. Myself & my brother were The Frogs. We grew up together, played & wrote songs entwining a world revered & a world despised & quickly scribed them with quill, in the end giving you the listeners your own choice in choosing where your heart aligns. From seeing both sides of characters as well as taking an honest look at ourselves, there began an introspection as to who we are as humans & it made its’ way into the work. We uncovered a society of depravity we had no intention of joining. Although given somewhat of a view of the music biz here & there from a ringside seat, in fact we were never invited to the party for we posed a threat in seeing through your false idol’s bullshit. We were different, we didn’t fit in & in retrospect a very good thing to be, working in our favor. But alas however cool or punk or whatever someone might think that might feel it took on an aura of loneliness. We were outsiders, who still in a way wanted for our ego’s sake (remember this is show biz, it takes some sort of ego to continue on, year after year) to be appreciated or make some sort of a living at this game. However, looking at things now, there really was never anything we missed out on, knowing how proud he was of me & I of him & what we set out to do through our creativity. I am reminded by a beautiful princess who once upon a time told me, we are all frogs. We are God’s children that keep getting turned into frogs & under the spell of the witches. The Frogs, the band represents all the frogs of the world. The Frogs, the band are the narrator, the storyteller as in the fairytale. The Frogs have their sweet revenge by flipping, showing the people thru song their own judgements of what beauty, evil, cruelty & perception of what is truth or not. You are the judge. It’s always been up to the listener of the message what they were to receive from it to learn or unlearn. Like a lot of music itself, it’s multilayered, multidimensional, the listener gets to decide what it means. We are all frogs, right & wrong, good & bad, ugly & beautiful, loving & hateful, mean & kind. We have a choice. Thru our own experience, we can heal & help to shine our light or to stay in the darkness & continue to judge all of it or accept & return to all that is within us which is love. & somewhere within all that we must not forget what they do to frogs in school’s biology class, cutting them open, dissecting removing parts showing children that it is ok in the name of science & men who eat & destroy the lives of children. Becoming comfortable with these ideas as if it’s cool or gross, not really understanding what they are doing. That which was once life, God’s creation lie there on the table, it represents us thru the fairytales. Being manipulated, being blinded from the day of our birth that we should be okay with all this and yet that is the great big lie too. The world you, we know/knew & the people of it that revel & cling to darkness remain at that vibration until they subscribe to the light. The light is for all yet some have an allergic reaction to it due to their disposition & judgement of the collective creation. The Frogs, myself and my brother spoke the truth about everything the 3rd dimensional world holds & ascending dimensions above. Together we were not puppets, poseurs, plagiarists or frauds, follow the long lost line of money, our trail is short. Those who hijack the heart will find & attract those of like. There remains nothing to be taught or learned for the kingdom of heaven is within, pretty simple. It’s easy to innerstand, if one makes a concerted conscious effort to spread love as opposed to their fascination with fear & pornographic obsession with death, which spoiler alert walks hand in hand with life. The music we created has nothing to do with “satire”, in fact at times there is no rhyme & reason & in times needed there is rhyme & reason. A fool auditions for a song, a wise man dresses up in costume, the world’s zoo comes to life & appears & disappears in illusion or what some call magic or a critic appears on notice to define art. There is a floodgate of material & songs to peruse & at times it makes the most sense to corral them conceptually. I used to be so concerned on being comprehended correctly to my liking but matters not. If I must spell it out, see how the Phoenicians, use their created language & words in plain sight, with the word spell to cast spells. In conclusion, the words with respect to the music are laced with wisdom. There is no other way. The goal, the direction, the soul purpose being co-creating beautiful sounds, energy & vibrations with the maker. In appreciation of creation. The heart beats, the world turns, the divine nature of the soul is changeless, without wavering, it answers the call of protecting & nurturing the mutual life force. Love avoids competition as it stands in its own sovereignty. ‘Tis the very common ground we all share & vibrate to. No one else can control our destiny, that which we were put on this plane, planet earth to fulfill. There was a shared mission only Dennis & I shared. The understanding & meaning that music in the right hands transforms the soul. Caging people, labeling, putting them in boxes, thinking these monsters own you is the absolute antithesis of love. The angels provide the roadmap, speak to them, I’ve spoken in song about freedom, having loved the show “Born Free” growing up under the Leo sign. I pray someday people that are real will find like minded humans & the fake actors satisfied with their empty empathy will have a true awakening. Judge much, yes but ‘tis a lonely world full of ghosts. So on a lighter note, as we float higher, what have I learned in all these years later 9 since Dennis has passed. What I’ve always known that I am so beyond blessed & grateful to have had him as my brother, how much love, care & detail he put into every moment of his life, how much he gave & how everything was a gift, how much he cherished life & being in everyone’s presence. His heart was always in the right place. An angel. Finally this album is the final Frogs album (the spiritual album that has been promised for years) 32 tracks, (number 5) Dennis & I were both number 5’s in our life paths. “damaged GOoDS / sinneD in Reverse” Damaged Goods / Dennis in Reverse In reality this album could not have been completed without the help of our dear friend Bjorn Thorsrud (additional production, mastering & editing) Dennis always wanted to have Bjorn work on this album & when he offered to help it was a GODsend. I devoted my heart & soul into this record & when I finally completed it on the final playback, I broke into tears, my only wish was for Dennis to be proud & happy with this record as a testament to The Frogs legacy. This album is in 432 hertz, the highest energy that governs the universe, vibrates with the earth’s heartbeat, the golden ratio, divine proportion. We made music because it brought us joy & made life such a wonderful experience. The telepathic musical communication Dennis & I shared is innerstood, felt inside. With regards to words they would have you say understood, but none of us is beneath or under where any other human soul stands, we are all equal & equally divine. I love Dennis with all my heart, always have & always will. I am so happy & thank creation so much that I was able to be here on this day to fulfill Dennis & my dream for you to hear this our final Frogs album. This album is for you all the fans who drove all over the country to come to our shows, stood in line, supported us at our merch booths. We started out having fun playing music together in the garage, writing songs in our bedrooms, had absolutely no idea any & all of this would have happened, well it couldn’t have happened without you our fans, we love each & every one of you for showering us with your love all of these years. This album is dedicated to the fans. Love,         Jimmy

[the-drunken-fist]

October 19th.

Yeah, it’s here.

I was thinking a lot what I could do for my lovely boy’s bday (and I am not talking about Jon Favreau, u sinners) bc actually I can’t do anything but silly notes about manga. However, one night a great idea came to my mind and said:

“What about Shisui’s appearance?”

“Appearance?”

“Appearance.”

“Shisui’s appearance?”

“Yes, Shisui’s appearance. You know, curly hair, body flicker, non-stop sharingan using, mad oldsters, coups, Uchiha fucking guys… Shisui!”

“Has it been a parody to Snatch?”

And so, I thought it would be pretty… interesting (?) try to realize some Modern AU headcanons about Shisui and his appearance. Let’s do it:

Shisui had some problems with his appearance in the childhood. When he went to the 1 grade, children immediately gave him a name “Potato-Shisui”. And do u know why??? Because of his nose. Shisui had never paid attention to such a feature of him and didn’t even think that his classmates’ name-calling was bad. But soon our boy understood that children went far and everything was changing into bullying. Shisui decided to turn the situation the other way. He was the highest child in the group, so during one of those unpleasent moments it was enough for him just to stand up silently, showing who was the boss in the area.

Yes, Shisui was tall. And slender. Very slender. He was a small copy of Thomas Sangster. But! This body that seemed extremely weak for… life… was actually strong and full of energy. Uchiha had always been the winner in all sport competitions at school. Especially in running ones. And it wasn’t just one-minute activity. It was his life. He run every day, in different weather because it gave him the feeling of freedom, fly, wind. It gave feelings. Great, but Shisui got another name-calling… “Russian wolfhound”.

Hair. Lovely curls that would make girls moan in the attack of cuteness in the future. But at that time he couldn’t find any advantages in them. Only big problems in hair care. Once a boy from his group even asked him if he was a Jewish. Shisui was surprised and seriously started to think about it. He knew much about his ancestors but that idea had never been in any of his family’s books and documents. But for him it sounded cool. And interesting.

Shisui didn’t consider himself handsome at all. And, yeah, such questions were opened when the period of his adolescence became. It wasn’t an idea-fix, u know, it was automatically because there were a lot of talks about it, hormones and all such unexpected things. But our 13-year-old baby didn’t even realize that he expressed such charismatic, self-confident, strong aura that made him much more incredible than even the prettiest face could make.

With time the body of our Shisui started to fill itself with visible physical strength. The shoulders became wider and more massive, the muscles like layers were growing on arms, legs, torso aki on titan in Shingeki. After the vacation like a new person came back to the classes. He looked much older than all his coevals. And his voice… when a teacher first time called him to answer the homework after such metamorphosis and the boy opened his mouth, all pupils in the classroom twitched. Gentle, light voice had changed into deep, strong, with features of whiskey and honey.

Continue the previous paragraph. It’s extremely necessary to mention the type of his speech. Oh, boys and girls… he was a talented orator. Shisui spoke absolutely clearly, accurately, confidently. But this talent became the reason why teachers always asked the boy to participate in something like “Competition of readers”. Shisui was a polite boy, so his answer was always “Ok, with pleasure”. Despite the fact of his incredible skills in a such activity Uchiha didn’t pretty like it. To stand in the center of people’s attention was a nightmare.  

Later the traits of his beauty transformed into more masculine. All the parts of his face, that had always seemed too big for it, started to add very strong and self-willed features to boy’s appearance. He wasn’t a kind of guys with “traditional beauty” like Sasuke. He had something strange in his look (in a good way), contradictory. Big soft eyes with long eyelashes went with a strong jaw and high cheekbones in an extremely fantastic manner.

Clothes style. I say only two words – dark/casual. Boy, I can understand u absolutely. And Itachi inherited this style from his friend. Sometimes, when people see Itachi and Shisui together, they think that the boys wear the same clothes. Honestly, it has sense bc Itachi got some Shisui’s hand-me-downs. And the reason isn’t in difficult financial situation. Itachi doesn’t follow fashion but near there is always Shisui who can say “U have always liked this hoodie. Take it, i’ve become too big for it”. Would you refuse?

At 17 Shisui understood that it was time to stop pretending. He had terribly bad eyesight and it was becoming worse and worse. The problems continued from the time when he was 7, but our boy tried not to pay attention to it (oh, yes, lovely, I know…). He spent 2 hours in the optical store surrounded by long shelves with enormous amount of glasses of different styles, forms, colors. He was confused. Highly confused. Thanks to a nice woman there who helped him recommending many pairs which should suit him.

 Accessories. Shisui has always been a big fun of little details in the look (and he wasn't even supposed). Bandanas, caps, wrist braces, belts – are his favourities. He even presented а nice necklace to Itachi for his birthday. And after “the-optical-store-incident” he found out that glasses would become honorary members of his small collection.

 Bonus! Some songs from Shisui’s playlist. Naruto calls it “Grandfather’s album”:

Gone With The Sin – HIM (!!!!!!!!!! – forever love 1);

July - Noah Cyrus;

Thoughts & prayers – Grandson;

Six Billion - Nothing But Thieves;

Lonely - Palaye Royale;

O'clock - Emilie Zoé;

We Are Young feat. Janelle Monae - Fun. feat. Janelle Monáe;

About Her - Malcolm McLaren;

How We Roll - Hollywood Undead (at all HU was Shisui’s adolescent love);

Enough's Enough - Paris Shadows (Sasuke’s recommendation);

Where Did You Sleep Last Night – Nirvana;

Let It Go - Def Leppard;

When the Smoke Is Going Down – Scorpions (!!!!!!! – forever love 2);

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? - Arctic Monkeys;

Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon - Urge Overkill;

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood - Soundtrack Wonder Band (Itachi always prays to all possible Gods to stop Shisui rampaging (dancing) during this song);

Otherside - Red Hot Chili Peppers;

Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones (rampaging song №2);

Chinese Democracy - Guns N' Roses (“No, Shisui,” Itachi said wearily. “Yes, Shisui. My car, my rules.”);

HUMBLE - Kendrick Lamar (unexpected but Naruto insisted. His “cool track” should “colorize” grandad’s list);

Lounge Act – Nirvana;

That's all for today. Thank u for your attention. And now go drink to the health of such a perfect man 🎁🎈🎂🌸💫

#uchiha shisui #shisui #shisuiweek2020 #free day #shisui's bday #naruto #naruto shippuden

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: 5 PILLARS OF ISLAM: ALMS AND CHARITY: FIQH OF ZAKAT IN DETAIL:

HOW IS ZAKAT PAID? (Part2)

IS IT BETTER TO GIVE ZAKAT SECRETLY OR OPENLY?

The comparative virtue of secretly and openly giving zakat or sadaqa differs according to place and time. Although it may be better, on occasions, to give openly, at other times, opting to pay secretly may provide a wiser option. Verses and hadiths elaborating on both these circumstances afford us different clues in relation to this point. For example, “To give alms in public is good, but to give charity to the poor secretly is better for you and will atone for some of your sins,” (Baqara 2:271) “Those who spend their wealth by night and day, in private and public, shall be rewarded by their Lord”(Baqara 2:274). Based on these Qur’anic statements, we ascertain the diverse benefits of secret and open charities depending on time and place. Yet, Muslim scholars have preponderantly advised an open payment of zakat while recommending the secret offering of other charities.

Though an open payment may act as an encouragement to others, a secret payment forestalls the emergence of vices, like pride, arrogance about one’s means, and showing off. A person may be able to steer clear of these vices while performing zakat, which is, after all, an imperative obligation which is supposed to be performed with the intention of purifying the wealth; however, as for sadaqa, a voluntary activity, falling prey to these vices may come more easily. It is for this reason while enumerating the seven groups of people to be shaded under the shade of the Throne, on a horrendous Day where no other shade exists, the Messenger of God also includes, “those whose left sides are oblivious to what their right sides have given (as charity).”7

Therefore, it is essential to give voluntary sadaqa or charities secretly, and for this reason, it is said that a supererogatory sadaqa given in secret is 70 times more virtuous and valuable than that which is given openly. The Noble Messenger articulated the following: “Goodness never exhausts, sins are not forgotten, and God never dies; so do as you wish.”8 Indeed God is Alive and Eternal, a Watcher and Guard over all things perpetrated. As verified by this additional declaration: “We have shown him the right path, whether he be grateful or ungrateful” (Insan 76:3). In other words, human may either nurture a profound gratitude towards the Being Who has, through innumerable ways, made him aware of His transcendent existence, or ungratefully, throw into dissipation all his privileges, including himself, by shamefully choosing the path of disgraceful rebellion.

Note that giving explicitly may involve a degree of disdain on behalf of the benefactor as s/he acquires personal insight to the needs, condition, and circumstances of the beneficiary. In addition, a hadith such as, “The hand which gives is better than the hand which receives,” might spuriously justify disdain in souls lacking full insight into the Message. But clearly, disdaining and abasing a Muslim has indubitably been decreed forbidden.

A further difficulty arises if the recipient is not known to be poor by the public—someone who has kept his/her need quiet, so to speak—in which case giving the sadaqa overtly may incur the ill-thought from both the donor and others that the recipient is accepting the donation without a genuine need. Here, then, is another example of how each act of faith becomes both an opportunity and a trial—for it is not right to indulge in such thoughts about others, and we risk rapidly and completely annulling any potential benefits to ourselves if we fail to check our tendencies to judge or criticize in this way. Thus, in order to fend of Satan’s whispers and the personal embarrassment the poor may experience, the best method remains that of our predecessors—one in which we secretively place the sadaqa in a location which is easily accessible by those in need, and then swiftly leave.

Perhaps we could make an exception for those towering spiritual figures who, by virtue of having already conquered their own egos, are not easily affected by the side-effects which plague the majority, and by whose leadership in the field of charity, many more souls might be drawn into random giving. For these noble individuals, visibility in the act of sadaqa might be appropriate. But this would certainly be an atypical situation—not a recommended practice for the average person.

Putting the Qur’anic balance into the picture, it can be ascertained that, occasionally, it is preferable to opt for an open payment of zakat, however, as mentioned earlier: “To give alms in public is good, but to give charity to the poor secretly is better for you, and will atone for some of your sins. God has knowledge of all that you do” (Baqara 2: 272). There is a balance, in other words. In similar fashion to salat (prayer) and sawm (fasting), the performance of obligatory actions is an instrument of public encouragement, as well as clearing its performer from likely incriminations. The highly potent and symbolic words of the Prophet in reference to those deliberately falling back from congregational salats were as follows: “I have contemplated leaving a deputy to lead, then burst in on those who, without excuse, fall back from salats, and set their houses ablaze.” In addition, the outer manifestation of a life of faith, of an adherence to the practice of Islam, is not a trivial matter, as verified by another hadith “Whoever performs our salat, faces our qibla (the direction turned towards during salat, towards the Sacred Ka‘ba), and eats what we slaughter is a Muslim under the guarantee of God and His Messenger.”9 In effect, the belief of a Muslim is reflected and generally understood by others in terms of the publicly performed obligatory deeds; therefore, there is benefit in offering these openly, to dispel any possible suspicion and spare witnesses from the easy temptation of judging another believer; in addition, public contributions of zakat provide an inspiration to those outside of the faith who might feel invited to submit after witnessing the all- encompassing mercy espoused by the Qur’an.

The actions of Abu Bakr and Ali, may God be pleased with t hem, who had totally comprehended the balance displayed in the Qur’an, are exemplary. The former, having had

dirhams worth of wealth, donated a quarter of it at night, another quarter at day, another quarter in secret and the last quarter in public; thus he actualized all the facets emphasized in the Qur’an. The latter openly donating his 4 dirhams, and then remarked, “O God, let this be an encouragement”; while during a secret donation, he prayed “Only for your sake my Lord.” While giving at night, he prayed again: “May my night be alight;” and during the day, he uttered, “O God illuminate my day.”10 There it is: a display of the Companions’ astounding sensitivity and their profound vitality in bringing Islam to life.

CAN DEFECTIVE PROPERTY BE GIVEN AS ZAKAT ?

The awesome balance set by Islam in all fields is also visible in the fundamentals of offering and collecting zakat. While instructing the collectors to avoid collecting the “best possession,” the benefactors are themselves encouraged to choose to give their best as an invaluable means of reaching the spiritual summit, a fact attested to by the Qur’an: “You will not attain righteousness until you spend of what you love” (Al Imran 3:92). Anas ibn Malik narrates the following in relation: “Of the Ansar (Medinan Muslims),” Abu Talha was one of the richest, and Bayruha—a garden across the Masjid al-Nabawi (the grandmosque at Medina), was his most beloved possession. The Messenger of God, on occasions, used to enter it and drink from its clean water. When the verse, “You will not attain righteousness until you spend of what you love” (Baqara 3:92) was revealed, Abu Talha went to the Prophet and proclaimed the following: “If this is what the Almighty God has decreed in His Book, then from now on Bayruha, my most prized possession, is a charity for God. I anticipate its rewards and benefits from Him alone. O Messenger of God! Do with it as you wish.” The Prophet responded delightfully, “How beautiful! This will bring a multitude of rewards and a copious recompense in the afterlife. I have heard your words on this subject, but if you ask me, divide it between your relatives,” and upon this Abu Talha divided it between his relatives.”11 Indeed, it is evident that in order to become an ideal servant of God, one must donate, for His sake, one’s most cherished items. Those who aspire to Paradise undoubtedly will present, with paramount pleasure, their best crops and produce.

In a hadith conveyed by Abu Hurayra, the Messenger of God reveals, “Whoever donates an amount equivalent to a handful of dates out of his pure earnings—and certainly God accepts only that is pure—God will take it and, just how one of you rears his foal, he will raise it to the size of a mountain.”12

Through another hadith, again transmitted by Abu Hurayra, the Prophet earnestly announced, “O humankind! God is Pure and He only accepts what is pure. God has also commanded the believers what He has commanded the Prophets, namely “O Messengers! Eat of the pure things and act with righteousness” (Mu’minun 23:51); and for the believers, “O you who believe! Eat of the good and clean things which We have provided for you, and be grateful to God, if it is He whom you worship” (Baqara 2:172).

In tandem, a person must put himself in the shoes of the recipient, and thus avoid giving substandard or defective items. The Qur’an elaborates the following caution in relation to this very fact:“…and seek not the bad (with intent) to spend of it (in charity)” (Baqara 2:267). In other words, one must be absolutely alert in preventing any illicitness, such as this has been forbidden by God, from coalescing with one’s donations—either accidentally or by virtue of neglect on our part.

Consequently, all manner of “filth” must be kept well at bay from honest and pure earnings, and the charity should be presented from the purest portion—the portion which the benefactor himself would gladly accept in the reverse scenario, were he to find himself the recipient instead. In practical terms, this means ensuring that gains are not secured through means which are, themselves, illicit; and to make certain that the offering meets the highest trade standard, in terms of both the quality of the goods and their real value.

During the blissful era of the Prophet, people used to leave bunches of dates at the Masjid al-Nabawi for the poor to eat. One day, after having seen a few defective bunches, the Prophet (upon whom be peace) pointed with his stick and said, “If the owner of this charity wished, he would have donated a finer bunch. Its owner will, in turn, be reciprocated with a similarly defective return in the afterlife.”13

WHEN IS THE MOST VIRTUOUS TIME FOR OFFERING ZAKAT ?

After having reached its nisab, a property on which a year has elapsed becomes subject to zakat. Yet, the generally prevalent practice is to offer it during the month of Ramadan. Although this remains the overall accepted routine, there are others who maintain that zakat should best be given before its deadline or during the season of harvest. All these views, certainly, are predicated upon various proofs, which can be recapitulated as follows.

PAYMENT DURING RAMADAN

The practice of giving zakat in Ramadan is by and large based on two notions—namely to benefit from the special month’s blessings, and to put a smile on the faces of the poor in preparation for Eid. While it remains essential to perform deeds within their specific time frames and in line with their particular requirements, their performance at sacred times and places, it is hoped, brings even greater rewards. For instance, offering salat at theKa‘ba or Masjid al-Nabawi is considered more valuable in comparison to other places. This isactually implied by the words of the Noble Prophet, who declared that there are only three mosques in the world that, on their own, are worth traveling to—Ka‘ba in Mecca, Masjid al-Nabawi in Medina, and Masjid al-Aqsa in Jerusalem.14

As for timing, the blessings of Ramadan are evidently manifest; it is considered the “sultan” of the other eleven months, containing a night superior to a thousand months. Therefore, completing an obligation like zakat within the parameters of Ramadan is believed to be an opportunity to greater rewards, as well as serving its prime role of relieving its benefactor from a compulsory duty in a timely, scheduled manner. Narrated by Anas ibn Malik, the ensu ing hadith alludes to this. The Prophet was asked, “What is the most virtuous fast after the fast of Ramadan?” He responded, “The fast of (the months of) Shaban, in reverence to Ramadan.” He w a s t hen asked: “Which sadaqa is of greater virtue?” And he replied, “Sadaqa given in Ramadan.”15

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[hunterinabrowncoat]

Confession and Religious Trauma

I was reading a chapter in Nadia Bolz-Webber’s amazing book ‘Accidental Saints’ the other day, about sin and confession. The idea of Confession with a Capital ‘C’ is pretty foreign to me, having grown up in an Evangelical church. That kind of stuff was far too Catholic, and therefore suspect.

In my tradition, you just say sorry to God in your private prayer time, and it’s all forgiven already anyway because of the Doctrine of Grace means God looks at people who’ve Accepted Jesus As Personal Lord and Saviour and sees Jesus in all his perfection instead.

Pastor Bolz-Webber said some great stuff about sin. Like this:

“In the end, we aren’t punished for our sins so much as we are punished by our sins.

And sin is just the state of human brokenness in which what we say and do causes these sometimes tiny and sometimes monstrous fractures in our earth, in ourselves, in those we love, and sometimes even in our own bodies.”

I like the way she presented sin; not as some stain that dirties us and needs to be washed away, but the state of human brokenness we all inhabit. And in that light, confession stops being about making you feel guilty or reminding yourself how many bad things you’ve done, but rather is about giving you freedom from the guilt that already consumes you and the things that are eating at your conscience. It’s about coming to God, coming to community, and finding healing and restoration from that brokenness through God’s beautiful, raging mercy. It offers release and a chance to experience God’s grace through community and liturgy.

But like much of the Christian liturgy, I really struggle to engage with it. Partly because it’s so foreign to me and just feels a bit... weird. But partly because of religious trauma.

As I’ve spoken briefly about before, in deconstructing my faith and Evangelical upbringing, I’ve become disillusioned with and wanted to distance myself from many of the practices I grew up with. I feel uncomfortable in those spaces now. And in its absence, I desperately long for religious ritual and festivals; for meaningful practice that connects me to my ancestors and my community through collective tradition.

And yet, whenever I am in a Christian space that has liturgy, or that is more traditional, I am just left feeling distinctly uncomfortable, disconnected and out of place. It feels as though this is someone else’s tradition, something I have no connection to.

I haven’t found a solve for this yet, honestly. I just continue to go to church and feel out of place.

And maybe that’s part of why I struggle to engage with confession. But that’s not all it is, because it’s not just alien, it’s deeply uncomfortable and difficult.

I’m not going to pretend that all of my problems with saying sorry are about church and the way I was churched, because I also struggle to say sorry to other people. It’s a pride thing. Even when I feel bad, it’s like the word physically get stuck in my throat. I dislike being vulnerable with other people, and I find actually verbally talking to people about difficult or personal things, like, really hard.

But I also can’t deny the impact that my religious upbringing had on the way I view apologies, especially confession. When I engage with that part of the liturgy, or that practice, when it comes time to confess, I don’t experience absolution or God’s grace or any sense of release. Instead, I am overcome with feelings of toxic shame and guilt and self-hatred that my Evangelical upbringing instilled in me.

I grew up in a tradition that taught the concept of ‘Original Sin’. It told me I am inherently dirty and I was born unclean and I could never do enough to earn God’s favour because I will always fall short. Needless to say, it’s done a number on me.

The concept of Original Sin, as well as the emphasis Evangelicalism puts on sin, particularly things that in the grand scheme of things are often inconsequential like having sexual thoughts about somebody or swearing or feeling perfectly natural human emotions like anger, is incredibly damaging. It makes you feel guilty for enjoying anything. It makes you feel so much shame simply for being a perfectly ordinary human being with normal, human desires and needs and emotions.

People who are much more learned and articulate than me have written extensively about the subject. But needless to say, it caused me a lot of self-hatred, and a lot of guilt and shame that just festers as the sort of background noise to my life.

So much of my deconstruction journey has been letting go of that and learning to experience life without feeling guilty about everything. I’m allowed to enjoy things just because they’re enjoyable. Pleasure isn’t sinful. Who I am - my queerness, my sexuality, my gender - aren’t sinful. Indulgence isn’t sinful. Experiencing emotions aren’t sinful - they’re perfectly normal and healthy, and the important thing is not to deny them but allow myself to experience them, and make sure my actions and responses to them are measured and appropriate.

Then I come to confession, and I feel all of that guilt and shame and self-hatred creeping back in and undoing all of that work.

I was taught, growing up, that not only are we all born inherently sinful and stained, but also that we all sin every day. And when it came to prayer, and we were encouraged to say sorry to God for the bad things we’d done (you know the teaspoon [TSP] prayer - Thank you, Sorry, and Please). There will always be something to say sorry for, and to think otherwise means you’re proud or conceited, because we’re all imperfect and we all do things wrong.

And I don’t think that’s necessarily untrue. We are all imperfect. Even when we don’t fuck up in some big way that plays on our conscience for ages, we all say or do things that are less than kind. There are always situations where we could have shown a little more grace, or had a little more patience, or shown a little more love. None of us are perfect. We do all make mistakes.

But when it comes to confession, I often can’t think of anything to confess. I can’t think of something I’ve done recently that that I need for absolution over. Rarely do I do things and feel really torn up about it later. And if I do, it’s usually because of anxiety and not because I’ve committed some heinous grievance against my fellow humans.

When people tell me I’ve hurt them, I apologise and I try to do better. And... there is the resolution. When I feel I’ve wronged someone, I apologise and I try to do better. And there is the resolution.

To then bring it up again to God during confession feels like pointlessly drudging back up stuff that has already been sorted, for no reason other than to remind me of all the ways that I’m imperfect.

There’s also the issue of course, the eternal Exvangelical Sturggle, of “is the guilt I feel actually a reasonable amount of guilt to feel due to something I’ve genuinely done wrong, or do I just feel a deep sense of shame because it was effectively instilled in me that I am dirty and bad and I’ve learned to feel awful for many things that I don’t believe are wrong at all, like... experiencing human emotions, or seeking pleasure, or saying ‘no’?”

So in the absence of things I actually feel guilty over, I often confess rather vaguely... Sorry for all the times I wasn’t as patient or gracious as I could have been. Sorry for the times I could have got up and done something, but instead was lazy and just didn’t. Sorry for all the ways I’ve fallen short this week. Sorry for all the petitions I didn’t sign or GoFundMes I didn’t donate to that I could have if I didn’t buy that book or that t-shirt. Sorry for being selfish. Sorry for not getting all my work done this week. Sorry for every time I forgot to read my Bible. Sorry for every instance I could have prayed but didn’t.

And it just feels like it quickly becomes “sorry for not being good enough”. Which is a horrible way to think about yourself.

I’ve done so much work to get myself to see that I am enough. To be kind to myself. To forgive myself. To accept that I am not nor will I ever be perfect. That I cannot be everything and give everything and do everything. That I’m a limited human being, and that’s okay.

And confession just makes me feel like I’m undoing all of that work. And honestly? I just don’t know what to do with that.

I don’t know if this is a common experience for people deconstructing their faith and trying to reconstruct some kind of meaningful practice. I don’t know if I need to “fix” this and find a way to engage with confession. I’d like to think that God is big enough to find a way to reach us all, even with our messiness and complexities and all our baggage.

#christianity #confession #sin #absolution #nadia bolz-webber #accidental saints #religion #original sin #mine #faith tag #personal

[enchanted-prose]

#14 She Holds the Key in Her Hand

my beta loved this chapter :,)

Word count: 5,218

Characters: Tobias, Imogen, Princess Amarinda, Mott, Renlyn (Original character), Feall (Original character), Jolly (Original character), Roden, Jaron

Notes: edited. im excited to see reactions.

Enjoy!

The atrium was large enough for a group of people, but small enough not to feel empty. Shelves lined the round walls, and the ceiling was made entirely out of glass. Plants, books, and small collected trinkets rested in odd places. Couches and padded chairs of all designs had been placed strategically around the massive fireplace. A massive rug kept the chairs a safe distance from the fire, which illuminated a series of paintings.

It was a treasure among the castle’s numerous libraries.

Renlyn had been responsible for most of the furnishings. She'd managed to turn a stern room into one of the most favorite places in the castle for Jaron’s inner circle.

"That's nice," Tobias said, gesturing to the book covers Amarinda, Imogen, and Renlyn were embroidering.

Imogen’s creampuff of a kitten opened a single green eye, stared at Tobias, and settled back against Imogen’s arm.

"Thank you, I suppose, but my embroidery has always been severely lacking," Amarinda teased, holding up her mediocre book cover. "I refuse to give up."

"I think you've improved," muttered Renlyn.

Amarinda feigned offense as everyone in the room began nodding.

Tobias kept his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the tower window. He kept hearing pieces of Amarinda’s conversation, but couldn’t contribute.

It was an unspoken pact that each time there was a regents’ meeting, Amarinda and Imogen would gather all information possible, and discuss it with each other while they tended to their needlework. Renlyn had been invited, but no husbands were allowed to participate.

Eventually, Tobias earned the right to be in the same room during a needlepoint session, and did his best not to encroach on the discussions.

"Very true, I still remember some of your earliest designs," Imogen yawned.

"Play fair, I was a child at one point."

"As were we all,” Imogen mused. “Except Renlyn, I suppose"

“I emerged from the womb fully grown, it’s true.”

Amarinda snorted, and pulled her needle free from its thread. She frowned. “I do wish I’d stop doing that.”

“Perhaps you should consider a longer tail?” Renlyn gestured to the long thread dangling from her own needle.

“Be careful with a longer tail, it sometimes causes the string to knot,” added Imogen.

Tobias, who didn’t know much about the art of embroidery, turned to one of the shelves. His practice fippler stared at him from its dusty pedestal.

Several weeks ago, Jolly had made his home in one of the many rooms in the castle, and offered to teach Tobias the fippler.

However, Tobias was a natural disaster when it came to certain instruments, and he made no point in practicing after Jolly left to perform for a Lord’s daughter’s wedding in the northwest corner of Carthya. The fippler knew Tobias’s sin.

He picked it up, and wriggled some of the pieces. Tobias blew a series of extremely off key notes through the mouthpiece. Imogen’s cat hissed and ran beneath her skirts.

The cringe he wore rivaled the crown of garbage that adorned some of the Vault entrances.

In practicing the fippler, Tobias failed to notice how close Amarinda, Renlyn, and Imogen had gotten. The veil and circlet Renlyn wore over her hair hid both Renlyn’s and Imogen’s faces. Amarinda drew her head back from the secret conversation, a smile on her face.

Don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop.

Ah! He could quietly play the fippler and look at all of the trinkets on the shelves. Many of them weren’t Carthyan, and even more of them had been made by Jaron, Imogen, and Fink.

The most beautiful image was a bird made from the outline of a hand, the thumb outline served as a head, and the other four outlined fingers served as colorful feathers. Jaron’s signature took up the entire bottom portion of the image.

Tobias flinched as a loud, pitchy squeal escaped from the fippler.

All members of the embroidery trio looked at him. His ears burned.

Jolly was going to kill him for abusing the instrument.

Unable to continue mistreating the fippler, for both his sanity, the women’s sanity, and the fippler’s sanity, Tobias set the instrument down on another shelf. He’d have to pick up practicing later.

Tobias took a step onto the rug and turned around himself. Shelves of books, bottled flowers, angry wooden knights Roden and Jaron used to throw at each other; the atrium was filled with hints of his friends.

Without the fippler, Tobias wasn’t distracted from Amarinda’s conversation.

He couldn’t stop himself from catching strings of phrases.

Certain words stuck out; words like “Blackberry Night”, and “Mandatory”.

Don’t intrude, Tobias, don’t intrude. They invited him to be in the same room because he didn’t feel the need to stick his nose into their business.

“- it wouldn’t be difficult,” Renlyn chuckled. “The decorations can be reused.”

Amarinda hummed, “But do they match our preferred color palette?”

“Do the colors even need to match the color palette?” Imogen asked.

Don’t intrude, don’t intrude.

Both Renlyn and Amarinda gasped, and then shushed each other.

All three of them were plotting. Tobias peered over his shoulder, only to make eye contact with Amarinda. He flung his gaze back to the window and prayed his flushed face would soon return to normal.

“Tobias?” Amarinda wore a charming smile. “Do you want to join our circle?”

“I thought I’d never get an invit-! Yes, I would love to join your circle, I appreciate your offer,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

“I brought up Jaron’s stance on Blackberry Night,” Imogen explained. She and Renlyn inched away from Amarinda. “We decided we’ll take care of the party ourselves.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said as he sat down by Amarinda, grateful for the space Renlyn and Imogen had made for him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He recognized the proud look on Renlyn’s face. It was the look of a woman who knew how much power she had. The corner of her mouth turned up, the closest to a smile Tobias had ever seen from her. “Not exactly. I’ll be providing decorations for the castle. We’ve decided that we’ll require a series of colors for everyone to wear; the decision to host Blackberry Night has been a little short notice, and a lot of nobles wouldn’t be able to find something new to wear in time.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose I can help get the word out.”

Amarinda nodded, “I’ve agreed to help set up the decorations.”

“Our goal is to set up as much as we can before Jaron notices,” Imogen explained. “He puts a lot on his shoulders, and it’s only fair that we help him.”

“And I’m the one paying for Blackberry Night, not the crown, so our lovely king and queen don’t need to worry about the cost,” Renlyn sat a little straighter.

Sometimes Tobias forgot just how much wealth the Karises had. Renlyn didn’t enjoy discussing her assets outside of a business transaction.

“How long will it take you to get the decorations here?” Amarinda asked, setting her embroider on her lap.

Renlyn smirked, “Not very long at all, I have a residence not far from here, and I can always rent.”

Tobias tilted his head, “What exactly do you want to see done?”

“Trellises, blackberries hanging from the ceiling. I’d very much like Blackberry Night to look like a dream.”

“A dream? Amarinda is an expert when it comes to creating an atmosphere, you won’t be disappointed, Lady Ren.”

“Oh, I know, and if I am, I’ll redo everything by myself.”

She continued to explain that she wanted the magic of the party to stretch out as far as it could. Those who weren’t nobility would have their own rustic celebrations, and Renlyn wanted to be able to experience that same concept without having to take a tumble through leech filled mud. An army of farmers were awaiting her call to bring harvested berries and branches to the castle.

The entire castle was to be decorated, and it needed to be at least halfway done before Jaron returned from checking in on Feall.

Something was nagging at the back of Tobias’s mind.

Something important.

“Renlyn, how can you even afford this?” He asked, racking his brain for everything he knew about the Karises.

It wasn’t much.

She waved her hand, “I know how to make a profit.”

A profit. Tobias wrinkled his nose, there had to be more to it than that.

He wondered if the current unrest following the name Mireldis Thay had anything to do with Lady Renlyn Karise.

No amount of courage could motivate Tobias to blurt that out to the world.

“So it’s settled, we’re setting up as much as we can over the next two hours?” Imogen asked, a devilish glint sparkling in her tea-colored eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Renlyn winked. “Call in the page outside, I’ll send word to my staff. They’ll be excited to get involved.”

“I do have to recommend that we bring in fake pools. Queen Danika did that for her daughter’s birthday, and they were quite popular,” said Amarinda as she reached for Tobias’s hand.

“That-, that really would add a little extra something to Blackberry Night.”

Tobias grinned as he pictured Renlyn’s splendid plan for Blackberry Night. He’d always avoided participating in Blackberry Night while he was younger; many people used Blackberry Night to drink barrels and barrels of bees wine and lead wild hunts for fairies. It was a fool’s holiday, but a welcome one.

A tradition among young couples was to take a bouquet of flowers, wrap them together, and write a secret wish to tie to the wrapping. You’d take the bouquet and your secret wish with you to one of the many dances, find your partner, and hold onto the bouquet as you danced to light jigs and reels. The longer you held onto your bouquet, the more likely your wish would come true.

When the church bells rung at midnight, you and your partner would rush to the Roving River, and throw your bouquet into the water.

It was your choice whether or not you’d tell your wish to your partner.

Although in certain cases, certain wishes could be fulfilled during the remainder of Blackberry Night. Typically, these wishes led to rushed weddings and a series of babies born in the spring.

“Excited for Blackberry Night, love?” Amarinda asked, reaching over to brush her fingers over Tobias’s curls.

“We’ll see, I might have to tend to the drunken nobles who’ll try to punch their way through stained glass,” Tobias snickered. He looked back at Amarinda, studying her every feature. “Although. . . I do know of a few favors I can call in if needed.”

“I’d like that; I’d hate to be stuck with Roden as a dance partner again.”

“Why? Does he step on your toes?”

She laughed, “He’s a skilled dancer, surprisingly enough, but he’s not my husband.”

Tobias reached for Amarinda’s hand, and kissed her fingers, “I’ll pull strings, you’ll have a dance partner for Blackberry Night.”

“Then I’ll find a bouquet of flowers to throw.”

“Does that mean you’re writing the wish this year?”

“Absolutely,” Amarinda smiled. “And I won’t tell you what it is.”

“Are you sure?” Tobias stuck his bottom lip out as far as he could.

“You won’t get a single word out of me.”

The bounce of her red-brown curls captured all of Tobias’s attention as she threw back her head to laugh. Amarinda was a creature of grace and poise, and Tobias couldn’t stand the thought of his life without her.

Somebody was calling his name- probably Renlyn.

He didn’t care.

He could spend an eternity watching every flick of Amarinda’s hands.

The conversation continued without him.

“Right, as I was saying,” Renlyn wrinkled her nose. “My workers will be here within the hour. Amarinda, you’re welcome to include Tobias in decorating the main hall. Imogen, I take it you can handle the cooks?”

Imogen nodded, “They’ll be more than happy to spite Jaron in a way that won’t get them into serious trouble.”

“I suppose that’s good.”

“To clarify, we’ve decided on creams, pinks, and golds for the dress code?” Amarinda asked, excitement sparkling through her hands.

Tobias could sense the energy she carried.

He waited for Renlyn’s confirmation, and shared a smile with Amarinda. A ball was much needed at Drylliad. They’d be able to dance around the floor and forget the Faola, Mireldis Thay, and Oberson’s meddling hands for a few hours.

They’d be able to throw a bouquet and a secret wish into the Roving River and hope it comes true.

There were a handful of wishes always lingering in the back of Tobias’s mind, but he knew eventually their time would come.

It was a matter of being patient.

“Do you, ah,” Amarinda’s voice dropped. “Want to find a nice corner with me?”

“A nice corner? We’re in a nice- oh! That kind of corner!” Tobias chuckled, his ears burning as he realized what Amarinda was hinting at.

“I take that as a yes?”

“It better not be a corner where I can see you,” Renlyn gagged. “So childish.”

Renlyn’s obvious discomfort at the possibility of catching Tobias and Amarinda tenderly wrapped in an embrace drew a series of giggles from Imogen. She smiled, “It’s only childish if you get caught. I strictly remember seeing you with-“

“That’s not important!”

“Does Renlyn have a secret admirer?” Amarinda widened her eyes, plastering a mask of utter shock on her features.

“I most certainly do not! I have better things to do with my time!”

“Kissing is a good thing to do when you have the time,” Tobias teased. “Especially when you have the right partner, speaking of which. . .”

Renlyn jumped to her feet, “Don’t! No, no, no! I don’t want to see that!”

Tobias pressed a kiss to Amarinda’s nose, “See this?”

“No, I think she means this,” Amarinda explained, leaning in to kiss Tobias’s smile.

The cry of frustration Renlyn made only made Imogen laugh harder, which made Amarinda laugh, and then lead to Tobias’s burst of laughter too. Renlyn stood up, embroidery in hand, and bowed.

“I’ll be meeting with my staff, send a page if you have any questions,” she spat. “And if I find out the decorations aren’t taken care of because the two of you are off in a corner unable to keep your hands to yourselves, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Ren, we’re just teasing you,” Amarinda’s laughter was contagious, her smile lit up the room.

“Whatever, I’m trusting you to stick to your duties.”

“And I promise neither Tobias nor I will disappoint.”

“Is this the conclusion to Drylliad’s first party planning committee meeting?” Imogen asked, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Consider this meeting adjourned, we’ll return to further discuss our plans in a few hours’ time,” Renlyn bowed her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and left the atrium

“Party planning committee?” Tobias couldn’t contain his laughter.

Imogen shrugged, “We needed an official name, ‘Sisters of the Book Embroidery Circle and Tobias’ doesn’t really work.”

“Does this mean we’re going to go behind Jaron’s back when he says he’ll think about throwing parties?” Amarinda wrinkled her nose. “I’m in, especially if party funds come from our purses rather than Carthya’s.”

Amarinda was proving her promise to Renlyn only half an hour later; after she and Tobias had finished in their private corner of course.

Tobias had witnessed battle firsthand, he’d been subject to various types of terrors, and he’d seen many a grisly sight while working with the royal physician.

His precious wife had the strength of a military commander when it came to planning a party.

Her troops were the artisans and servants standing at her feet. Half of them held themselves like cornered mice, and the other half gawked at Amarinda. Her ability to capture any crowd’s attention was a talent not many people had.

“My lady, traditionally, Blackberry Night is much less detailed,” explained a larger gentleman.

Tobias wasn’t exactly sure what position the large gentleman held.

“No, no,” Amarinda shook her head. “I don’t think you understand, it’s vital that we stick to pinks, golds, and creams. This should be treated like a gala, not a barn dance.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to add, Amarinda was handling the situation on her own. He’d rather remain silent than hold her back.

So he watched his wife command her troops.

Amarinda motioned for several servants carrying baskets of brambles to stand before her. She instructed them to put the brambles around the base of every column in the great hall. With that taken care of, Amarinda began instructing the next group.

Watching her was fascinating. Tobias continued to stand behind her, watching as the great hall slowly began its transformation.

When he was younger, his grandmother brought him wondrous books of fairies and knights. Tobias could remember that one of the books was painted, and bore pictures of a magnificent fairy kingdom.

By the time Renlyn, Amarinda, and Imogen were done with the castle, Tobias was certain he’d see that fairy kingdom in person.

“Do you think Renlyn will take care of the lights? She didn’t give me specific instructions, and I’d hate to mess up her grand vision,” Amarinda said, reaching back for Tobias’s hand.

“I think it’s alright,” he shrugged. “She trusts you enough to do this.”

Was it wrong that Tobias was slightly shocked that Renlyn was even allowing Amarinda, Imogen, and himself to help with her plans?

He’d grown to be on better terms with her, but Tobias knew how important order was to Lady Renlyn Karise. Trusting others to maintain that order wasn’t always an easy choice.

Tobias would know. He’d rather do things on his own than trust the other physician’s apprentices to do the same task.

The front doors burst open, and a trio of men stumbled in.

Odd, Roden and his friends rarely slurred around drunk during the day. Was that Mott with them?

Tobias rolled his eyes, returning his attention to Amarinda and the task at hand. It wasn’t his responsibility to limp Roden and whoever else up to their rooms. They were grown men, and Tobias didn’t want to play nursemaid any longer.

“By the Saints-,” Amarinda gasped, shooing the servants away. “Tobias, Tobias! Look!”

“It’s only Roden, I think he managed to drag Mott to a tavern this time,” he waved his hand.

Amarinda’s voice went small, “That’s Jaron, Tobias, not Roden.”

It clicked into place, almost. The realization wasn’t quite there, similar to the way not every toy’s pieces fit together when assembled by a child.

Roden was shoving his way through the small crowd that had gathered around Mott, and was pushing them back as Harlowe ducked under Jaron’s arm. Feall had his arm wrapped around his torso, supported by Mott.

Vomit stained Jaron’s trousers.

His skin was paler than the freshly washed sheets out in the courtyard.

Tobias recognized the lines of pain on Jaron’s face. The creases in between his brows grew deeper as Jaron fought off tears. Jaron didn’t have any outer injuries.

This was much worse.

“Get him upstairs!” Tobias barked, his voice not his own. “Mott, tell me what happened, spare me no details.”

“Faola attack,” Mott grunted, and transferred half of Feall’s weight to Roden’s outstretched arms. “He was asking for Feall, Jaron attacked, the Faola got a kick at Jaron’s right leg and sent him straight down. Commander Regar managed to hold the Faola off long enough to escape, but Feall is sporting an-”

“Take care of the king!” Feall growled. “I was foolish to trust you Carthyans with this matter, and now Regar is dead!”

Roden was practically carrying Feall, “Did you see Regar fall?”

Mott shook his head, “Regar is in danger, Roden, I can handle carrying Feall up to the physician’s chambers, but you need to save Regar. Check by the Vaults, lower Drylliad.”

“Don’t let either of them die, Tobias,” Roden grunted. “I’ll be back.”

Faces of shock passed. Tobias ordered the physician’s apprentices out of the chamber, and instantly began shuffling through herbs and poultices. Imogen soon joined him, and began grinding various herbs into powder.

She was pouring the mixture down Jaron’s throat within seconds.

Tobias began patting down Jaron’s ankle, checking for broken bones. He couldn’t see any evidence of breakage, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any damage.

“Imogen?” Tobias asked, gesturing to Jaron’s thigh. “Any breaks?”

She shook her head, “None that I can feel. Hand me a knife, I can cut through the trouser leg.”

“You’re being awfully calm.”

“My anger is balancing my hysteria, Tobias. I promise you’ll see my temper very soon.”

Her threat carried too much weight.

Her tea-colored eyes so full of kindness turned to stone all too easily.

“Come- come here,” Jaron murmured, sweat trailing down his temples. “Imogen-.”

“Keep quiet, I promise I’ll listen,” Imogen swore, she quietly gestured to the shears on Tobias’s worktable.

Shears in hand, Tobias began cutting away Jaron’s trouser leg, tossing aside the vomit covered fabric each time he finished with it.

“I know- I know who- ah!”

“Sorry, found the bruise,” Tobias choked, gesturing to the foot sized shadow on Jaron’s thigh.

He’d never heard Imogen swear that profusely before.

“The Faola did this to you?” Imogen murmured, her hands balling into fists.

“I suppose he didn’t like my sense of-,” Jaron coughed. “My sense of humor. But that’s not what I need to-”

Tobias frowned at Jaron’s bruise, “He needs to stop talking.”

“I think I know who Mireldis Thay is!”

“Imogen, he’s getting delirious-”

“Let me speak To- ow!” Jaron flung his head back against his pillow. “Curse this-!”

Jaron’s forehead was slightly warmer than usual, but not dangerously hot. His ramblings cut through the chamber as Tobias left Imogen at Jaron’s bedside, and returned with a damp cloth for Jaron’s forehead.

He once again swore that he knew who Mireldis Thay was.

“Where’s Ren?” rasped Jaron.

“She’s busy,” Tobias said. “And you need to rest. Your leg is bruised, but not broken. You’re to lay low for the next few days.”

“There’s too much to do!”

“You’ll have to trust us to take care of it then. We’ll put on Blackberry Night in your absence.”

“Tobias!”

“Imogen’s in on it too!”

That earned him a pair of angry glares. Imogen frowned, and dabbed at Jaron’s forehead, “You need to lay back, Jaron. Can you do that for me?”

The fire in Jaron’s eyes was clouded with pain, even Tobias could see that. He grumbled a complaint, but finally settled back into the pillows.

Mott lingered in the back of the chamber, and gestured for Tobias.

Imogen had finally managed to capture Jaron’s attention. His gaze was glued to her face. Every so often, Imogen brushed a stray curl from his damp forehead.

They didn’t need Tobias’s company.

“Do you think Regar will be alright?” Tobias asked as he stood next to Mott. He pressed a hand over his heart, hoping the motion would force himself to calm down.

“Count to ten, time sped up for a moment,” Mott murmured. “Does it always feel that rushed when somebody comes needing medical attention?”

One, two, three. . .Tobias inhaled. Four, five, six. . . Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

The stakes were different in Jaron’s case because not only was he Tobias’s friend, he was also the king. Jaron’s survival was the highest priority.

Death was unpredictable, and Tobias only had his mind to combat it.

“Yes and no,” he shrugged. “Sometimes the patient is too far gone, and sometimes the rush of the moment slows to a still. I always carry extra concern for Jaron; you never know what kind of trouble he gets into.”

“Where is Feall?” Mott scratched the back of his bald head.

“Another chamber, we typically keep patients in separate spaces, keeps things clean and tidy.”

Tobias pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart had finally calmed.

A lone Faola had attacked four men, if Mott’s report was true. The Faola challenged not only Feall, but Mott, Regar, and the king of Carthya.

Two of those four were left wounded.

Roden would be returning soon with word about the third.

“Jaron’s claiming that he knows who Mireldis Thay is,” Tobias noted.

“Not quite sure how he figured that out, or where he got the time,” said Mott. He inhaled. “Is he going to be alright?”

If Tobias’s assumption was right, and the only damage Jaron sustained was that large bruise on his leg, everything would be fine.

But things rarely worked out in Tobias’s favor.

He rolled his shoulders forward ever so slightly, his mind winding through layers and layers of ignored findings. The Faola had attacked Feall so long ago, and Tobias had to stand in Roden’s way.

His kindness had brought harm to Jaron, his closest friend.

This was his fault.

“I can see your guilt, Tobias,” Mott muttered. He frowned, “This is out of your control.”

“But I was there, Mott, I was there during the first attack. I couldn’t let somebody die, and now Jaron’s tossing on a medical cot because of it!”

Tobias flinched at his own words.

He hadn’t meant to grow so frustrated.

Had they been wrong in pushing aside Mireldis Thay? Did she have more to do with the Faola? Was Feall right in fearing her every move?

Was Oberson’s irrational fear of Lady Thay really that irrational?

Imogen chuckled lightly, she was holding Jaron’s hand. His eyes had finally closed.

“There’s something I-,” Jaron paused to heave in a breath. “Tobias, you need to do something for me.”

“Promise me you’ll rest and I’ll consider it,” Tobias countered.

Jaron’s ghostly smile didn’t belong on his exhausted face. “I need you to ask questions for me.”

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

The great hall had changed in the few hours Tobias had tended to Jaron. Renlyn’s staff was all too talented at quietly setting up for a ball.

He doubted that this was the first time she’d set something up like this.

It was easy, slipping through the crowds of servants rushing to fulfill Renlyn’s requests. Tobias usually didn’t sneak. There wasn’t a reason to suspect him of everything.

But this time was different.

This time, he was sneaking around for Jaron. His instructions were clear.

Jaron insisted that a certain troubadour knew more than he let on. It was this realization that led to Jaron’s bruised leg, he was sure of it.

Jolly would be hiding at the Dragon’s Keep, singing bawdy songs and asking for garlins.

It was Tobias’s duty to get Jolly to share crucial information.

Tobias? A spy?

It was bad enough sneaking around trying to find murky answers, but it was worse knowing that Jaron expected a handful of murky answers.

The Dragon’s Keep was more crowded than usual. Tobias crossed his arms as he slipped in, dodging as many flying fists as he could.

The bright orange jerkin was the first thing he saw. Jolly was slumped in a corner booth, his lute at his side.

“Not who I was expecting, Lord Branch,” Jolly smirked. He gestured to the open seat across from him. “I’m only a little disappointed, but you’re welcome to take a seat.”

“Who were you hoping for?” Tobias muttered, sitting down across from Jolly. He shook his head when a barmaid offered to bring him a drink.

“A king, I suppose.”

“Jaron?”

“Be more creative.”

“Oberson?”

“Closer, but not quite.”

Games, games. Tobias pinched his nose, “Jaron was attacked today, he was trying to keep an eye out for Feall.”

“He’s meddling,” Jolly called over a barmaid, asking for another drink. “You caught me at a bad time, I’m frustrated and raging drunk.”

“Why?”

“Friends, I suppose. I love my friend with my whole heart, but she’s going down a path I will not follow.”

Ah ha! Jolly had left a door open for questions. Tobias leaned his elbows on the table, trying his best not to seem too eager. “What’s her name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, doctor boy?”

“I would, actually.”

“It’s not my story to tell, I’m sorry,” Jolly took his fresh tankard, and drained as much liquid as he could.

It wasn’t his story to tell. A friend was going down an unfollowable path. A lute was playing, and a man’s low voice rang through the hushing crowd. Jaron had hummed the song multiple times throughout the week.

Ingrithay.

Tobias smacked his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting vital history lessons with his wife late at night. Ingrid Thay. Ingri. Ingri Thay.

Ingrithay.

“Ingrithay is about the queen of Idunn Craich, isn’t it? Queen Ingrid Thay, wife of Graer Thay, stepmother to Mireldis Thay. You’ve been dropping clues.”

Jolly threw back his head and laughed, “I’ve been dropping clues!?! I’ve thrown them to you as best I can, but I will not tell the story. It is against what I do; if I can’t keep a secret, I can’t keep my head.”

“I’m a member of Queen Danika’s family, you can-”

“Through marriage, Lord Branch,” Jolly corrected.

“That still holds, you can tell me. You have nothing to fear. I know you know who Mireldis Thay is, and I want to help. Tell me who she is, and we can-”

“I love Mireldis Thay more than I fear any king or queen, my Lord. No bargaining in the world would change my stance.”

Tobias had never seen Jolly’s face so serious before, and frankly, it frightened him. There was no trace of a smile or a musical note.

Nothing but determination.

“Amarinda and I want to-,” Tobias began, but Jolly held up his hand.

“I’ll give you a single hint, but don’t betray my trust, Tobias. There is more to me than music and laughter.”

More than music and laughter.

He shuddered despite the warmth in the tavern.

Jolly drained the rest of his tankard, and slammed it down. He dragged his hand across his face, “Mireldis Thay has a bone to pick. I won’t help her, and I won’t stop her, but you can do what you can.”

“Tell me where she is, Jolly,” Tobias grunted. “She attacked the king, didn’t she?”

“To her, Jaron is a blocking piece. She’s still a princess, despite this all, and you know how royals get.”

A memory flashed across Tobias’s vision.

A glimpse of a smug, rare smirk.

His heart thudded in his ears, and he was certain he was correct.

But he needed Jolly to say it.

Tobias’s voice was small. Too small. “Mireldis Thay has been living under our noses the entire time, hasn’t she?”

All it took was the slightest nod of Jolly’s head. “You know her, and I know her. Mireldis has played this game with only one goal in mind, and soon she’ll have her winning move.”

A rare smirk, a flash of gold hair. Tobias pressed his fists to his eyes.

Mireldis Thay, a fugitive, was serving the queen of Carthya.

And Tobias had left her in the castle, close enough to the king to strike a killing blow.

He tried to ignore Jolly’s chilling laugh as he fled the tavern.

#fic friday #the ascendance series #ocs #the whole crew got involved with this one #tospias #tobias #prince jaron #roden #princess amarinda #imogen #mott

[questionsonislam]

Why was Man Created? What Should Be His Purpose and Goal?

'For what purpose has man been created is the most frequent question that we are asked. Asking ourselves or others such a question is a great divine blessing for us. To be more precise, neither did the sun ask itself that question nor was another star able to ask the sun that question. Furthermore, a sheep or a bee is unable to ask each other that question. That is, mankind, looking for the answer to it, is left free to use his body in whatever area he wishes, and is subjected to trial and testing for it.

The only solution to be successful in this trial is to learn the correct answer to the question from the One creating us. Whoever reaches this point knocks the door of the truth. And they are provided with the reply through the tongue of the Revealed Quran and the Prophet.

I have only created Jinn and men, that they may serve Me The Winds that Scatter (Az-Záriyát :51 ;56).

According to the Risale-i Nur Collection (the Treatise of Light), the meaning of worship is knowledge. Many of our interpreters of the Quran agree with that interpretation. The worships such as prayers and fasting are the outcomes of this knowledge. That is to say, man, first of all, should comprehend that bounties requires offering thanks to Allah so that he can offer thanks and praise to Allah.

Before anything else, man should know that the divine miracles filling the universe necessitate deep thinking and wonder so that he will fulfill his duty of glorifying and exalting Allah

Having come to the conclusion that he should have mercy on the other people, he can proceed to the path of giving charity alms (zakat).

All of them are the fruit of faith and knowledge, in other words believing in Allah and knowing Him.

A lesson of knowledge from Risale-i Nur Collection: "O man! In the face of manifestations of Dominicality, the elevated purpose of the universe is man's universal worship and submission to God. (Words)

Dominicality means educating and training. This act manifests itself in a different form, beauty, and perfection in each realm of this universe. And we proclaim our awareness of this various education to God, the Sustainer of All of the Worlds when we recite the Fatiha during each prayer.

It is Allah that educates the world of lights, and eyes too. And by offering thanks to our Almighty God we fulfill our duty of worship for the manifestation of the dominicality through the contemplation that the sun is raised in a way that it gives light and our eyes can benefit from it.

Taking into account that the foodstuff is grown to be edible so that our mouth, tongue and stomach can enjoy them and accepting Gods infinite bounties in deep wonderment and glorification, we again respond with worship to that dominicality.

The universe was created for the sake of man and man was created to worship Allah. Two words here draw our attention; elevated and universality. These two words indicate that apart from us, there are other beings performing those services. The point to be emphasized here is that man is capable of carrying out the duty of worship better and more universally than them. Those beings that we mention are angels and jinn.

While thinking carefully about a fruit, an angel observes in wonder that the shapeless, uncolored elements of the past have turned to beautiful beings today and hard trees have yielded fruit. However, it cannot think about the taste, vitamin, and calorie of it on the grounds that his capacity is not suitable for it.

At this point, human race has been granted an absolutely different talent. Thanks to his mind and imagination faculty, he is able to think not only what is present but also many things invisible at that time and even to contemplate about the past and future. Thus, his mind, idea, understanding and prosperity become more universal. When he eats a fruit, he can think that almost infinite members of more than one million animate beings are provided with sustenance, and he is one of those benefiting from that divine sustenance and by this means, he will be able to think deeply about the name of Sustainer of the Almighty God.

If he wishes, he takes his mind to the past and future. With the help of his imagination, he ponders all sorts of bounties and those utilizing them throughout all the times; and his contemplation gets deeper.

We can say similar things about the manifestations of all His Divine Names.

While the verse You alone do we worship is explained in the Treatise of Light, our attention is called to the subtleness of using We instead of I; in fact, three different groups are suggested by this utterance. One of them is all the believers, the others are all our organs, cells and senses that are functioning differently inside our bodies and engaged in a different worship peculiar to each other. The last group is the entire beings.

That means man is capable enough to declare You alone do we worship on behalf of all other beings. Even if he prays alone, the man eluding from individuality and submitting the worship of all other beings to His Lord can perform a universal glorification.

The fact that man is the fruit of this universe brings about this result. Should we fancy that all the units of a tree are conscious, the fruit will be the one making the most universal contemplation. It is because the kernel of the fruit contains the ability to represent all the worship and contemplation of the tree.

Those performing this universal glorification in the most advanced way are prophets and particularly Our Prophet (peace and blessing of Allah be upon Him), who are the most beautiful fruits of the tree of the universe.

There is a close connection between the elevated purpose and universal worship and the following Divine Hadith: If it were not for you, I would not create the universe.

There are plenty of subjects discussing the responsibility of the man in the Light Collection. We would like to submit some of them as a summary:

-Using your knowledge, willpower, seeing and hearing that your soul have been equipped with as a Divine gift as a means of knowing the attributes of Allah. Taking advantage of these knowledge windows opened inside your soul to recognize the Divine attributes.

-Employing the power of reasoning in the sphere of wisdom, the power of passion in the way of chasteness, and the power of anger as a means of sacred courage.

-Giving your love only to Allah, and loving the creatures in His name and because they are the mirrors to His Names, His Perfection, and His Beauty.

-By having the consciousness that he has been created with a nature capable of performing every sort of worship, trying to benefit from every sort of worship at the utmost level.

-Turning the face of your heart, sense of secret, spirit, mind, even the power of imagination and other senses towards the eternal life and thus engaging them in their particular worships.

-Unlocking the infinite treasures of Compassion by each sense, making use of them and offering universal thanks.

-Contemplating the Power of Allah compared to your weakness, the Mercy of Him by looking at your deprivation, the Perfection of Him by reasoning your deficiencies. Knowing that your Creator has the endless perfection, compassion and power, but that your soul has unending needs, poverty and deficiency.

-Coming to the presence of Allah by keeping your spirit away from sins, and your body away from all sort of dirtiness.

- Presenting yourself to the looks of the angels and spirit beings in that you are the most excellent work of God.

So, man has been created for sublime goals like those. However, unfortunately many people have forgotten themselves and they strive to live comfortably only in their worldly life being completely ignorant of those elevated purposes. Although man has the capacity to represent the worship of the entire universe, he merely aims to gain the favor of the people around him and tries to seem pleasant to them.

After a while, he also passes away just like the other people and all his objectives and he himself disappear when buried under the ground.

#Allah #god #islam #quran #muslim #revert #convert #revert islam #convert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islam help #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new convert #new revert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[ftpthemovement]

Strengthen the Believers

Nails 

1st Degree: 3 Nails Pendant - (Learning Gods Sacrifice)

What Christ did for you. (Forgiving others, making peace, riding vices, self reflection) 

Chapter Reading:  

John/Acts/Galatians/ Ephesians/ Philippians

Document notes of chapter reading in journal 

Actions

* Ask for forgiveness to as many as you remember wronging. Retrace past events and try to arrange meetings or phone conversations to make amends.

*Ask 12 elderly people what they would do different if they could start back young and do life over. Write down the answers and share them with your overseer. 

* Take two days devoted to spending time with a watchmen. If your group is new, take two days decayed to spending time hanging. Out with your group getting to know each other.

Document what you have learned, and share it with the overseer, or with your group as a collective.

Cross

2nd Degree: The Cross Pendant- Denying self (sacrifice of following Christ)

Calculate the cost

Chapter Reading: Luke/Romans/1 Peter/2nd Peter/1st Corinthians/2nd Corinthians 

* Give what you don’t have to give.

Everyone is different and according to their own heart let them find Gods answer. God himself will lead them them In the direction they should go. For others, this is a time of prayer, do not try to create influence from your opinion or what you choose. Allow them time to walk in relationship with God, and he will make it known to them the direction they should take.

Eagle 

3rd Degree: The Eagle Pendant - Trusting God

Provision. (Getting out of your comfort zone, trusting Gods supply)

Learning to step out and trust God. Learning patience and endurance, Getting over the spirit of offense, learning to overcome people falling away from you. Learning to endure persecutions and misunderstandings. Learning to draw on Gods supply and not the worlds supply. Freeing yourself if expectations.

 *Set up an outreach of generosity personally requesting people to join

*Go evangelize in the city and invite a team with you, proclaiming “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!" Explain to them repentance is turning from your ways and seeking Gods way. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.

* Start a prayer book for your brothers and your family. Take a binder and write the names of as many people as you can think of and pray over that book daily.

*Privately perform a selfless act of Generosity 

Chapter Reading: Mark/Hebrews/Colossians/

1 Thessalonians/2nd Thessalonians

Hook

4th Degree: Fish Hook Pendant 

(The great commission in action)

Walking out the great commission through action and in truth. Learning how to share your testimony with others. Inviting people to come and participate in your weekly group gatherings.

*Do 8 outreaches focused street evangelism and prayer 

*One Outreach or other event held by you 

*Address your brothers of your intentions of wanting to become a watchman 

Chapter Reading: Matthew/1st Timothy/2nd Timothy/ Titus/Colossians

Watchmen

5th Degree: The Watchmen Pendant 

(Teach others through action and Truth) 

Chapter Reading: 1st John/2nd John/ 3rd John

Jude/Revelations 

 *Wash each disciples feet of your group   

* Help in homeless or prison ministry

*Commit to tithing to FTP The Movement, so we can continue to expand across the nations, providing refreshment in our local communities, and communities throughout the world.

A large army is hard to move. It has many minds, and many motives, and is extremely hard to please. But a highly trained group of 6-12 men who have been commissioned, are unified in body and mind, have proven to be the most strategic, effective groups in the world.

This approach to discipleship is an absolute game changer. This is the way to bring men who are far from Christ to Christ, and walk his will out through action and truth. Don’t ever forsake the assembly. It’s the very thing that spurs us into action, to represent Christ in a lost and dying world, and to bear much fruit! Never settle for a watered down gatherings again. Instead be encouraged and commissioned with willing brothers and sisters who are there to walk your faith out through the transparency of love, care, generosity, forgiveness, and compassion.

I have been in leadership for sometime and have seen many stages of what gatherings look like. From traditional church gatherings, to social circles, to groups that gather to complain about their problems and feel better, but never take action to change them. To this I say, when you gather, it should no longer be about what others can do for you, it’s about what you can do for others. Pay special attention to those who are in need, lead them by example. You will find when you belive right, you will love right. Correctly addressing your attention to your savior, and not your sin, making you effective, and not ineffective for the kingdom of God.

When you gather, take communion with one another in remembrance of the Lord. “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.” Gather together and ask how everyone has been, and if ther is any prayers needed. Then read scripture to build each other up, and plan out your missions into your local community to provide refreshment. You should be as active as possible in the community, looking to provide refreshment to as many as possible, using your various giftings.

When you do this, your group may continue to grow. When this occours, carefully, and prayerfully appoint leaders. If appointed as leader, do fall victim to pride or the mindset of leadership, it’s a vain pursuit. You who seek to lead, must be the servant of all. If it is your gifting from God, rely on the Holy Spirit to walk boost in the position, above reproach, exhorting, edifying, and correcting, with all authority. Seek out everything in scripture on the topic of overseers, Timothy, Titus, etc.

Never let groups get larger than 25, twelve is the preferred size. To keep overhead to a minimum meet in places like homes, garages, shops, etc. If meeting in public, speak only words that would edify others if they were to overhear your conversation. Be a light in dark places at all times.

Gatherings should always be about discipleship, and taking action in your local community. Bring all of your tithes and offerings to the storehouse. They should always be donated to FTP THE MOVEMENT INC. through FTP app, Venmo, Cash App, or check via mail. Do not make cash donations to the local group unless specifically raising money outside of tithes and offerings. The tithes and offerings are collected and distributed towards advancing the gospel, providing funding for evangelist in the mission field, and refreshment through wholesale outlets so that each group can bring refreshment to their local community. When we pool our resources together as a collective, we are much more effective in our provisions and overall mission, which is the expansion of the gospel to all nation’s!

Each new group that feels a prompting in their heart to start should have at least two or more people coming together dedicated to consistently. You should decide on a name for your group. Each group will be considered a battalion. Each battalion is given a number. Upon starting you must submit the name of your group, names of each person in that group, their phone number, email, and specific talents and skill trades. When you gather have a sign in sheet of who is in attendance and submit it to [email protected].

This information is collected to keep our non profit status, tax write offs for donors, and to meet specific needs in your particular areas. For example: Say an old lady needs Sheetrock repair in Savannah, Georgia, and Tim Rogers has the time, and knows how to repair it. It allows us to give our members the opportunity (not obligation) to help meet the needs of others, in accordance to Gods will.

FTP does not belong to you, you cannot take ownership of it because it is an ideal. The ideal comes to all nations as a symbol of hope, a lifestyle, that when seen in action is the living unified body of Christ in motion. Do not be attracted to numbers, be attracted to the dedication of action, and the continuous expansion of the gospel.

This is bigger than the ego, bigger than a denomination, bigger than any one contributor could do itself. This is the reformation of the church in the last days. It’s my heart cry that each individual, only through the prompting of the Holy Spirit, take careful and prayerful consideration in joining with us. It’s not for everyone, but we do belive that it is for you. Search your heart men of God. Put to side the differences that seek to cause division, and let’s leverage every opportunity, and resource we have to bring the body of Christ back to the forefront of humanity. Let it be such a loving force of Christ that it cannot be ignored.

““ ‘In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. I will show wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord. And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’”‭‭Acts‬ ‭2:17-21

“Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it. “If you love me, keep my commands. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”

Jesus replied, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Anyone who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me. “All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”‭‭John‬ ‭14:12-21, 23-27‬ ‭

This is a calling to arms, this is for leaders across the nation to search their spirits, and to step forward In mission. Let’s create an infrastructure of resources no longer dedicating funds to stagnant over head cost. Let’s combine our time, talents, and resources to make an impact like never before. There’s much more I want to say to you concerning these matters. My heart burns with the fire of The Holy Spirit as warriors of God cry out “Amen” to these very words. That forgiveness be found with all. All debts be cleared, all animosity and resentment melts to the wayside. Let all division be crippled this very moment in Jesus precious and Holy name. No calloused hearts, no anger amongst men, just the body of Christ in action to the end of age! God be with us always, and protect your families as you make him your refuge and dwell in the shadow of the most high. If you have any prayer requests, specific questions, or want to start a battalion; contact me if you have my number, if not email me directly at [email protected]. We will respond as quickly as possible. Much more will be written especially in each ranking and the messages to come for each. Even without them you can succeed Holy start today and create disciples like never before.

Remeber, people are in need. It’s our opportunity to go out to them the same way Christ did, meeting them where they are at, not wait on them to come to us. It’s time to fly only one banner, and that banner is Christ and Christ crucified. I love you with all of my heart FTP. You have been sent, will you answer the call?

“And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”

From the front lines, ES

#ftpthemovement #eliasstrategos

[baby-army-ff]

meet cute -- Monte & Yoongi

God, the bells at the entrance to Catfish Vinyl echoed in Montego Bridges' worst nightmares.

Worst yet, Monte wasn't asleep or dreaming. And the bells gave away the fact that she was once again fifteen minutes late to clock in. Glancing around the empty lounge, she might have escaped the lecture this time.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't have reliable transportation to work. Of course, she might've lied about it in the interview. And maybe she would have reliable transportation if she didn't blow all her money at the recording studio. But it wasn't her fault. That's what they get for paying minimum wage!

Once she was clocked in, she took her place behind the cash register, whipping out her phone. Chances were no one would come in for the first hour of her shift. That's usually what happened anyways. Why Bruce was such a stuck up about being on time, she'd never know.

"Don't think I didn't hear you come in late again."

"Speaking of the devil." Monte set her phone down on the counter, standing up straight.

"Is that what you do when you're out here alone? Pray to the dark lord?"

She smirked. For all she knew, he could have been into that kind of stuff himself. Bruce had owned the vinyl lounge for longer than she'd been alive. He was one of the few people that could intimidate her, probably due to the fact that he looked right out of one of those mafia murder movies.

"No, I just mindlessly scroll on social media until my eyes glaze over, my brain goes numb, and I start believing that birds are actually government robots recording every aspect of our daily lives."

He shrugged. "That would make a lot of sense."

"And you say I'm the one on my phone too much." She went back to scrolling, popping a mint from the candy jar into her mouth. It was for the customers technically, but she hadn't had to refill the jar in a month. She was doing them a favor really. If they sat for too much longer, they'd probably poison someone.

"Funny, my phone says 4:30. Didn't your shift start at 4:00?"

Groaning, she set her phone down once again. "Are we back on that? If you want the truth, I lost my house keys and was looking everywhere for them."

"Did you find them in your nightstand?"

"How'd you know?" She feigned astonishment.

"That was yesterday's excuse too."

Shoot. She forgot she didn't use the house got flooded excuse yesterday.

"This is strike two, Monte." Bruce gave her the disappointed father look. Not that she knew what that really looked like—she never really got that look from her parents a day in her life.

"Bruce, come on. You know I'm the best worker here. And no one stops by before 5 o'clock."

"Your schedule says 4 o'clock. Period."

She shut her mouth, holding back the groan. When Bruce was serious, he really was serious. She didn't want to push his buttons any further. Though she was tempted to.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow. And I don't promise often."

He seemed appeased by her answer as he went back to sorting through vinyls. She was pretty sure they were in alphabetical order already, but he seemed to really like flipping through the tracks. It really was his passion.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? That disappointed father look on your face is killing me." She was half joking. The other half was her just being bored and hoping he'd give her something to do.

"Sell a vinyl to this customer." He nodded his head towards the entrance.

She hadn't even noticed anyone walking towards the shop. Tucking the phone away in her pocket, the nightmare bells jingled again as her first customer of the day walked in.

"Welcome to Catfish!" She voiced towards the front door. She couldn't really tell anything about the guy that walked in, besides the fact that he had snow white skin. A baseball hat and sunglasses hid any other defining features.

She gestured to Bruce to go to the backroom. She hated when he judged her vinyl knowledge, and he always managed to steal her thunder with all that he knew. She wasn't about to lose this challenge.

She watched over his shoulder, taking note of which vinyls he chose to flip through. His choices were random at first. Of course he flipped through the Beatles. Everyone did that. Eminem. J. Cole. Not much of a selection there, but she could stan them.

"Are you looking for something specific?"

He turned around to look at her still standing behind the counter. "Me?"

She snickered. "No, the ghost next to you." She walked towards where he was standing. "If you like rap, then be prepared to have your world shook. Follow me."

He obeyed, trailing beside her and sipping the large iced coffee in his hand. Black coffee. He must be really desperate to have to drink that stuff.

"We have to stop by Animal Collective, because, well, they're my favorite. And this album is perfection. If I were stoned, not saying I've ever been there, this is what I would want playing in the background. Don't tell anyone I told you that though."

Without words, the boy smiled. That was enough to boost her confidence and keep the album under her arm as an option. Who knows, maybe he'd want it after all.

"Moving on, for rap, this is the best vinyl in the building. Wu-tang Clan. If you haven't heard them, you're missing out. It is my absolute favorite, and, if you don't buy it, I might just buy it for you myself because it's that good."

Pocketing his sunglasses, she was able to see his face as he took the vinyl in his hands. He was clearly Asian, with eyes that looked like they could shoot daggers. Though he looked innocent and gentle, and maybe not a day over twenty. She was a bad judge of age though.

"You know a lot.." He smiled, holding the vinyl carefully.

"I like vinyls. And rap. Unfortunately our rap vinyl collection here is kinda sucky."

"You like rap?"

"I love rap. I actually perform around the corner sometimes—"

"You rap?" His eyes lit up with amazement.

She was used to people being shocked that she wanted to rap. If there was an image to fit, she definitely didn't meet it. But the look in his eyes was more than just surprise. He looked excited.

"Just a little bit." She lied. She'd spent nearly every day for the past month recording at the studio down the street. It really wasn't a big deal though. It was a friend's recording studio, not like a record label or anything. That was still a far off dream.

"That's so cool." He walked to the counter with her, taking longer sips of his coffee along the way.

"So, where are you from?" She made small talk as she rang him up. Usually she hated these parts of the conversation, but she was actually interested this time.

"South Korea."

"What brought you here?"

"Music."

She watched his eyes. He was being genuine, that much she appreciated. She was so over the guys who came in acting like they knew everything about music and vinyls.

She handed over his receipt. "I'm Monte, in case you ever hear about me in the future or anything."

She smiled at his laughter, forcing it into her memory.

"I'm Yoongi."

"Well, come again, Yoongi." Please.

God, where was her head?

The bells jingled as he headed out the door, waving at her one last time. She waved before turning towards the office.

Bruce was already standing in the doorframe. "Are you okay? You look a little.. red in the face." He could hardly hold back the bubbling laughter.

"Whatever." She pulled her phone back out, blocking out his mocking. Why was she so shaken by the boy? There wasn't anything exceptional he said or did. Maybe that's what it was. He was genuinely authentic.

And he liked rap. So that was a plus in her book.

"He bought a vinyl?"

"Two." She said matter of factly. "He bought two."

"Consider your sins repaid. Now go get a drink of water before you overheat."

She ran a hand across her forehead. Since when did he keep the lounge so hot?

#bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts fluff #bts drabble #fanfic #romance #original character #character concept #bts fic #bts imagines #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts jhope #bts taehyung #bts v #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts ff #bts fanfic #meet cute

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori spreads gossip with Ignera Arbell.

Ignera l There is a loud thud as Ignera proceeds to toss another dusty tome into the pile. No, not that one, either. She plucks another one from the tall standing collecting, and flips through it.

Momori is simply passing through the common area - she’s doing her usual patrol throughout the ship. Sneaking into places, in and out of doors, being a general nuisance. But her mind is elsewhere, for as she walks by, she trips over a large pile of books and lands square at the center of the mountain.

Ignera sets forth an irritated huff as this tome, too, seems to not meet up to her expectations. She means to set it back from whence she found it, the smack of a head into the wooden floor earns a slow, but sure turn of her head.

Ignera: "................"

Ignera stares at Momori.

Momori doesn’t look up. Doesn’t get up. Head down, planking.

Momori: “.........................................”

Ignera: "...................................."

Momori: "..............................................................................................."

Ignera slowly sets the tome aside, not looking away from Momori's still shape against the floor.

Ignera: "...................................................................................................."

Momori - But eventually she picks herself back up, and carries on as if the embarrassing event had never happened. Despite the slight red mark on the center of her forehead. “Hi.”

Ignera is a patient woman-- if the last minute had not been evident enough-- and watches with a long smile as the expeditioner sets herself up.

Ignera: "Hi, dear." She greets her as if she had simply walked up to her.

Ignera: "...I did not hear you enter. How long have you...?"

Ignera looks around with a turn of her head there and here. It's more of a gesture.

Momori: “How long have I what?” She steps to the left of the pile of tomes. Her expression turns dark, and her hand moves to rest on the handle of one of her daggers. “What did you see? You saw nothing.”

Ignera 's eyes are an indecipherable thing beneath the shade of her pince-nez, but the other woman is subject to the raise of her brows.

Ignera: "Pray forgive me. I meant to ask how long you have been here."

Ignera: "Tirelessly working upon your patrol, I wager."

Momori moves her hand away from her blade, seemingly satisfied with Ignera’s answer. “Ah. Of course. I have been here for exactly thirty two seconds, now thirty three. Thirty four.” She turns to face the books, and picks up the one on top. Flips through it. “Searching for something?”

Ignera lets loose a soft huff at the recall of numbers, and her hands come to rest at her hips. "Very perceptive. Color me impressed." She assures her, the edge of her smile curling further.

Ignera: "That I am. I was searching for a... fictional novel I found here about a moon ago. I had an inkling to read it again, but I fear someone else might have taken it."

Ignera: "Woe is me..." She sighs out dramatically, her gaze momentarily wistfully turning skyward.

Ignera: "...why are you patrolling in the common room, if I might ask?" She asks.

Momori: “Fictional novel?” Momori purses her lips. “Perhaps I’ve seen it around. What was it about?”

Momori - In response to Ignera’s query: “Oh, just passing by.” The truth? Listening for any juicy conversations. Permanently borrowing lost items. Gluing coins to the floor for later entertainment. There was already one such coin attached beneath the dining table.

Ignera: "'Twas about a Lominsan merchant that gets washed up ashore, falls in love with a Ul'dahn prince, overtakes their government, buys a house in the Goblet, and becomes a Fist of Rhalgr."

Ignera: "....."

Ignera: "It makes sense in the book." She explains.

Ignera: "And have you? Found out anything interesting? I adore gossip."

(Momori) canonically momori knows gossip but i unfortunately do not (Momori) time to spread lies (Ignera) ODSHFAHFODSFDF (Ignera) lalafell shinobis these days all they do is kill, get trauma and lie (Momori) fkjdsl pretty much!!! die, lie, cry :-)

Momori: “.........................”

Momori: “That sounds like trash. But I am aware that some things can go so far into the negative that they end up being positive.” She shakes her head. “Overtakes the Ul’dahn government? A prince? H..Haha. Haha.”

Momori is forcing the laughter.

Momori: “Hmm, gossip. I have heard word that a certain...metal eating someone...was behind the disappearance of much of our loose change. You didn’t hear this from me though.”

Ignera: "It was absolutely atrocious garbage that deserved to be set ablaze for its sin of simply existing." Ignera agrees with a long smile.

Ignera: "Regardless, I wanted to give it another read."

Ignera: "With that said... hm. I may happen to know this person of whom you speak." She says, thoughtfully bringing a hand near her face so she could tap her chin.

Ignera: "They already know the weight of their crimes."

Ignera: "...anything else?" She chirps delightedly.

Momori narrows her eyes juuuust slightly. But she ends up not commenting on Ignera’s desire to read the saucy novel.

Momori: “Their crimes now have a tangible cost. And.” She points to the coin glued to the floor. “It seems someone has had enough of this money-eating menace, and wishes to catch them in action. Adelpo, for sure.”

Ignera pauses, where in that moment she spares the glued coin a quick glance.

Ignera: "...I do not believe Adelpo would have time for that. Any other guesses?"

Momori: “...............Who would pull such a thing? My mind is blank.” Momori thinks to herself. “Someone that has money, and a strong sense of justice. Lucas?”

Momori is just spitting out names at this point.

Ignera suddenly lets out a short-lived laugh.

Ignera: "Someone that has money? Lucas?"

Ignera: "You're really funny. I like you."

Momori: “Surely he has a single /coin/ to his name! I......! Excuse me, he’s an......adult?!” She sighs.

Ignera l While it is not as loud, Ignera briefly succumbs to a chuckling fit. She has to put her hands over her chest to will it away.

Ignera: "Oh, stop it! You're killing me!"

Ignera: "Anyway," She places bluntly before moving on.

Ignera: "These glued coins... are they spotted in many places around the ship?"

Momori stashes the nugget of information for later. Lucas is dirt poor, may be susceptible to gift giving as a method of loosening his lips. Bribery, in other words. “Yes, anyway.”

Momori: “I’ve only noticed that one.” It’s a lie, she knows exactly where they’ve all been placed, since she was the one to do the deed. But she remains stoic. Momori has a perpetual pokerface.

Ignera: "...huh."

Ignera steps over, giving a curious look down at it.

Ignera: "...you're closer. What citystate face does it have?"

Ignera: "Maybe 'tis a clue."

(Momori) ooh do gil look different based on citystate (Momori) like us quarters (Ignera) yes!! (Ignera) they have the faces of the leaders (Ignera) roe lady. blonde lady. man man. (Momori) old popey for ishgard?? (Ignera) ...MAYBE? they never released artwork for ishgard coins (Ignera) limited edition: murder pope (Momori) oooo...I'm kinda surprised ul'dah coin doesn't have nanamo on it (Ignera) ...honestly it might and my memory fails me?? let me check (Momori) haha i just googled it. the coins look awesome tho!!! i want (Ignera) LORD (Ignera) f in chat for miss nanamo

Momori kneels down to get a good look. “It seems to have some unbelievably old elezen on it.”

Ignera: "...perhaps an unbelievably old elezen glued them all."

Ignera: "I haven't seen Antoine yet. Is he as old as a frog?"

Momori: “An old elezen…” Her mind draws a blank. There wasn’t anyone that old on the Voyage, and, well. The resident ‘old person’ had passed away. “I haven’t seen Antoine in person before, so your guess is as good as mine.”

Ignera: "I am fully willing to pass on this blame unto someone I have never met. How about you?"

Ignera seems ready to shake on it.

Momori: “Let’s not be ageist. Young or old, any and everyone is capable of great mischief.” She pauses, then nods. “But yeah, that sounds good. Antoine. How /could/ he.”

Ignera gives a thumbs up, wholly content. "Perfect! I shall let everyone know immediately."

Ignera takes a step back-- is she leaving?

Ignera: "With you as my witness!"

Ignera: "Thank you very much."

Momori: “Of course.”

Ignera: "Otherwise, we will not discuss the conversation that took place today."

Ignera: "Is that to be understood?"

Momori ponders for a moment. “We should wait before approaching Antoine. I’d like to see the money guzzler to fall for the trap.” All lies. All of it.

Ignera: "Oh, I'm not approaching him."

Ignera: "Like I said: I adore gossip!"

Ignera: "He will know eventually."

Momori: “Aah-ha. Gotcha.” Momori decides she likes Ignera. A fellow agent of chaos. “Spread away!”

Ignera: "Of course!"

Ignera: "Anyway. Keep on... whatever you were doing." Ignera seemed to have already forgotten.

#Momori Mori #ignera arbell #ff14 rp logs #oops forgot to take a screenshot #take these!! pictures of coins instead #safe travels........ #heartless AU