#verse: earth 22 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 16.74 million mobile monthly users in the US.

quotesfromscripture · 2 years

Text

Free from the curse

“And there shall be no more curse [katathema]: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants [douloi autou] shall serve him: and they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads [metopon auton]. And there shall be no night [nyx] there; and they need no candle [photos lychnou], neither light of the sun [photos heliou]; for the Lord God giveth them light [photisei ep’ autous]: and they shall reign for ever and ever [eis tous aionas ton aionon].”

- Revelation 22:3-5 KJV (2022)

And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. (Rev 21:23-24 NRSVA, 1995)

If anyone does not love the Lord, let that person be cursed! Come, Lord! (1 Cor 16:22 NIV, 2011)

And now art thou cursed [epikataratos] from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand [cheiros]. (Gen 4:11 KJV + Septuagint)

Do not bring a detestable [bdelygma] thing into your house or you, like it, will be set apart for destruction [anathema]. Regard it as vile and utterly detest [bdelygmati bdelysse] it, for it is set apart for destruction [anathema]. (Deut 7:26 NIV + Septuagint)

It is you who light my lamp; the LORD, my God, lights up my darkness. (Ps 18:28 NRSVA)

That thou mayest say to the prisoners, Go forth; to them that are in darkness, Shew yourselves. They shall feed in the ways, and their pastures shall be in all high places. They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them. And I will make all my mountains a way, and my highways shall be exalted. (Isa 49:9-11 KJV)

And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising. . . . Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended. Thy people also shall be all righteous: they shall inherit the land for ever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I may be glorified. (Isa 60:3, 20-21 KJV)

Summary - Revelation 22:3-5 is based on Isa 60. John sees in the vision the new city of God, but it is not clear in verses 3-5 if he is being told this description or if he is adding his own narration. The heavenly messenger speaks to John in the following verse, but it doesn’t appear the messenger is speaking here. Either way, humanity is freed from destruction and they get to personally see God’s face! God Himself is the light of the city! The curse, though, from Revelation 22:3 is not the same word the Greeks used for the curse of sin, but a word for giving something over to God to be destroyed. When Noah’s father laments about the curse God has put on them, the Greeks translated the word to katerasato or kataraomai, which is different from the Greek word in Revelation, katathema.

#bible verse #bible study #word study #words of God #promises #prophecy #new earth #the new jerusalem #curses #destruction #rejection #thrones #the face of God #light #sunlight #eternity #revelation 22 #king james version #new international version

4 notes · View notes

cryptotheism · 15 days

Text

I love when modern horror movies do this.

I was watching The Autopsy of Jane Doe. Let's play a game. If a coroner approached me with this symbol, what would I tell him?

Two big flags: That's a woven textile, and those are Roman letters. Most surviving Roman spells were written on stone or metal stele. Roman characters on papyrus practically screams North Africa, 1st-4th century AD.

Given, there is no textile on earth that could survive the stomach acid like this, so I'm assuming something supernatural is happening.

So north Africa, 1-4th century AD. That specific type of circle is clearly remineacent of Solomoic magic. The thing is. Solomonic seals were usually produced in an Egyptian milieu. Authentic North african magical characters usually have little loops on the end, because they're trying to imitate the ankh. Or they look noticably Greek.

Whats interesting to me, is that the symbol inside the circle is more Greek-Pythagorean than Egyptian. It's got that square capped with triangles. That's a neoplatonist sacred geometry thing.

Also, I have the movie paused, but I would bet money those numerals on the edges are supposed to correspond to bible verses. I would bet money one of them is supposed to be EX 22:18.

Which, if that's true, would mean that this isn't 1-4th century, but more like a post-golden-dawn reprint from the 1850s.

Official prediction: This bitch is supposed to be an 1850s American frontier witch. The prop designers get extra points if they want me to think she was part of the Salem witch trials, or some other sensational event like that.

5K notes · View notes

volucerrubidus · 2 years

Text

Open Starter II Metal Verse

The laughter is overwhelming. It is like the grate of claws on steel chains—his claws, perhaps? He is not sure. He can’t remember the last time he was sure of anything.

…Well.

Anything but the laughter.

Because it’s all so funny.

Even being alone, separated from The Bat, from his family. Off the leash, as it were. It is hilarious.

Tim Drake, Robin Crow, is off the leash, is—separated from his family, The Bat—alone. And he is facing an enemy, he thinks. It’s difficult to tell. The brightly-colored ones should have been friends—they should have cawed like him, like Dick and Jason, like all the children that The Bat takes in—but lately, the brightly-colored ones have been hurting him. So, it’s difficult to tell.

“Uh-oh!” he sings, facing down the friend-foe, speaking something other than what thinks is his name for the first time in ages. “Are you going to fight me?”

#{dn metal verse}#[what if i just...... posted this at an insane hour lsjdfkls]#[bc the earworm wouldn't leave my head till i wrote it down]#[feel free to respond even if your character is not in the metal verse]#[he could have dimension hopped; that's very likely in that storyline]#[but i am still reading it so apologies if i've gotten anything wrong]#[as far as i know tho it could be possible for earth 22's tim to have been jokerized/crow'd]#{opens}

1 note · View note

arabellasleopardcoat · 10 months

Text

Last Man On Earth (Aemond Targaryen x reader)

Summary: No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of sex, smut, toxic dynamics. Misuse of biblical verses

A/N: I'm about to make so many people angry.

And to the woman, the Father said:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;

with painful labor you will give birth to children.

Your desire will be for your husband,

and he will rule over you.”

(The Father's Book. 4:22-26)

The letters stopped getting there on your eight and ten name day. Childishly, you waited a few more weeks, telling yourself it must be only a delay. Perhaps the war that went on, or the weather, had detained the ship that carried it. Perhaps your mother had simply forgotten. But deep down, you knew something had to have happened. Rhaenyra Targaryen was not a good woman, perhaps even not a good mother. But she had always remembered your name days.

Your brain refused to believe it, but you knew, deep in your gut, that it was not a mere delay. You had mourned too much already to deceive yourself. Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Daemon, Helaena… The time spent in the Free Cities had served you well, when it came to learning the deep pang of sadness.

First, it had been the death of Luke. Your beloved twin. Then, the loss of your home. Vanished from Dragonstone by your mother, to keep safe. After that, the separation from your half brothers, by then mere babes. It was best, not knowing where they were. If you were captured, it wouldn’t mean the end of Rhaenyra’s line.

Despite the eagerness displayed by both your mother and Daemon to get you out of the Seven Kingdoms, no one had come looking for you very hard. Every once in a while, an overzealous sell sword got lucky, and you had to relocate, yet the occasions seemed to become further and further apart. No one cared enough to keep looking for the only Targaryen unable to claim a dragon, after all these years.

But at the beginning, you had survived on a network of favors. A chain, if you will, set up by your stepfather. First, it had been that friend of his in Pentos, where you posed as his niece, a dark haired, brown-eyed thing no one actually believed came from such a man. Then, you were the daughter of a courtesan in Lys, recently reunited with your mother and with aspirations of becoming a priestess. After that, you had been the cousin of some Lord in Volantis, then a Septa in training in some forgotten convent in Myr. And so on it went. You had perfected the art of shedding names and titles as if they were an old dress. Yet you never claimed to be Valyrian.

Most would think it had been your lack of dragon, the reason for being sent away. It would even be used as an argument against Rhaenyra, in the years to come, “Isn’t she so progressive? But she sent her daughter away because deep down she knows women are not meant for war.” Others would say it was your nature, a meek and shy thing that always faded in the background when your outspoken brothers and cousins were around.

No one would ever guess the real reason. It would mean giving much credit to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the whore. She had realized, a long time ago, that war was brewing. Rhaenyra, much like you, tried lying to herself. But she knew it, deep down. So, when the time came, for her to prepare her heir, the Princess didn’t tell the secret to just Jacaerys. She told Luke and you.

An heir. A spare. A safeguard. And so, you were sent away. When the letter didn’t come, you realized your mission just started. A painfully long journey, hours in the sea. You would think, with how much you had traveled, you would have gotten your sea legs by now. But it seemed even the sea knew the truth about you.

Normally, a Princess would travel with a retinue. Or at least, if she insisted on the lack of formality, her sworn shield. You had not the funds, nor the need for it, anymore. You had left King’s Landing a girl and returned a woman. In your common cloak, and with your dark hair, no one would have ever mistaken you for a Princess.

The ship docked early in the morning, King’s Landing not yet awake. It was a merchant’s ship, filled with spices and a few other passengers. You disembarked in silence, taking in the surrounding city. It shook you to your core. These were not the streets you remembered, filled with people preparing for war. Nor were these the streets your mother talked about, when she reminisced the time when she and Daemon had fallen in love for the first time.

The city was dirty. The stench was much worse than you remembered, and quite different from other capitals you had visited. It smelt coppery and rotten, as if of old blood. At the gates, there was a head on a spike, a cloud of flies so great surrounding it that you had to bat them away to walk.

Silver hair, no eyes, the softest hint of a quirk in the mouth among the rotting flesh. The same one that you often see in the mirror. It was a head you knew well. It was your mother’s.

You tried hard not to gag, and walked past it at a breakneck speed. Careful not to stare. A woman feeling faint at the sight was expected. A woman falling to her knees and bawling her eyes out was treason.

It was hard, after that, to want to help Aegon. The pig had no redeeming qualities. He had been a bad husband to your aunt, an awful commander and a drunk. You had no doubt now he was going to be a poor King. There was, of course, the fact that he had killed your mother and not even granted her the kindness of a Valyrian funeral.

Still, you had to. You had to because the last time you had heard your mother’s voice, you had promised to. Promised that if you ever were captured, the firsts words that you would utter would be those, and not a plea to the Greens for mercy. You wiped at your eyes, harshly brushing the tears away, and put one foot in front of the other. A step. Another. Easier each time.

“This is bigger than we.” Your mother had said, the night you were to depart. Cloaked by the night, a ship was set to sail towards Pentos. Only a cargo of sheep, it declared at the port. Of sheep and a tiny princess, scared out of her mind. “No matter…” She had choked up, the death of your twin still fresh on her mind. In yours. Luke. Your other half, now gone. The possibility of losing the war, before not even a thought on your mind, now a reality. The first loss of many, even if you didn’t know it then. “Aegon’s dream. No matter who wins, in the end. You have to pass it on.”

“You will win, mother.” You had replied, brushing your own tears away. You didn’t know, that evening, that you would see her again, nearly in the same place, lifeless and empty - eyed. “You have to.”

“Oh, my dragon. My sweet dragon.” Rhaenyra had cradled your face in her hands, placing one last kiss to your forehead. “Promise me. You will help them if I die. You will tell. Because it is not about who sits on the Iron Throne now, but when the Song of Ice and Fire will come to pass.”

“Mother…” A sob broke out your throat. “Mother, I can’t. Don’t ask me to betray you like that, not when…”

“You will. You are my daughter. My only daughter. The strongest out of your siblings because you are a Targaryen, but you are also a woman. Your body was made for pain, your spirit to remain unbroken. Remind that, daughter.”

Your ship had sailed away, the figure of your mother getting smaller and smaller on the horizon. But the duty remained at the forefront of your mind for the years to come. And you intended to fulfill it. No matter what.

The state of disarray King’s Landing was in made it easy to sneak into the Keep. Among the mass of beggars and injured, no one noticed a girl making her way through the streets. You snuck in, using a passage Jace had written you about a long time ago. You got in, your presence unknown to the sleeping servants and barely awake guards.

Perhaps it was the fact that it had been Jace, who had taught you how to get in like that. Or maybe it was just a sudden fit of nostalgia. But with the sky barely pink, the Keep strangely empty, you figured there was no danger in visiting the courtyard.

The servants and the Kingsguard had not yet risen. Too early for even the lowliest of servants. Without a second thought, you lowered your hood. The space was vacant, you had dark hair and a common cloak. No one would notice you if you kept your eyes lowered.

The space looked odd, without the sparring men and the flock of admiring ladies. Still, it looked smaller than you remembered. That thought triggered a memory. Jace. Jace had said the same thing, and then he had turned and…

You walked a few steps and pressed your hand to the mark on the wall, eyes closing. A tiny sob escaped you. It was still there. So much had changed, yet the mark on the wall remained. You could picture him, clear as day, hair windswept, eyes sparkling with wonder. Slightly younger than you, sweet. Warm. Yet your hand only found cold stone.

Lost in those thoughts, you didn’t notice the light footsteps approaching you. You only did, when a familiar voice spoke, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“And who…” Before you even had a chance to try to flee, your uncle, the man that you hated the most, was turning you around. Aemond. Now, nothing in your life has been easy. That was probably why you should have expected the first member of the Greens you would encounter to be him. “…Niece?”

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lifted your hands, pushing your hair back, so he could get a good look at your face. You drank him in, familiar, yet so foreign. He no longer wore the eye patch, but the sapphire eye and the scar were as prominent as ever. Responsible for the death of your twin and stepfather, and turned a formidable commander by the end of the war, having been humbled by defeat. Too many, dead by his hand.

Aemond looked startled at the sight, as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost. His face paled, lips stretching into a tense grimace before the mask fell back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

"Uncle Aemond." You lowered your head, feeling clueless about what to say. Here’s the man you have nightmares about. Here’s the face that haunts him so. "How have you been?"

"I had better days.” Aemond took your hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. His eye glittered dangerously, madly. “Walk with me.”

The years had done him good. That much was clear. He had now the look of a man who was used to getting his way, to never being told no. You wondered if sleep proved so elusive to him as it did to you now.

There was almost a pained expression on his face, all sharp angles, that the soft light of sunrise did nothing to light up. Aemond was skinnier than you remembered, taut muscles and dark circles under his eyes adding to his handsomeness. Your uncle had always looked otherworldly, fae like, but now, he looked barely human. Targaryens had always been closer to gods than men, Daemon had used to say. It had never resonated with you in the way it did now.

“You put me into quite the conundrum.” Aemond said, walking you towards the gardens, pace unhurried. He barely dared look at you. You figured, for him, it was more painful. Lucerys must wander his dreams in the same way it did yours, yet you had grown accustomed to seeing the face looking at you in the mirror.

For Aemond, it must be his personal haunting, seeing in you what Luke could have been, had he not cut his thread so early on. You had played that game enough. So many afternoons spent in front of a mirror, watching your reflection get further and further away from what Lucerys had been. So many, thinking that your face was blurring his.

Here’s a secret. Losing a twin is like having a severed limb. An extension of yourself you took for granted and are not, ever, getting back.

Just as you are, Aemond is gathering himself. So, you wait the silence out. You don’t notice the two guards falling into step behind you, when you pass a more transited hallway.

“What is it that you seek? Surely, you don’t intend to rally an army.” He finally asks, and it comes out wrong. Short. Clipped. But not hateful, in the way it used to be, when he crowed Lady Strong in your ear. It feels wrong. Calculated. Like a dragon playing with its food.

“No, Kepa.” You muttered, words sweet, hoping High Valyrian would soothe him. There is something in you telling you to run. Pure, raw instinct, the one we all have. When you see a predator, you run and don’t look back.

Aemond turned towards you, and raised your hood, placing it tenderly over your head. The touch a parent would give to a child. You closed your eyes, delighting in the softness of the touch. You would despise yourself for it later, thinking you had encouraged him. But right now, it has been so long since someone with your same blood touched you. Someone who shares your eyes. For a second, the familiarity makes you think of better days, when both of you were children and Jace and Aegon and him ran around these same halls.

“If you go now, I won’t chase you, little niece. Too much blood has already been spilled for me to wear the Conqueror’s crown. I do not know what prompted you to come here, but I can…” But whatever he was going to say, it was nothing more but static in your ears. You felt like one of the dolls your mother gifted you when you were a child. Head full of wool, limbs weak as if made from string.

His mouth kept moving, lips forming words in a distance. Yet you didn’t hear. Your mind could only fixate on one thing. You stumbled, feet getting tangled in the edge of your dress and cloak, or maybe you were just dizzy with shock. At your sudden move, Aemond’s grip tightened against your arm.

“Niece. Niece.” He muttered urgently, pulling you outwards with such force it would bruise. “You didn’t know, I take it.”

“I didn’t know, Ke… Your Grace.” You dropped into a hurried curtsy, pulse beating loudly in your ears. Your body felt like it was on fire. It explained the changes in him. It made sense, despite your reluctance. Aemond wore the crown well.

“What did you think, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond chuckled, humorlessly, pulling you to your feet. “So it wasn’t defiance, but ignorance. Hardly a worse sin.”

“I thought… Aegon, or his children…” You trailed off, realizing what it actually meant. If Aegon was not wearing the crown his family had fought so hard to place on his head…

“Dead. Aegon killed your mother, but not before she gutted him like a pig.” Aemond shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the topic of discussion. “His hubris killed him, more than Rhaenyra. He dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but didn’t count on her being the truest of them two.” Then, as if realizing what he said, he fell silent. Remembering the time he too had dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but won.

“Experience always trumps, does it not, Your Grace?” You regretted the jab the moment it left your mouth. Aemond let go of your arm, angrily pushing you away. His hand went to his belt. You looked at the sword, hanging there, and felt the urge to retch. Dark Sister. Not only had he killed Daemon, he had taken his sword as a souvenir.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” He said, purple eye burning with anger. His frame towered over you, yet you didn’t flinch. You were the blood of the dragon, as much as he was. More so. Stronger, with an iron will. Because you were half Targaryen, but you were a Targaryen woman. “The blood of Rhaenyra lives on you, contesting my claim to the throne. Despite it, you have marched into my hands willingly. The Seven know with what purpose, byka tolīmorghon. Do you have a death wish?”

“How many dead, Kepa? How many of us left?” You needed to know. Needed because it was essential to your task. No matter how much it hurt.

“None of yours.” Aemond said, and you covered your mouth with your hand, choking back a sob. “None of mine, either. Mother and Helaena… Neither could take it. I rule over ash and bones. The great houses, diminished beyond belief. The dragons… I rue spilling your blood, niece. 'Tis the source of my conflict.”

“I came here to tell you a secret.” You blurt out, before he gets second thoughts. Your eyes keep watch of his sword arm, just because his hand is too close to his belt. It’s not because it makes it easier, not looking at him. At all.

Aemond listens to your story in silence. You tell him all you know, from the blade your mother had said still exists, to the belief your Grandfather and her had in the dream. How he needs heirs, desperately. Anyone, as long as it is his blood.

“I had suspected.” He finally says, shoulders dropping. Aemond looks exhausted. You wonder exactly how heavy the crown is on his head, how much of a burden it is to try to rebuild a country that has been through a civil war and a conquest in less than fifty years. The coffers must be empty, and he speaks of no nobles to tax. To do so on his own… You would go mad. Perhaps he is, already. Too much blood and the latent Targaryen madness, always ready to pounce. It had taken your mother, too.

But there is no one else to rule. You don’t voice those thoughts. You just stare at him, waiting to be dismissed.

“There is no written mention of it, of course. Or else either your stepfather or I would have found out. I have read every book on our history I could get my hands into. I bet Daemon did, too.” And he speaks of it so casually, too. You want to slap him. You can’t. To do so it’s treason. Instead, you curtsy at him, intent on being dismissed, even if you have to prompt him.

He glares. He does not speak a word. You risk a look at his face. Aemond is angrier than you have ever seen. And it’s nothing like it was before the war. It’s a cold thing. A quiet anger, that twists his face into something that reminds you of the portraits of Maegor the Cruel. You take a step back. Then another. Somehow, you know, he will not let you leave these gardens alive. You still try.

“You are the same as your mother.” Aemond said, quietly. You stop, dead in your tracks. “Just as irresponsible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came here, to drop your mess in my lap, and now you intend to leave?” His hand grips at your wrist, painfully tight. Tight enough to bruise. Aemond snarls, baring his teeth.

“What do you want, Your Grace?” Your tone comes out pleading. Scared. Like a dog showing his belly to a more dominant one. You hate it. “Let me go.”

“You think I will let you leave, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond laughs. It sounds… Ugly to hear, all twisted. It holds no humor, only disdain. For the poor, silly little girl who thought she could get away.

“Are you going to kill me?” You take another step back, shrugging off his grip. Someone unsheathes his sword. Startled, your eyes are drawn to the source of the noise. And when his guards started to approach? They are cornering you. You have one on the left and Aemond is taking the right. Your back hits the wall.

“No, you won’t walk away that easily. You are staying, niece.” Aemond pressed closer, cornering you even more. Here was a man pushed past his limits, his eye seemed to say. A sudden thought crossed your mind. He was the King. But there was no mention of a Queen.

“I… No. No, uncle. Let me go, now.” You started struggling, dread pooling in your stomach. Surely, you had misinterpreted his meaning. He could not, not when he prided himself on being a trueborn Targaryen.

Aemond merely smirked. It was clear he had noticed, by your increased panic, that you finally understood. A slap. Skin against skin, both of his hands trapping your wrists now. The sound, so loud to you, so similar to the closing of cuffs. He couldn’t. Not with how much he scoffed at your bastard, dirty blood.

“You have Targaryen’s blood. And I need a wife. Kind. Sweet. Pure.” His grip shifted, now holding both of your wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled you close. You didn’t resist. You just looked at him, helpless. The guards, probably used to seeing much worse from their King, didn’t even flinch. “Strong. To be queen, to give me many heirs.” Aemond nuzzled the top of your hair, hands coming to grasp at your waist, hugging you against him.

“You are insane.” You tried to shrug him off, aware that if you kicked or pushed him too hard, he could have you charged with treason and put to the sword. You didn’t dare fight him in earnest and he knew it. Trapped. He had you cornered.

“Maybe. Maybe. But you are staying. And you know it.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shrieked, as if your skin was crawling at his touch. It was not. You hated it. He was warm and hugging you, and you hadn’t been comforted in so long. None of the guards tried to help you. They didn’t even glance at you.

“That’s not… You can’t, Your Grace, please.”

“You could have sent a raven. Or a pageboy. Yet here you are, pretty little tolīmorghon. Mine to ruin. You will marry me.” You understood, then, what he meant to do. Aemond didn’t even like you. He was going to break you. Just as he was, shouldering the same weight you had tried to push on him.

Aemond was as tortured as he was dutiful. He wanted to drag you into his hell, too. Because it had been unfair, in his eye, that so many of your family had escaped responsibility by death. He was not giving you the chance to do the same.

“Uncle…” You begged, starting to tear up. Aemond released you, roughly. He gestured to a guard, who wordlessly slid into step besides you.

“Go change, niece. That is not proper attire for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” And with a little shove, you were made to march towards your old chambers by his guards.

The Mother blessed them and said to them,

“Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

(The Smith's book. 1:32-36)

“Your Grace.” The maid said, becoming him over. Aemond rose from his seat immediately at the sight of her. Corlys, his hand, remained unbothered and nodded in approval. He, too, felt this matter was more important. Ambition. The death of many good men.

“Ah, Margaret. Has the Queen finally worn herself out?” Aemond asked her, noticing her slightly concerned expression. He wasn’t too worried. No dragon liked chains. A bit of destruction was expected from your sudden captivity.

“Your Grace, I don't think she is fine.” The maid whispered, worriedly.

“Did she hurt herself?” Corlys asked, plainly. Aemond knew he was not truly interested in your condition. You two had no contact, since you were sent out of the Seven Kingdoms, and there was no family resemblance. He only cared that you were able to sit on the throne next to Aemond. And it was fine by him. Corlys could look out for the Velaryon last name, Aemond would look out for you.

“No, she's… sitting there.”

“Crying her eyes out?” Aemond nearly snorted at the question. It was clear your alleged grandfather didn’t know you.

“Staring blankly at the walls.” The maid answered, and at that, Aemond grew slightly concerned. You must be planning something. Better be on guard.

“It's a good sign. She has calmed down.” And as Corlys reassured the maid, Aemond left the room, walking towards your chambers. He made sure to only leave his sword behind, carrying instead a dagger. Least you got ideas. He didn’t fully trust you yet. Slowly, he opened the door, surprised by the amount of destruction you had caused in such a short amount of time.

“What a tantrum, niece.” Aemond spoke, softly, eyeing the torn curtains you had knotted together and were in the process of throwing down the window. The bed was sheetless, you had clearly used those too for your makeshift rope.

“Back off or I will jump.” You warned, still busy with your rope. Aemond shook his head.

“Now, I would say throwing down the table and chairs was overkill. You have frightened your maid.” He slowly advanced, unbuckling his belt. You glared.

“Don’t you dare!”

Aemond nearly laughed. He was the King and here were you, a tiny slip of a girl, trying to tell him what to do. Your eyes darted nervously towards the window. He knew as well what you were thinking. It was a big fall.

“Helaena jumped out of one of those.” He got even closer, and tugged the makeshift rope out of your hands. You let go of it easily, too distressed to really think. “I’ll not make the same mistake as Aegon.”

He would not. You were not escaping this. It must be fate, what else? Out of all the people, you were the secret keeper. Sister to Lucerys. The last of your line. Aemond was the last of his, too. The two last true Targaryens, out of all.

Aemond liked the symmetry of it all, he had realized. There was something about it being the death of your twin what started the war, and your marriage ending once for all the division in the Kingdoms. Life and death, both by his hands. You would eventually give him a son. He was no dreamer, but he could feel it. And when his son finally took the throne, a perfect mix of Greens and Blacks, all wounds would be healed. That would be Aemond’s legacy. Finally mending things.

It was not all, though. It was a form of penance, too. A way of never letting him forget, through the rot of it all, that it had all been his fault. In his mind’s eye, he could see you growing older, next to him. And for every line that appeared on your face or neck, Aemond would wonder if that’s how Lucerys would have looked.

Aemond moved even closer. You slapped him, uncaring of the consequences. What a fierce little thing you had grown into. Hot headed. Not very queenly. Aemond pursed his lips and shook his head, taking the slap without complaint. You were entitled to your rage, having the moral high ground. Your hands were not stained like his. But he couldn’t stand for you escaping. He needed you.

So when you tried to duck around him, Aemond pounced. It was not that he was very convinced of the dream. He had a distaste for dreamers, even if Helaena had been one. They often spoke in riddles, never saying what they meant. For all you knew, Aegon’s dream could have been a metaphor for some other event and not a great threat. But you were his path to redemption.

So many nights he had spent on his knees, at the beginning of the war. Praying for a sign, or a chance to fix things. To fix what he had broken. Along the way, he had lost faith. Perhaps the Seven didn’t listen to him, for his soul was already tainted. Perhaps, all the death around him was a punishment for all his faults. And then you showed up. His byka tolīmorghon. His little ghost.

What was he supposed to think, besides that you were the answer to his prayers? After all, he had been favored by the Gods, or so everyone said. It was the Seven, who gave him the Iron Throne. It was his godly given right to rule. Surely, your return was a sign.

You didn’t even make it to the door. Aemond grabbed you by the hair, dark strands curling around his fingers as if rings. How fitting.

You were shrieking something, but he was not really paying attention. It was probably a cry for mercy or insults. He was not too worried about it. Aemond was more concerned about restraining you, else you try to hurt yourself. You had little to lose, after all, and were stubborn enough for it. Oh, he could feel the headache starting.

He needed you. And you thought you needed him. It was easier than it looked. You two could collaborate. The Seven knew he required all the help he could get, with ruling a country that was more ashes and corpses than real people. You could not exactly get Targaryen heirs without a Targaryen husband, and apart from the lost babes, there was simply no one else around.

“Why must you vex me so, tolīmorghon?” Aemond marched you toward the vanity, dragging you by the hair. He threw everything that was on top of it away with a dismissive gesture, and slammed your chest down on it, careful not to slam your head in the process. “You always make everything difficult.”

His grip shifted, from your hair to the back of your neck, making sure to keep you down. You whimpered. The slam had clearly scared you. Good, Aemond thought. Perhaps a little fear would make you listen.

With ruthless efficiency, he had tugged your wrists behind your back, kicking your legs open without a second thought. Tying his belt around your wrists had been easier, once you started to cry. It was clear the consequences of your actions were starting to sink in and that you had no much fight left.

“Not so eloquent now, niece?” Aemond couldn’t resist but taunt, pulling you to your feet. The motions were practiced. He tried not to think from where he had acquired that knowledge.

“Fuck you, kinslayer.” You screamed. Aemond laughed. It seemed you had fight left, then. A shame the insult was not very good. The moniker didn’t hold the weight it once had, after the war. Half of the Targaryens had turned into kinslayers by the end of it.

“Oh, if you only knew.” He grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, no doubt one of the ones that had fallen from his purge of the vanity, and held it in front of your face. “Open up.” He demanded.

You glared and turned your head away. Aemond pinched at your nose. You, ridiculous little thing, held your breath until you started to go red. There were tears on your cheeks, and your lips were turning an alarming shade of purple. Aemond idly wondered if it was from the lack of air or how hard you were pressing them together.

“You do realize you either open up or you pass out, and I gag you anyway, right?” He arched an eyebrow.

You opened up, finally, spluttering and coughing. A shame he stuck the cloth inside your mouth just then.

“Now.” Aemond ordered, full of the confidence only ruling could give. “I will speak and you will listen. Do you understand?”

The cloth muffled your scream.

Women. So tiresome. Aemond rolled his eye, waiting until you tired of the dramatics. Your stubbornness was admirable, in truth. Like a carriage wreck, he couldn’t stop looking at how you worked yourself up. You were both screaming and bawling your eyes out at the same time. After a few minutes of ceaseless struggle, you slumped down, sweaty from the exertion.

“You will bathe after this, of course. I can’t have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms walking around like that.” He finally offered, amused. “I will not hurt you, little fool. This marriage will help unite the Kingdoms again.”

You stared blankly. Aemond nodded, guessing it was a bit unfair to wait for your input.

“You see. There is still division between Blacks and Green. Were you able to produce a child, both claims would rally behind him.”

This time, you seemed slightly more frightening. Probably at the prospect of laying with him, which, fair. He had not had such a good first experience either, and it had taken him quite a long time with Alys to even try again. Aemond guessed it was likely more frightening, as a woman. It didn’t matter whether your body responded or not, it was happening anyway.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, softly, and grabbed at another handkerchief to clean your face. He kneeled in front of you, despite your panicked attempts to pull back, and softly dabbed at your wet cheeks. “I think two years is a prudent time to get you to give yourself up to me. I would give you a lifetime if I could. But we are not getting any younger, and I need an heir.”

You tilted your head to the side, as if questioning. You were rather puppy-like. It reminded him of your twin even more. Aemond gave you a sad smile.

“You were insistent on getting heirs made, if I understood correctly. I think we can manage to raise children that will not slaughter each other.”

A scoff. Aemond wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth next. Quite undignified, really. Oh, if his mother was watching him from above, she would be laughing at his expense. He had had to learn the art of cooperation the hard way, but it had proved fruitful in getting his ends. Much more than all the anger he held in his youth.

“How hard can it be?”

Your glare was his only answer. Aemond knew he was slowly getting through you. Perhaps a little more kindness? Empathy? What a foreign thing. He had not exercised that much, in the last few years. Ruthlessness was what had given him the throne. But he was willing to try, to get what he wanted.

“You have a point there. Well. I will not treat you badly. I will be a kind husband to you. You will rule by my side.”

This time, your look shifted from distrust to disbelief.

“Funny thing, isn’t it? Neither of us were meant to get the throne, yet…” Aemond shook his head, and softened his tone. He knew just the words to make you budge. “I need your help, if we are going to pull this off. You must truly believe in that dream, if you risked coming here.”

A nod. He had you. Aemond tried not to smirk, knowing it could undo all his work at gaining your collaboration.

“Can I trust our agreement, then, and take the gag off?”

You nodded again. He pulled the cloth off, careful not to hurt your mouth.

“If you are good, I will untie you next.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pious man?” It was a curious thing, that that was the first sentence you chose to say. Still, Aemond didn’t want to break the fragile trust that was forming between the two of you, and so he decided to indulge you.

“I’m not certain, anymore.” He answered, carefully. It was the truth. He had been so sure, once, that the Seven guided his steps. That the Crone lit up the right path for him to take, that the Father led him to fair decisions. It had all shattered when the Stranger had entered your lives.

Yet here you were. A gift, from the Maiden herself. A Queen, for a King who had nothing. Much like she had done for Hugor of the Hill.

“Isn’t there something on the Seven Pointed Star about this?”

“There is also something about attempting on one’s own life.” Aemond glared at you, pushing your chin up with a finger to take a good look at your eyes. He was deeply displeased by your threat, even if it was an empty one. It had rattled him, the reminder of Helaena. “Any attempts on your life will be dealt with swiftly.”

Aemond couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t see Luke fall to his death again. Even if it meant locking all the windows in the Keep, and taking away all the knives. Or keeping you tied with silk ropes. Whatever that was necessary.

“You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

“Oh, it won't hurt you. Too much.” And it was the truth. He had learned quite a few interesting methods of discipline, while he traveled to different settlements during the war. Aemond was willing to practice them on you, if it meant you stayed by his side.

And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

(The Mother's book. 12: 22-23)

It was an odd feeling. Getting ready for your wedding in your mother's chambers. Much to the King's displeasure, none of your old gowns fitted you. He had offered to get you new ones, but after seeing that Aemond had kept most of the rooms in the Keep untouched, you had chosen to wear one of your mother's.

It still smelt like her. Entering the room felt like time had stopped. Everything was exactly as it had been, except there was no Rhaenyra sitting on the couch.

You opened the chest of gowns, placing it carefully on the rug. At your back, Ser Willis cleared his throat. With an annoyed noise, you stepped back.

“Do not be angry, my Queen.” The Kingsguard said, as he opened the trunk and efficiently took away all the bottles and pointy objects he could find. “The King does this with your welfare in mind.”

After the incident at your old chambers, you had been moved into Aemond's personal ones. He was never there, after all, being an insomniac and a workaholic. But his had the great advantage of being near the ground floor.

Your behavior had allowed you to graduate from bound wrists and a gag to a constant shadow. Willis Fell had been tasked with your protection from all threats on your life, including yourself.

“I didn't really mean to attempt on my life!” You said, frustrated. “And do not call me Queen, I'm a Princess in my own right.”

“To a claim that no longer exists, your Grace.” The man repeated, cheerfully. “It matters not who you were, but who you are now. If King Aemond says you are to be called Queen, then you are.”

You huffed, angrily, and ignored him, quickly picking two gowns. Aemond had demanded they were in the Blacks' colors and not the Velaryons. It had brought great displeasure to the Lord Hand. Your grandfather had wanted to see you enter the Sept in his colors. He would have to conform with handing you to Aemond.

Corlys Velaryon made you have mixed feelings. On one side, there was the fact that he had changed sides faster than one could change cloaks, after your mother was dead. On the bright side, he was the only ally you had in court. The only person willing to oppose Aemond for your sake.

It was a curious choice, on Aemond's part, to keep him so close. It was a good show of unity and forgiveness, a proof of the noble heart of the King. Or maybe it was because he had control over other, low-level threats to his throne. You had heard Rhaena and Baela had survived the war. They had already confirmed their attendance to the joyous occasion, but you were not allowed to meet them alone. You would have to wait until tonight, when the feast took place, or even tomorrow, at the wedding.

“What do you think, Ser Willis?” You showed the man two gowns, one crimson red and one black. “I do not think black is proper for a wedding, but wearing two crimson gowns seems too much. Perhaps… The black one at the feast?”

"I think this one is a bit…” The knight trailed off, and you looked at it closely. He was right. It was the dress of a matron, too dark-colored for a wedding, too grown up for you. Your mother had worn it the night that your uncle made his toast. Gods, you had all been so young. You remembered how beautiful she had looked in it. “What about the dress your mother wore for her own wedding? It is still there. I saw it.”

You lifted some dresses, searching for a light colored one. A beautiful gown of white and gold, one you had discarded because it didn’t fit the criteria Aemond had set, and its significance was lost on you. You didn’t know that had been your mother’s wedding dress. Rhaenyra at eighteen had been a petite woman. You clutched at it, wondering if it would even fit you. It could probably be adjusted, or copied.

“Thank you, Ser Willis.” It didn’t hurt to be polite with the man. He had been on Aegon’s side, and had been quite outspoken with his disapproval of your mother and Daemon. But he was only doing his job. Aemond was the one who had ordered you not to be left alone at any time. Sometimes, you were grateful for it. It helped ward off your loneliness. Other times, it got suffocating.

“A pleasure, my Queen. The King will not be able to keep his eye off you. A good match, you are.” He offered, smiling at you. You had learned he seemed to thrive on courtly manners.

You gave him a sad smile and passed him the dresses to carry. As you walked, you noticed it was starting to get late.

“May we ask for the maid? Margaret? I wish to change for the feast.” Your guard nodded, and repeated the order to the guard outside Aemond’s chambers.

Margaret was the one that had the duty to guard you when you were doing womanly things. It was a good system, you had to give it to Aemond. He had thought of everything. It gave time for Ser Willis to rest and eat, and it gave you slightly more privacy and a companion.

You despised his thoughtfulness. You didn’t want to like him. He had murdered your twin, after all. But your mother had murdered Aegon, even if in self-defense, and ordered the murder of one of Helaena’s kids. Children. There seemed to be no morals in any of the sides.

After your forced truce, you had seen little of Aemond. He had slowly given back your freedom, in the two weeks he had had you by his side. The planning of a royal wedding in such little time kept you busy. You never wanted Alicent, in your life, but you found yourself longing for her. It was hard, after a life of exile, to remind all the stuffy rules of courtesy in the Seven Kingdoms. Alicent had been great at even, much more than your mother and Daemon.

At first, you had been constantly on edge, as if you were waiting for the executioner’s sword to fall on your neck at any time. But the more the wedding approached, the more you realized Aemond had no devious plan to lull you into a false sense of safety and then kill you. His only devious plan was marrying you and giving you half the responsibilities of running the Red Keep.

Slowly, he had been piling them on you. The better you behaved, the more you were trusted to oversee. It was not the incentive he probably thought it was, but it kept you busy. It was you, who had to supervise the servants and manage the finances, now. You were consulted on what should be served at feasts, asked about settling arguments. Aemond’s wife in anything but name, the acting Lady of the Red Keep. Soon, noble children would be sent here, and it would be your responsibility to mind their education.

It was an adjustment. Making sure there was sufficient in the stores was hard, as it was monitoring where all the money went. It was not like being the wife of any lord because your finances impacted on those of the Kingdom. It had brought you closer to the servants, asking for advice on how to do your duty properly. And it had allowed you to learn quite a few things about Aemond.

One. He was an insomniac. He went to bed late, when you were already asleep, and left after only four hours, five at most. Aemond might be sharing your bed, but you never saw him. He disliked the dark, too. He used more candles on his nightly walks than you did in a week.

Two, he forgot to eat often. Aemond was an overall workaholic, and thought everyone was, too. Frequently, his meetings would drag on and on, and he would skip lunch. It was a comical sight, when he was with the small council. The lords, the Hand included, would flock out of the room as soon as they were dismissed. Then, in a very undignified manner, they would dilapidate the kitchen, messing up your tracking of the stores.

Third, he had taken a liking to poetry. It had greatly perplexed you, when you found that your household now included two poets. You had grown used to minding them too, and tolerating their strange ways.

Margaret entered silently, placing a bucket of water in a corner. You took your hair down and started to brush it, hurriedly. Margaret went to attend to the clothes you would wear to give you privacy to bathe. When all the painstakingly process of getting a Queen ready was done, you exited Aemond’s chambers and ran right into him.

He was already dressed for the feast, wearing a rich black doublet, the Conqueror’s crown on his head. His long silver hair was held back in a half updo, much simpler than what your father used to wear. Still, he looked regal.

“Ah, niece. I see you are ready.” Aemond offered his arm, gently. Careful not to move abruptly, less he spooked you. “Shall we?”

You take his arm, fighting the impulse to flinch in disgust. Your brother’s killer! The thought echoes around your head. But also, the last Targaryen standing. You need to get used to it, you promised your mother you would not allow the Song of Ice and Fire to ruin Westeros. Targaryens have to multiply. If it meant carrying his child, then so be it.

Aemond says nothing. He seems amused by your internal conflict. You will be his Queen, soon enough. His touch has to stop surprising you. It could be much worse. Aemond could have killed you, or kept you locked up. Instead, he has offered something very generous.

The hall looks exactly as when you left. The faces, though, are changed. Despite the houses' colors and sigils being the same, you don't recognize anyone but the Hand. There is also Tyland Lannister, who you know sits on the small council. Or you hope it's him. You were never able to tell the Lannisters apart.

Most of the crowd gasps when you and Aemond enter the hall. The dress was a statement, one that was not seen in quite a few years. Red and black, and previously worn by Rhaenyra, it made clear where you had stood.

“...So he is going through it…?”

“Look at her, the bastard daughter of that whore…”

“Wasn't he engaged to a Baratheon?”

“... Worse than Maegor, the bitch… Taxes through the skies…”

“She is his niece!”

You braved the whispers, clinging to Aemond's arm. Idly, you considered running away. Far from all this nonsense and back to the Free Cities. It was too much, hearing these people call your mother a whore and the second coming of Maegor, when her head was still on a spike, and they sat here, plump and rosy from the good life.

You knew Rhaenyra's reign had not turned out well. And that whatever her and Daemon had been up to, it had driven her mad in the end. She had executed and murdered many, and been a poor ruler, blinded by panic. But she was still your mother. A human being. A Queen. Whose head hung on the city's gates as you were made to marry her replacement.

When you finally made it to the table, Aemond pulled your chair out for you, and pressed his palm against your back. A warning. You didn't know how, but he could tell what you were thinking. He would not tolerate any kind of scene from you, he had stated. Nothing that made him look weak, or you would regret it.

“Good evening.” Aemond said, remaining standing behind your chair. It was an odd position to choose while addressing his subjects, but it was one that showed his power over you. “I thank you all for coming to witness such… Joyous occasion.” He smirked, squeezing your shoulder. You couldn't fight the slight dropping of your fake smile.

“Tomorrow, the division between the Blacks and Greens will finally be over. And it's all thanks to this wonderful woman.” Aemond took your hand and raised it to his lips. He certainly knew how to put on a show for the masses. When you were children, he had been much less charming, although he had had his moments of political savviness. The engagement to the Baratheons, for example. His taste for the dramatic, unfortunately, had always been there. Take that awful speech, for example.

His lips were cold against your skin. You shuddered.

"A toast." He said, looking directly into your eyes. The perfect picture of the dutiful fiancée. You glared, but gave him an even brighter smile. You disliked being made a show. “To my niece. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The crowd cheered. Aemond sat down next to you, prompting the servants to start serving the food. You didn't speak a word. It was the first time you ate together after two weeks of sharing the same chambers.

You poured him wine, noticing your grandfather's expectant eyes on you. The conversation on the table was stilted. The King didn't care much for noise, so the council spoke quietly and formally. None thought to include you.

"Thank you." Aemond said, and placed a few cuts of meat on your plate.”When you finish dinner, I will be expected to socialize. You are welcome, but not forced to do the same.”

“Are Rhaena and Baela here?” You looked at him, eagerly. They were the only people you were excited to see.

“We have agreed it would be best if you saw them tomorrow, after the wedding.” Corlys interjected, smoothly. Aemond grunted. Ah, how cunning of the Hand. To meet your once sisters-in-law to be after you couldn't escape.

“I understand. Well. I think I will enjoy the company of your council, Your Grace.” Your tone was polite, but firm. No room for argument. All these stuffy lords, eager to go spend money in the brothels, were now stuck in your company. It surely wasn't winning Corlys any friends.

You smirked. Aemond finished eating, and with a kiss to your crown that was all for show, departed.

At first, you made conversation with the Grand Maester, about the latest book releases and how the war had nearly killed the industry.

"Not enough people want to read, your Grace. Terrible. I do hope, when we open the Red Keep to children again, you will teach them the importance…"

"I think that's enough." Corlys said, offering you his hand. "I think you owe this old man a dance, granddaughter." And he couldn’t lose the chance to lord his relationship with you all over the rest of the lords. It would be simply too much to ask. He was still the same ambitious man he had been back then, when you didn’t really know he was not your grand sire.

"Of course." You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into a polite dance. Your grandfather was a graceful, still a handsome man. You could see what Princess Rhaenys had seen in him, once.

“I do not begrudge you, Your Grace.” Corlys said, as he twirled you.

“Begrudge me?” You asked, once he had pulled you in once again.

“You and I know your father was not going to sire children in any other way. He loved Jacaerys, Lucerys and you like you were his own.” He whispered, quickly. Your smile froze. Was he really…? “Joffrey more so, since he got to pick his name” Corlys teased and you relaxed. He was offering you his support, and you were not fool enough to refuse him. Despite not knowing his motives.

“I… You shouldn’t.”

“I know. Your future husband would have my head. But know that you are Laenor’s daughter in all the ways that matter." Corlys gave you a polite little bow, as the song ended. His parting words left you more shaken than you wanted to admit. "And that come fifty years down the line, no one will remember what you looked like, or who sired you. They will only remember your maiden name, Velaryon, and your husband’s."

You were alone in the middle of the dance floor, too stunned to even speak. So that was his motivation. The Velaryon name, on the Iron Throne. The accounts later would call you the granddaughter of the Lord Hand, much like Queen Alicent had been the daughter of Otto.

A new song started. The crowd started to dance again, pushing at you. Immediately, Ser Willis started to make his way towards you. His ever vigilant eye never lost anything. Deciding to make his job easier, you walked towards a less crowded corner, so he could reach you. But as you waited, another man approached.

“Lady Velaryon.” The man dropped into a bow, so deep it might as well be kissing the floor. A Stark, by the sigil on his cloak. Quite handsome too. He was around Aemond’s age, but looked much friendlier. You jolted your memory. Jacaerys had mentioned a Stark in his letters. "You look just like your brother."

"Cregan Stark?" You asked. At his nod, you gave him a small curtsy. “Lord Stark, pleased to meet you.”

Ser Willis, still far away, touched the shoulder of another Kingsguard. They both crept closer.

"Are you safe?" Cregan grasped your hands in his, in quite a bold move. To touch the King’s betrothed, it was an offense that could be punishable by death if Aemond so chose. And none of the people gathered in the hall would blame him for it. Daemon had killed men for much less, and so had your mother. Targaryens weren’t rational, when they thought someone to be theirs.

Cregan’s words were spoken in a hushed tone, but not enough for your guards not to hear. You gave them a nervous look.

"Yes." You answered to Cregan, hoping it was convincing enough that he wouldn’t try some foolish plan to liberate you, when in fact, you hardly needed one. Your agreement with Aemond was enough. You truly had nowhere to go, you were tired of running, and you were fulfilling your mission. It was your mother’s will. She had said at any cost. You won’t disappoint. If Cregan Stark wanted to take you away from your only purpose, he would have to drag you away, kicking and screaming.

“You don't have to marry him, my lady. The North would back you, you could have an army.” Your smile froze. Those were dangerous words, no matter how low they were muttered. Treacherous. Was everyone in this feast intent on getting killed?

“I am marrying him because it is my duty.” You squeezed his hands, hoping he would get the message. Ser Willis stepped closer to you, ready to intervene. The other guard went away, surely to look for reinforcements.

“Is it, to marry your family's killer? My lady, there is no need…”

“There is something stronger, binding the King and me.” You interrupted, firm but polite. Why didn’t he get the hint? A pair of arms snaked around your waist. So the guard had not gone looking for reinforcements, but Aemond. You relaxed into his hold, knowing he wouldn’t let Cregan Stark take you away and try to save you from yourself.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, the cold crown he wore bumping against your head. You were not a small woman, but he had to lean down to be able to kiss you. By the look on Lord Stark’s face, it didn’t make him less intimidating in the least.

"Ah, Lord Cregan. How good it is to see you.” His voice was mocking, taunting. “What are you doing with my betrothed?”

“I… Your Grace.” The Stark flustered, helplessly looking at you to save him. You gave him a cold look, knowing that if you intervened, Aemond could take it as a show of favor towards the man. Not only would it doom him more, but it would also get you punished. You didn’t fancy walking into your wedding with bound wrists.

“Surely not convincing her to run away?”

“I…” Your eyes closed, trying not to think of the destiny of this man who tried to help you and now was going to have a bloody ending for his troubles.

“I know many men would want a wife like her.” His grip turned slightly more possessive, hands digging into the bodice of your dress. Insinuating something. Painting a nice picture for Cregan Stark. “You were recently widowed, were you not?” Dismissive. A power play. One of his favorite things.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Beautiful. Learned. Strong.” Aemond hooked his chin over your shoulder, smiling at the other man. As if you were nothing more than a prize to be won. But the nickname was too much. You lean back, and stomped on his foot. Aemond made a gurgling, pained sound. The Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comments. He surely was thinking about how he had misread the situation.

Cregan Stark would never understand it. He was a good, honorable man. And you and Aemond were everything but. He was tainted by war, you were tainted for rolling in the mud with him. Both dishonorable, both self-interested. Both lying to yourselves, telling you were doing this for the greater good.

Targaryen blood called to each other like moths to a flame. Slowly, you stumbled into each other's arms, thinking yourselves the last man and woman on earth. You were not. If you were to have a child with any other man, those children would still be Targaryens.More so if Aemond had children with another woman. Perhaps, it would even be more useful, producing more children. Neither of you voiced it.

It was an excuse, the Song of Ice and Fire. But a useful one, for both of you.

"Worry not, wolf. I know a woman like her is enough to lead any man to insanity.” Aemond squeezed your hip, and you knew, the snide little remark was not for Cregan but for you. “I will take your words as they are, nothing more than courtly love and deep admiration for my niece.”

“Cursed is the ground because of you;

through painful toil you will eat food from it

all the days of your life.

It will produce thorns and thistles for you,

and you will eat the plants of the field.”

(The Father's book 5:12-16)

It was a strange sight. In the Velaryon’s cloak, all dark hair and eyes. It was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, the truth of your heritage. Yet none of those who stood in the Sept dared say a word.

The good thing about being King? The truth was what he said it was. Aemond suddenly understood his father more and more. Viserys had chosen to deny the truth until the bitter end, and there was nothing that could be done about it. As long as the King protected you, bastard or not, you were safe.

Aemond wondered if you realized the amount of trust you were placing in him. Should his Hand decide to deny your heritage, it was only Aemond’s word that shielded you from being put to the sword. Still, if the choice was between you and Corlys Velaryon, Aemond already knew who he would pick.

You had not opposed him. You had not installed a maritime block on the Seven Kingdoms, making the common folk suffer from the lack of food for not declaring for Rhaenyra. You had not switched sides.

As you approached, on the arm of the same man that he was currently plotting to kill on your behalf, Aemond was a little dumbfounded by how beautiful you were. When he had first seen you, all grown up, he had thought you pretty. A sufficient distraction to curb his loneliness. Now he knew, you were not pretty. You were otherworldly.

You didn’t look anything like a true Valyrian. Your beauty was not the same as the one his cousins had. He had been foolish, thinking that your darker features put a damper on your beauty. The sun kissed skin, the enchanting eyes… It only added to your charm. It had taken him two weeks to realize it, and it was a shame. You were more than just a projection of Lucerys he could use to torture himself.

When the time came, Aemond draped his cloak over you, placing you back under the Targaryen’s red and black. He couldn’t help but give you a smug smile. You looked good on his house’s colors. Better. Like you belonged in them. It didn’t matter, that you had come out of the womb with a strong resemblance to Rhaenyra’s sworn shield. You were half Targaryen, and as far Aemond was concerned, that was the half that mattered.

Velaryons. What a joke. Who wanted Velaryons, when they were too ambitious for their own good? When they were unable to bring children into the world safely? No, he decided. You made the perfect Queen because you were not a Velaryon. You had performed every task he had set for you perfectly. Born to rule.

The wedding passed in a blur. It felt as if he barely blinked and suddenly, you were both saying your vows and were being hand fasted together.

“Wife.” You turned towards him, all wide dark eyes. Slightly scared. He leaned down, and whispered in your ear, to warn you. “I’m going to kiss you, then we will retire for the night.”

“But Rhaena and Baela…” You started to protest, but Aemond leaned down and kissed you. It was only a peck, a brush of the lips. It was enough to quiet you. You shyly looked down, the image of a sweet maiden. The lords clapped, politely.

There would be no Rhaena and Baela. He was already thinking of a way to take Corlys out of the equation in case he ever became an obstacle. It would do not good, if you were too attached to the girls, and he had to kill their grandfather.

“You can see them tomorrow, tolīmorghon.” Aemond took your tiny hand in his. You were cold and sweaty in his grasp. Anxious. He nearly smirked. You would grow out of it, he was sure. Aemond was already ruining you, and you didn’t even realize, too worried by the others. He had seen how you didn’t jump to Cregan’s aid.

“But… The guests… The feast…”

“I will keep my promise, if that is what worries you.” Aemond tucked a soft strand of hair behind your ear. Careful, careful, to sound teasing and not like he resented it. “But since I do not get to bed my wife, I want to at least get to spend the night with her.”

“You have been spending the nights with me.” You muttered to him. He almost laughed. Clueless thing that you were, to think your nights were spent with him.

Aemond started leading you away from the guests, and towards his chambers. He was eagerly awaiting to watch you sleep. A thing he missed from before the war was the ability to get a full night of sleep, but Aemond betted watching you do it would be nice. Your face held still childlike innocence, and most probably perpetually would. It was that damn combination, of Harwin’s puppy eyes and being shielded from war. Asleep, you would surely look like an angel.

He liked your purity, compared to other ladies of the realm. You had known of the horrors of war, but you hadn’t actually seen it. Sometimes, he thought he had chosen to keep you because of it. You didn’t know what kind of monster Aemond really was. How much blood stained his hands.

You knew he had killed Lucerys, you knew he had taken Harrenhall. You didn’t know he had executed all the men there, children and elderly included. You knew he had killed Daemon, you didn’t know exactly how many times he had stabbed him, until both Caraxes and Vhagar were both plunging to their deaths. You knew he was a killer. You didn’t know sometimes he didn’t regret it.

“I have spent nights with you?” He asked, amused. Most women would be terrified to share his bed. Not you, apparently, if you had thought Aemond was sleeping by your side already and had made no fuzz.

“Where are you sleeping, then?” You opened the door to his chambers, already used to the creaking hinges. As if those had been your chambers your whole life. “I thought…”

“I have been sleeping on my study.” So you went to bed every night and fell asleep thinking he would later join you? It was cute. Perhaps keeping you would be easier than he thought. Aemond was halfway there already. “It wouldn’t have been proper, otherwise.”

“And you are all about property.” He ignored your taunt, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The satisfaction he felt was too high to be bothered. Not only did he had you already, but you had slowly started to trust him.

You wanted to stay. The state of his rooms showed it. He was a tidy man, and liked to keep his rooms the same way. Still, there was something enchanting about the way you had taken possession of the place during the past two weeks. Your gown, placed over the bed, surely by your maid. A few books on the left side of the bed, that were definitely not his. A tiny pair of slippers just next to the fire.

Aemond nudged you towards the armchair. You sat down without complaint, looking at him with curious dark eyes. He kneeled in front of you and helped take off your shoes, placing the slippers on your feet instead. The skin of your ankles was soft and vulnerable. He gave it a gentle rub before sitting back on his haunches.

“I brought you here because I have something to tell you.” Still on his knees, worshiping another effigy. Aemond liked the parallels of it. So many nights, spent asking for forgiveness at a Sept. More nights, he would spend at your feet, begging for atonement to his own personal goddess.

“Why are you on your knees?” You asked, looking down at him, eyes so sweet and pure, not even the Maiden herself could compare. How many nights, would it take? How much time, until you became a sinner like himself? “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Aemond cleared his throat. He looked up at you, suddenly feeling fear choking him. Expiation was not an easy thing. The High Septon himself had said, before spluttering some nonsense about how if he wore the Crown, it was by the grace of the Seven and their favor. Not because he had been the last one standing in a pit of gladiators fighting to death. Not because he had been the only one not to drown in the rivers of blood that followed.

The thought of ruining your innocence, turning you like him, was a thought that warmed him and filled him with dread. After it, Aemond would never be alone again. You would be just like him, broken, ruined, dirty. You would never leave his side because you would understand there was no other place for you but by his side. And just as he did, you would love him and hate him in equal amounts.

But you were so pure. Filled with good intentions and loyalty. Sweet. A balm to his wounds. It would be lost when you turned like him. The one good thing he had found for himself, broken beyond repair.

The silence went on and on. Aemond finally broke it, by speaking in a tone so soft, you might not even be able to hear. Confessing.

“I didn’t kill Luke on purpose. It was…”

A twitch of your mouth. The Maiden come to life, growing impatient. Eyes cold, as if they could erase him from existence.

You would not like this truth. It had all been for nothing. The death of your twin, the war… It was never meant to happen. A foolish mistake. If he had truly meant to kill the boy, perhaps this mess would make some sense. Frame it as a war between bitter enemies, and not family, with combatants that were barely out of childhood.

Or children themselves. Like Lucerys and you had been.

“It was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar. I shouldn’t have, and I despise myself for it, every day. I wish I had never…”

Never chased after him. Never set Vhagar on the smaller dragon. Because back then, he had not been a bad man. That morning, Aemond had been happy. Celebrating an engagement that brought honor to his house. He had not rolled out of bed thinking of killing a child. How few hours of innocence he had left.

No one had told Lucerys how few hours of life he had left, either.

A sob. Aemond can’t tell if he voiced all of that, but by your horrified look, he has. It feels like being stabbed in the eye all over again. Worse than Daemon nearly taking his head off.

It takes him a while to recognize the feeling that curls around his stomach, makes him want to throw up, as your gentle hand presses over his head, prompting him to rest it on your lap.

As you said the words he so craved to hear, he finally got it.

“I forgive you.” But could you, really, when you didn't know what you were forgiving him for?

Shame. It’s shame, the feeling in his stomach. He had not felt it in a long time.

Shame, for what he had done to wear this dammed crown. Shame, for killing Luke. Shame, for what he was about to do to you.

The months go by. You start sleeping on the same bed. Rigid. Side by side, as if children. Slowly, your bodies start to curl against each other. Aemond, always awake before you do, wonders if you realize. He moves away before you wake, but your body always seems to search for him when you sleep.

It’s a cold marriage. One of duty, or so the rest of Westeros thinks. Even the Lord Hand is fooled by it. Aemond has heard the maids whisper about it, about the poor, pretty Queen, trapped into marriage to a monster. Wasting her beauty and sweetness on a man who doesn’t see her.

As a team, you work well. Outside your chambers, your relationships and interactions are extremely polite. The Seven Kingdoms have never been more prosperous than under your combined rule. Aemond is pleased with his legacy. Give it a few more years, if he doesn’t ruin anything, and he will go down in history not as a kinslayer but as the bringer of the golden age of Westeros. The arts prosper, the people are educated and well-fed, the crime rate is low.

“What a dreadfully boring marriage.”

“Duty. Only that. I would go mad, if my husband never touched me.”

“Do you think the King is like Ser Laenor?”

Aemond doesn’t mind, if they think his marriage is colder than the North beyond the Wall. He knows the truth.

There are nights, where you wake up desperate, a scream in your throat. Sometimes, you scream at him, you say you hate him. In others, you sob yourself into a meltdown, saying you hate yourself.

It’s always the same, on nights like that. He holds you in his arms, until you stop fighting. Overcome by hysterics, it’s you who searches for his mouth. You kiss him.

Aemond holds you down. You fight, you push and pull, like the waves lapping at the shore. Your nightgown rides up, his pants and shirt come off. He chases your sadness away with steady rolls of the hips, until all that is left is you and him, and not the ghosts of your past.

You break down gloriously, beneath him. Clawing at his back, wanting to make him hurt as you hurt. Sometimes, Aemond needs to hurt, too.

Sometimes it’s him, who wakes up screaming.

You fight. You scream. The guards knock on the door, concerned about what you are doing to each other, thinking one of you finally snapped and attempted murder. Like beasts, you roll around on the floor, clothes ripping, hair being pulled, skin bitten.

You ride him, sometimes. Your delicate hands turn into cuffs, keeping him pinned down. You sob your way through it, until Aemond cannot tell if it’s over stimulation or sadness. It’s sick. You two act like cats in heat. It’s the best sex he had ever had.

No matter who was the instigator, the next morning you slip out of bed, embarrassed by your behavior. Cold. You avoid his eyes, his mere presence makes you flinch. But despite your sudden turn into the most proper woman in the realm, Aemond knows the truth.

You are ruined. Just like him.

Hugor and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

(The Smith's book. 2:14-15)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut

623 notes · View notes

margoisthemoon2 · 11 months

Text

Hate // Miguel O’Hara x Spiderpunk x reader smut w/ plot

Word count: Idk I wasn’t keeping track but this is very long.

Warning. Smut. Fingering. Eating out. Rough. PIV sex. Porn w/ plot. Unprotected sex.

Note: OC is 20-22. Miguel is in his 30s. Hobie is 19-21. This story takes place before ATSV. Contains a bit of spoilers. If you haven’t watched the movie then idk what to say, just don’t get mad at me lol. Ummm I haven’t wrote smut in a while so bare with me plz. Also OC is black because i am and there needs to be more representation. Oc can look like whatever you want them to look like but i put height/weight in there already. Okay im sorry im done. Go read!!!!

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Let’s do this one last time.

Hey I’m spider woman or more so called Spider Riot. I’m 5’11, 130lbs. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for 4yrs I’ve been the one and only spider woman of New York on Earth 1214. A year ago I was pulled into the spider-verse. Invited by Jessica Drew and taught by her also. Lets get to the real story.

My best bud and rocker; Hobie Brown or as i call him, Hobs. We met a few months into me being in the verse. Our similar style and life made us super close super fast and we have been inseparable since. “Hey hobs have you seen my guitar pic?” I asked. We was getting ready to rehearse a song and I was desperately looking for my red and black pik i had just a few minutes ago. “Why are you asking me its your stuff” Hobie says lazily strumming on his guitar. I look at him with an annoyed expression. “Wow your really no help you know that?” I say reaching under a couch digging around for my stuff “good” He says reaching behind him “is this it lad” he says holding up my exact pic “ah yes!! Thanks hobs” i say reaching for it and him pulling his hand farther away from my reach. “Gotta give me a kiss first” he says with a smirk on his face “Hardy har har give it hobs” i says snatching it from his hands “i just wanted to know if you would actually do it” he says walking to the back of our rehearsal room. I know that he likes me but I just don’t feel the same. He is a great guy and all but i have my eyes set on someone else… Miguel O’Hara. Miguels was a authoritative 6’7 man who i couldn’t help but fall for.

After rehearsal I, Hobie and a few other bandmates was hanging out in the living area chatting. It was getting late. I do a big yawn and stands up “looks like it’s my time to bounce guys” i say heading towards the door “ill come with you to make sure you get home safely” hobie goes and we both head out the door into the cool night air. We walk into an alleyway and i get out my watch and type in my destination, a portal opens up lighting up the area. “Same time tomorrow?” Hobie goes leaning against a wall “you betcha” i say stepping a foot into the portal. “Actually i need you both at HQ” a hologram of jess pops up behind hobie. “Its late and people have jobs” hobie goes turning around “and those people are not you or her” jess says looking over at me “Get over here asap its important” and with that Jessica’s hologram goes away and i sign “well I guess we have other plans” i go typing in Nueva York destination and Me and Hobie step in disappearing. We arrive at HQ and i immediately goes to throw up into the nearest trashcan. “I will always say this. I. Hate. Portal. Traveling.” I say a sick look on my face. “Well you go to and from my place all the time” hobie goes shoving me a but with his elbow, “yeah because I actually like you and your fun” i go poking his nose the sick feeling leaving my body as we arrive to Miguels ‘office’. We wait what seems like an eternity for miguel platform to lower to us. “By the gods i hate this” I whisper to hobie “I can hear you” Miguel goes as soon as his platform stops. He turns towards us. “How many times do I have to warn you both to cut it out with the constant traveling between earths” He says “In the past 6mths you both have totaled over 12,000 travels. Hobie more than Moxie” Miguel goes pinching the bridge of his nose and putting a hand on his hip. “Where are you going so much hobs” I jokingly say, hobie side eyed me “don’t worry ’bout it” he goes and looks back at Miguel. We watch as Miguel blabbers on about being a superhero and being more responsible. “You are dismissed” Miguel says we both turn around to walk away “Except for you Moxie” He says running a hand over his face. Hobie winks at me and walks away with jess. “What did i do now your highness?” I go rolling my eyes. When i focus back in miguel is standing in front if me. Close enough to reach up and touch. I look up making eye contact with him and feeling smaller than ever under his large frame. “Do you know that hobie is mainly going to your earth?” He says, i talk a gulp of air “No I didn’t. Why are you bringing it up?” I ask taking a step back, miguel puts both hands on his hips “I think you should find out for yourself. And please…please be safe Mox. You two might be friends but who knows what that kid is up to” Miguel goes pointing out into the distance. “Yeah…yeah ill keep an eye out. Thanks” i say feeling a small tingling in my cheeks. I turn to leave, looking back and seeing Miguel walking back to his platform. “Miguel being worried for me…..strange” i think seeing Hobie sitting down and kicking up his feet. We wave at eachother and i do a small run over.

I wake up in a sweat. The dream i just had was so weird and strange. It was miguel and me in a relationship. Laughing. Happy. Drinking coffee. “I hate coffee” I whisper to myself and remembering the numbers i saw in that dream 199786. I slip on my spider suit. Black and red mask with long sleeve arm covers. Cropped red leather jack and half full black and red plaid skirt with thigh high combat boots. Jumping out of my open window and swinging to the rook of my building pulling out my hidden radio, listening to my next thing to do.

After fighting off a villain and rescuing a few kittens from too tall trees im finally free. But the numbers 199786 wont leave my mind. Out of curiosity i Type it into my watch and a portal opens up. Surprised I listen to my radio one more time….silence. I shut it off stepping into the portal and flying away. I land into a version of new york. But not my new york. It’s more minimal and cleaner. I’m on the rook of what would be my building in my earth. And look down and the person i don’t expect to see is… Miguel. I swing down. Hiding behind a car as i watch him enter a corner coffee shop. I look up at the business name Ceces Coffee Cafe. This place closed in my world tears ago. I continued watching running to hid behind a neatly trimmed bush looking through the window at miguel or at least a version of him. This Miguel looks more happy with life and a gleam to his eyes. I watch as he orders a coffee the server face is hidden behind a hat and then they look up…. ME. The server is me. I’m working here and talking to Miguel. “Hey are you okay?” I hear a voice behind me and turn around to see a lady reaching to touch my shoulder. I jump back and swing away to a rooftop. Can’t believing my eyes. I open a portal back to my world. Taking another look back and see Miguel leaving the cafe with a big smile on his face and a coffee in his hand. I quickly exit and land back to my world. I cant tell anyone.

It’s been a few months and every 2-3 weeks I visit ‘myself’ at the shop. Seeing miguel come in and order the same coffee. Its the 4th time ive come to this earth and im sitting in the shop using a black mask and a hat to cover my face a features. Miguel enters and goes right up to ‘me’ and orders. But instead of walking to wait for his coffee he does something else.

“Hey so i know i come here alot and fet the same thing but… i was wondering if you would be interested in grabbing dinner with me sometime” Miguels goes rubbing the back of his neck nervously

The version of me does a small chuckle. “Actually I would like that”

My eyes widen as i watch them exchange numbers and Miguel grabs his coffee and leaves. I quickly gets up and leaves. Turning a corner into an alleyway and opening up a portal. My heart is beating fast and hard. I jump into the portal and land in my room on my bed. Doing a sequel of excitement. “Omg I can’t believe Im going on a date with Miguel o’hara. Well a version of me but STILL” i say to myself. “What are you losing your wits for?” I hear a familiar voice say in my doorway. I look up. Hobie. “Hobs when did you get here?” I say sitting up. “Don’t worry ‘bout it” he says and looks up “where ya go?” He questions leaning against the doorway. “Don’t worry about it” i shoot back at him. He rolls his eyes and walks away into the living room. I follow behind sitting on the couch and watch as he perch himself on my coffee table. “So I’ve been thinking. We work great together” he goes. “Yeah we work pretty good beating bad guys” i say laying down onto the rest of the couch “yea, we’d look even betta together” he says looking at me. I look around and back at him “look hobs. You’re a really good friend and all but im waiting for someone” i say leaning up on my elbows to look at him more. “And that someone will never be ready for you. Why wait when im right here for you now” he goes i sit up fully “it can’t happen hobie. Im sorry. We just do-“ i get cut off from Hobie rushing over and kissing me. The kiss was soft with a little urgency. The cold metal of his lip piercing causing me to shiver a bit. “What was that again?” Hobie goes. I look at him still processing everything. Hobie leans in kissing down my neck. I put a hand on his shoulder “no please let me show you how much i care” He goes and looks at me. We make eye contact and i nod my head. Hobie moves down to the floor. And gently spreads my legs as he plants kisses along my underwear through my skirt. I let out a small gasp when I feel his tongue pushing into my underwear and into my area. I watch as his head comes up and we stare into eachother eyes as he pulls off my underwear. He lowers back in and continues to kiss my area. Eventually he sticks his tongue in and uses a free hand to rub my clit. I gasp and let out a small moan. “Youre so wet” i do a small hum as he proceeds to lick and suck my area. His left hand that was previously on my thigh grabs a boob and massages it for a bit before it goes down and two fingers plunge into my softly. I let out another moan. “Yeah you like that right?” The sounds of his sucking and my wetness fills the room. I’m getting close snd his fingers picks up the pace a little faster. “There we go” he says and i arch my back and do a not so loud moan. He kisses between my legs and removes his fingers. Getting a paper towel to wipe them clean. I’m panting looking up at the ceiling. “What have i done?” I think to myself. I quickly put on my underwear and hobie is walking back to me. “What ya thi-“ he says before i cut him off “go” i say “what? I-“ he stutters “JUST GO HOBIE. Please. I need time to process this” i say almost shouting at him. I hear a shuffle before a portal opens behind and he’s gone. I curl up into a ball and cry silently. Things are going to be so different from now on. Slowly i drift into sleep. Somehow my tear stained cheeks comfort me a bit.

•••

“Hey. HEY WAKE UP!!” I shot up from my sleep jessica’s holographic voice yelling at me. “Yeah! Yeah! What is it?” I ask yawning and rubbing my eyes. Looking up at her. “Miguel wants you at HQ” she says crossing her arms. “Okay, okay just let me get ready and ill be out there” i say getting up “yeah yeah. Shuuutt up” she says before leaving.

I arrive at HQ doing my usual throwing up my insides and talking to a few spiders. Eventually I arrive. “You called miguel” i say kinda afraid of why im here “yeah. Jess leave the room and shit the door make sure noone comes in…or out” his eyes shoot me a glare. I gulp and watch jess leaves. Miguel stands and looks at me “how are your portal travels?” He says “umm good good. Haven’t really been going anywhere except for hobies place” i say playing with my hands “really. Because i see you’ve been going to a unusual PLACE!!” Miguel says and jump down from his platform. “Umm what you mean?” I say taking a step back “you know exactly what I mean” he says walking up me me “Haha funny joke. Nice one you got me!!” I say nervously stepping back until my back hits a object and Miguel towers over me “Dont play dumb and stupid with me. What is earth 199786? And how do you know about it” he says “i don’t know. I’ve only been there a few times” i say “i saw it in a dream and it stuck with me” i say trying to move away. Miguel uses him arms to trap me in on both sides, he leans in closer, whispering in my ear “I know all about your little secret moxie” he says “You do?” I go shaking a bit. Both in fear and arousal. “Yeah and I know what you want” he goes. I feel his hand grab my waist as he pulls me closer to me. He pulls his head away and looks down at me. I gulp “you do?” I ask again “yeah. This!” He goes before he kisses me. In shock i push him off me. We stare at eachother for -5 seconds before i throw myself onto him and we continue kissing. I run my hands through his hair and he gives a small chuckle. “I work very hard on my hair” he goes as i bite down on his lip a bit and go “well looks like you’re gonna have to work hard again” we continue kissing and he starts using his hands to make me grind on his clothed member. I reach down to remove my underwear and immediately i feel his hand in between my legs. His thick long finger plunging into me “Youre so wet” he goes and i moan a little louder as he sucks on my neck. He removes his fingers putting them on his mouth sucking on what’s left of me. He takes my shirt and rip it open “don’t worry ill get you a nee one” he says into my ear. His suit retracts and he is bare in front of me. He taps my thigh a couple of times signaling me to jump up. I obliged he uses one hand to hold me up and the other to position himself. “This is going to hurt a bit sweetheart” slowly he moves into me. I wince a little from how big he is. He starts off slow. My juices covering his length now allowing him to slip in easier and faster. I moan loudly and bite his shoulder “Yeah you like that right?” He goes i lean my head back and we kiss. He start picking up the pace hammering into me. The feeling of his balls hitting my butt turns me on even more. I feel us moving as he walks over to a table like area and lays me down on it. Taking one leg and putting it on his shoulder and using a hand to cup my breast. The bee position allowing him to go deeper and faster. I put a hand on his bicep to hold myslef in place “oh god miguel faster” i say “There we go” he says as he lowers my leg and put both arms by my shoulders to hold me in place as he ruthlessly pounds into me. Our skin slapping rapidly and echoing in the large room. “Oh fuck. Miguel. Im close” i moan. He lowers himself onto me and rest his head in the corner of my neck, panting loudly and letting out few groans to curses. “Fuck!! I want to cum in you” He says as he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up a bit. The new position causing us both to moan and he sloppily kisses me. “Please do. Please miguel” i say in the heat of the moment. He looks at me to thrust into me a few times before I felt the warm rish of his cum paint my walls. I orgasmed and my legs shake he thrust into me slowly as we both come down from the intense moment. He slips off and kisses my forehead. “Go and shower I’ll go get you a new shirt” He goes as his suit materializes back onto him.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

-The next day-

I happily skip into HQ to see miguel of course. Me and Hobie still haven’t talk but i plan to fix that. I see Miguel talking to jess and Ben and kiss him on the cheek. “Hey miggy” i say cheerfully He looks at me with cold eyes and back at jess and ben “excuse me for a moment” he gently shoves me out of earshot of the two “what the hell are you doing?” He asks “what you mean? Im just giving my future boyfriend a kiss” I giggle. He closes his eyes and sign’s before opening them again and looks at me. “Im not your future anything. We had a one night stand” he says looking away “what! No last night was very intimate. You made loved to me!” I go “No. i fucked you. I was stressed and you was there. Like i said i knew all about your visit to earth 199786. Those versions of ourselves dating. Well thats not going to happen between us okay, i filled your fantasy and you you helped me out” he says. He pats me on my shoulder before walking back to jess and ben. I felt the tears form and fall as I quickly typed in my home and left. Running to my room and into my bed crying into my pillow. “Im always here if you need me.” I hear behind me, i turn around, Hobie. “And im sorry for what i did. It was stupid and i wont ever do it again” he goes and sits on the edge of my bed. I sit up and hug him tight. “Im sorry for doing that to you hobs. You’re all I could ever ask for” i say He wraps his arms around me and I silently cry into his shirt, he says “Dont worry about it Big steppa. I could never hate you”

End.

Note: My thumb kinda hurts now. Anyways what you think? Should moxie stay with hobie or should she go back to Miguel who cant decide his feelings for anyone. Also did you pay attention to the smut details i did using the same words that hobie used with moxie and had Miguel also use them to get a different reaction from Moxie. Anyways. Dont steal. I only posted this fic on tumblr and nowhere else. I hope you enjoyed it. Rock on!

#marvel #spiderman atsv #atsv fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spider punk #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara smut #spider punk smut #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown smut #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #jessica drew #miguel o’hara fic #spiderpunk fic

375 notes · View notes

carionto · 7 months

Note

Human sciens is simply fuck around and find out

So when the humans give a tour of the labs so alliance members see what the crazed apes are up to, suddenly BOOM the halls shake and lights flicker but the tour group is fine while the one giving the tour says something like "Ah thats the sound of progress" all while there's people rushing by with guns and extinguishers yelling about a code Red and subject escape

[22/09/23] Nice, that is a fun trope to work with. I think I'll leave the dinosaur crew be, and have some other questionable research station make a debut with an "accident". [23/09/23] Idea pops in my head after several rejections - Human-alien hybrids (because you can't cross-breed because that's not how biology works, but Humans are still curious, because of course we are) [24/09/23] Actually, no, I don't like that: 1st - fairly common as is; 2nd - doesn't feel right with the Humanity I'm writing out. No, I think a better avenue is, since Earth in this verse is gonna collapse in on itself in under a century, experiments towards terraforming methods, since that's a requirement and thus a literal blank check for any- and everything. Yes. (mad scientist voice) Yeessss, I can see it taking shape! [25/09/23] It took some kind of shape indeed.

_____________________________

Biology is the most diverse and complicated field of research with literally no end in sight. We will eventually discover every law of physics, and, yes, chemistry also has the potential for limitless combinations, only in biology can you find and create circumstances where trillions of different organisms co-exist and co-operate, compete, and can create a stable and self sustaining system. Not to mention mutation and evolution across generations, as well as the myriad of changes and adaptations a single organism can undergo in its singular lifespan. The potential is truly beyond the bounds of imagination.

Since biology is an omnipresent field in every civilization, it is only natural that it didn't take long before a Human led joint Coalition Flora research station was established - the Efflorescent Sneezewort Yarrow.

It is also natural that not long after that the non-Human staff sent this panicked message:

The Humans are insane! First, there is no regulation for anything beyond decontamination, which would be fine, if - IF - they didn't sometimes just bring the test materials out with them anyway for, and I quote: "Let it experience the outside world" or "Introduce it to my other plant buddies." The head researcher, instead of reprimanding this clearly dangerous behavior, just lets it happen. As a matter of fact, he almost exclusively and constantly ingests a plant-based gaseous substance through a device he calls a "bong" and locks himself for days on end within a random lab and, as he put it while looking at the ceiling: "Feel out the connections. We're all part of one whole, and only by becoming one with the roots of the soul can you truly attain the understanding of the spirit, and unlock the true calling of each sapling." As I draft this emergency message, there is a shuttle going through decontamination with two squads, one is an extreme disaster containment unit, the other a full on military special forces unit. With heavy duty weaponry. The worst is what they had to say: "Yeah, sometimes one of these nutcases gets the idea to combine plants with animal genes, and, to be fair, with access to the whole Coalition database and samples, I get it. There's a lot of really weird and cool creatures out there on each planet, makes most people at least think about playing scientist. Anyway, it's gonna be fine, the code said it was just a Mini HoH, so we'll be done in under an hour and you can all go back to doing your thing. I just hope we don't have to burn the thing this time, the prof said it's something like a dandelion and a small rainforest actual almost-lion from one of the real far out planets, but it's got bunny ears and the nose of a German shepherd, sorta. I think that's kinda neat." By the way, HoH stands for, and I am not making this up and the translator did get it right - House of Horrors. They claim it is just an homage to a piece of old Human culture. I don't believe them. I refuse to be a part of this madhouse for any longer than I must. Send a vessel and return me to a normal laboratory setting. I will now incubate myself in a cryo-pod to prevent any more exposure to these "scientists". Thaw me out in clean garbs and with two interns already doing real work on new medicines.

#humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #carionto

149 notes · View notes

whencartoonsruletheworld · 11 months

Text

Okay so since there’s soooo much fucking transphobia rampant, here’s a post for those of you who either are Christian and/or surrounded by Christian queerphobes. Here’s a list of rebuttals to when they start talking about how being trans is ungodly.

Most of these rebuttals are religious as that is the base they will be arguing from; however I did include bit of a science to make their heads spin.

“Genesis also says that God made morning and evening. Are morning and evening strictly binary? Is there nothing inbetween? Can you define 'morning'? How about the binary of darkness and light?”

“So if we're born the gender we are, what are intersex people?” [when they inevitably say there's just "so few of them"] “There are more intersex people than there are redheads. 1.7% of the population are Intersex, while roughly 1.5% are redheads. Does that mean that redheads do not 'count' when discussing hair color?”

[to “God doesn't make mistakes”] “Yes, of course. They just do impossible things. After all, if God could put a baby into a virgin, or could bring life to the dead, why could they not put a boy's soul into a girl's body, or vice versa?”

Feel free to also say “God literally made such a mistake with all humanity that they flooded the planet.”

This line is from a Jewish source, Something That May Shock and Discredit You by Daniel Mallory Ortberg: “As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: 'God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.'”

Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.“

If they're using the Deuteronomy verse (22:5, about not crossdressing or w/e), know that line is mistranslated. Quoting https://hoperemainsonline.com/index.php/transgender/, “A more literal translation from Hebrew reads 'The weapon of a warrior shall not be on a woman, nor shall a warrior put on the robe of a woman, for all who do these things are a hateful thing to the LORD thy God.' The word “robe” is translated from the Hebrew word simlah, which was a garment worn by both sexes. Clearly, this cannot be referring to cross-dressing. What could it be referring to then? A much more likely answer to that question is that it is about ritual purity and the mixing of blood. Both warrior’s swords and women’s garments would get blood on them, one from battle and the other from menstruation. To have a man wear the robe of a woman, or vice versa, would mix blood, which was considered an abomination under the law.”

Similar mistranslations result in the homophobic verses they spew as well. just browse through hoperemains for some inspo

This last one is long, but it talks about how all humans, including women, were created in God's image; therefore, God is both male and female. If it's wrong for humans to be, why is God enby themself?

From The Africana Bible, edited by Hugh R Page Jr:

“The term occasionally translated as 'human beings' in the NRSV and generally as "man" in most other English versions is 'adam or ha'adam. Now this is clearly not a personal name (that is, Adam) as the KJV ill-advisedly begins to indicate at about Gen. 2:19. A better translation of this term, however, would be “the earthling” since the term is derived from the term ‘adamah, meaning “land” or “earth.” Such a translation clarifies better than “man” or even “human being” that the original intent of the author is to emphasize that God made “earthlings” as a whole, not just males, in God’s image[...]”

[...]“Such a translation takes into consideration that the term ‘adam is meant to function as a collective term referring to both the male and the female. Thus, we should note that ‘adam here is not a name or an ascription of gender but a collective term for “earthlings” in general; this is emphasized by the author’s choice of the plural pronoun ‘otham, and the use of the plural verbs veyirddu and urdu, meaning in 1:26 and 1:28, 'let THEM have dominion,' further reiterates the inclusive nature of the term ‘adam. [...] In Genesis 1 and 2, both genders were created with equal expressions of God’s image, equal authority over the earth, and equal value as human beings.”

#transphobia /#transphobia m /#christianity #christian #mine

273 notes · View notes

stargirlaveblog · 3 months

Text

7Seals

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

• Levi Ackerman FanFic x OC Fem! Slow Burn! Canon Verse!

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

♰ New chapters every Thursday

♰ Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with (*) at each chapter.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

Table of Contents:

Playlist (coming soon)

Prologue

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

"Now I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals; and I heard one of the four living creatures saying with a voice like thunder, 'Come and see.' And I looked, and behold, a white horse. He who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer."

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

"When He opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, 'Come and see.' Another horse, fiery red, went out. And it was granted to the one who sat on it to take peace from the earth, and that people should kill one another; and there was given to him a great sword."

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

A/N (2/22/24): Hey Hey! I hope you guys are enjoying, all the support means so much to me. This is my first fic ever so I’m learning on the way so thanks for the patience.

I have big plans for this fic. With that I plan to follow the whole aot storyline to the rumbling. I don’t plan on ending anytime soon. Just keep in mind this might be a painful slow-burn with lots of OC trauma.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━

Any art/images are not mine and belong to the rightful creators & owners. OC & OC’s storyline is my creation. Do not repost on other platforms. Do not copy work. All artists & creators deserve recognition for their creations.

105 notes · View notes

jooheons · 10 months

Photo

spider-man 2099 / miguel o’hara reading guide

miguel o’hara was a young genetics genius employed at mega corporation alchemax, in the future city of nueva york of the year 2099 (a future universe where all superheroes got wiped out). he became spider-man when one of his experiments to replicate the powers of spider-man is used against him, his dna is rewritten and became fifty percent spider.

essential reading:

spider-man 2099 (1992), #1-10

spider-man 2099, #11-14

spider-man 2099 annual, #1

2099 unlimited #1-3 *

spider-man 2099, #15

ravage 2099, #15 *

x-men 2099, #5 *

doom 2099 (1993), #14 *

punisher 2099 (1993), #13 *

spider-man 2099, #16-22

spider-man 2099, #23-33

2099 unlimited #8 *

ghost rider 2099 #7 *

spider-man 2099, #34-38

spider-man 2099 special #1

spider-man 2099 meets spider-man #1

2099 unlimited #9-10 *

spider-man 2099, #39-46 *

2099: world of tomorrow (1996), #1-8 *

2099: manifest destiny *

* in early 1996, editor joey cavalieri was fired. it led to the cancellation of the 2099 titles. for spider-man 2099′s case, peter david (creator and writer) chose to resign in solidarity with his editor, finishing his run with issue #44. the last two issues of spider-man 2099 were done without his input and the series ended with issue #46.

* cross-overs are optional reading, they’re grouped together with the original spider-man 2099 issues because it’s part of their collection.

non-essential reading (crossovers):

fantastic four 2099 (1996), #4, #6, #8

captain marvel (2000) #27-30

exiles (2001-2008), #72 *

exiles #75-99

exiles annual #1

timestorm 2009-2099 (2009), #1–4 *

* exiles!miguel is a variant (not the same from his 1992 run), he’s from earth-6375 here.

* timestorm!miguel is a variant, he’s from earth-96099 here.

semi-essential reading (main marvel universe):

superior spider-man (2013), #17-21

superior spider-man #22-26

superior spider-man annual #1

superior spider-man #27-31

superior spider-man annual #2

essential reading (spider-verse event):

spider-man 2099 (2014) #1-5

amazing spider-man (2014) #1

amazing spider-man (2014) #9-15

spider-man 2099 (2014), #6-12

spider-man 2099 (2015), #1-5

spider-man 2099 (2015), #6-10

spider-man 2099 (2015), #11-16

spider-man 2099 (2015), #17-21

spider-man 2099 (2015), #22-25

spider-man 2099 meets spider-man (1995)

amazing spider-man (2018), #32-36

semi-essential reading (back to 2099):

spider-man 2099 (2019)

spider-man 2099: exodus alpha (2022)

spider-man 2099: exodus #1-5

spider-man 2099: exodus omega

spider-man 2099: dark genesis #1-5

other media:

spider-man: shattered dimensions (2010, video game)

spider-man: edge of time (2011, video game)

ultimate spider-man, the spider-verse: part 1 (2015, animated series)

spider-man: into the spider-verse (2018, film)

spider-man: across the spider-verse (2023, film)

this reading guide will be updated should any upcoming projects arise!

#spidermanedit #comicedit #marveledit #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #atsvedit #*#heavily inspired by coolgirl's jason guide :)#very big thank you to zee (@tresrachas on twt) for the graphics help!

392 notes · View notes

mythicalartisttm · 4 months

Note

What’s your opinion on transgenders people? I ask as i have seen you reblog a few things and I am unsure on your stance. I mean this in no judgmental way i would just like to know your thoughts

anon this ask both excites me and fills me with caution, but! I will provide you with what you seek!

what do I think about transgender people? Here’s my answer to that, but be warned, it is lengthy!

1) they’re to be treated as people, not outcasts. Human is human, and we are supposed to treat fellow humans with love, care, and respect, even if we don’t agree with the people in question, or if it’s just plain hard.

2) I say this with gentleness: their perceptions of themselves are skewed*, and there are many reasons for this with the primary one being that we live in a broken world, which leads to everything else. But one of the absolute worst things we can do to trans people/ people who want to be trans, regardless of the reason, is to go along with the idea that they are or can be any other gender than the one they were born with. As you can probably tell, I believe in the God of the Bible, and that while human hands may have written the physical book, He speaks through the people that wrote it. So let’s let His Word do the talking.

You know the creation story, yeah? It’s ok if you don’t, let’s recap anyways:

Every day for 6 days, God made aspects of our universe, and when He declared everything finished – perfect! God’s work ain’t finished ‘till it’s perfect – He rested on the 7th day (Genesis 1 and 2). On the 6th day He made humans, male and female, and they were made in the image of God Himself (Gen. 2:26). They were also the only aspect of creation God formed with His own hands; Genesis 2:7 says God made the first man from the dust of the earth, and verses 21-22 says He took a piece of the man to make the first woman.

That might not seem huge to you, but it speaks volumes of the care God put into humanity specifically. Everything else – the sun, stars, sky, trees, dogs, almost everything you can think of – God simply spoke them into existence. But for humans; for you, anon? He got up, got His hands dirty, and shaped your head, your heart, your spirit, your body. He gave humanity a literal special touch that He gave to nothing else.

This is reinforced again by God speaking through king David’s Psalm 139, verses 13-16:

13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. 15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. 16 You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

God is omnipresent, meaning that He’s everywhere all the time any time, and nothing escapes His knowledge. This includes the creation of a new human being (again: male or female, no secret 3rd option for this one). And because God Himself – who makes no mistakes – oversees and ordains the creation of every new little boy or girl, wouldn’t it make sense that God would make them as He intended to make them: perfectly, without mistake? There is then no ground for the “born in the wrong body” argument to stand on, because God made your body with you in mind; your body was made specifically for you, and there were no errors on His end.

Now, what if you just straight up don’t like your body? I think everyone has disliked their body and/or felt uncomfortable in it at some point, that includes me. If someone’s going through puberty then they are almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable in their body because that kiddo and their body both are growing up. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable in your body simply because it’s changing, but this particular change is a good thing! Going through puberty is a sign that your body is working as it should, even if it feels weird. To try and block this transition from happening, or deliberately alter it, is to actively harm your body’s natural progression.

So yes, I do think that a trans person’s view of their body – that they were made for a different body and so they should change it – is not only wrong, but harmful to themselves in the long run. Why are we affirming this; giving people of all ages the means to scar themselves to feel good in the now?

Last bit before the TL;DR: if there’s anyone out there who thinks God won’t except them for any reason that you can think of, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is grace for you. Yes, even for that; please refer to my pinned post. And also this.

My explanation doesn’t cover all bases I’m sure, but the TL;DR is that the human body is a sacred thing designed by God, with care, made differently and specifically for every individual person, and it is medical malpractice (evil) to alter it within the context of transgenderism. If you have undergone the gender transition at any time – or have done anything else, ever – God still loves you with his whole heart, and He wants you to let Him help you with whatever may have dragged you down this time. Even if it was self-inflicted.

Lastly, some stuff I didn’t know how to cleanly fit into All That

*it is worth noting that basically everyone has a skewed perception of themselves about different things and to different degrees, but in this context I mean “a skewed perception of how a trans person relates to their body”

Creation was deemed “good” before people, but after people, God declared it “very good.” Again, in Genesis 1. I literally cannot stress enough how much God wants people to come to Him for whatever the reason

Chloe Cole's discussion with Dr. Peterson + the comment section and the testimonies in it

this post

#tm answers #heavy post #there's always stuff i can phrase better i am positive #but this is my best atm #long post #also anon how did u find me i am genuinely curious

85 notes · View notes

creativewaygrace · 11 days

Text

Bible Verses About Witchcraft

1 Chronicles 10:13- Saul died for his unfaithfulness to the Lord because he did not keep the Lord's word He even consulted a medium for guidance.

1 Samuel 15:23- For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and defiance is like wickedness and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has rejected you as king.

1 Samuel 22:23- Stay with me. Don't be afraid, for the one who wants to take my life wants to take your life. You will be safe with me.

2 Chronicles 33:6- He passed his sons through the fire in Ben Hinnom Valley. He practiced witchcraft, divination, and sorcery, and consulted mediums and spiritists. He did a huge amount of evil in the Lord's sight, angering him.

Leviticus 19:31- Do not turn to mediums, or consult spiritists, or you will be defiled by them, I am the Lord your God.

Leviticus 20:6- Whoever turns to mediums or spiritists and prostitutes' himself with them, I will turn against that person and cut him off from his people.

Leviticus 20:27- A man or a woman who is a medium or a spiritists must be put to death. They are to be stoned; their death is their own fault.

Revelation 18:23- The light of a lamp will never shine in you again and the voice of a groom and bride will never be heard in you again. All this will happen because your merchants were the nobility of the earth, because all the nations were deceived by your sorcery.

Revelation 21:8- But the cowards, faithless, detestable, murderers, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their share will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

Galatians 5:19-20- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions.

Galatians 5:19-21- Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, moral impurity, promiscuity, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambitions, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing and anything similar. I am warning you about these things, as I warned you before, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Micha 5:10-12- In that day, this is the Lord's declaration, I will remove your horses from you and wreck your chariots. I will remove the cities of your land and tear down all your fortresses. I will remove sorceries from your hands, and you will not have any more fortune tellers.

Acts 19:17-20- When this became known to everyone who lived in Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks, they became afraid, and the name of the Lord Jesus was held in high esteem. And many who had become believers came confessing and disclosing their practices, while many of those who had practiced magic collected their books and burned them in front of everyone. So they calculated their value and found it to be fifty thousand pieces of silver, in this way the word of the Lord flourished and prevailed.

Isaiah 8:19-22- When they say to you, "Inquire of the mediums and the spiritists who chirp and mutter, shouldn't a people inquire of their God? Should they inquire of the dead, on behalf of the living? Go to God's instruction and testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, there will be no dawn for them. They will wander through the land, dejected and hungry. When they are famished, they will become enraged, and looking upward, will curse their king and their God. They will look toward the earth and see only distress, darkness, and the gloom of affliction, and they will be driven into thick darkness.

Isaiah 19: 1-4- A pronouncement concerning Egypt: Look, the Lord rides on a swift cloud and is coming to Egypt. Egypt's idols will tremble before him, and Egypt will loose heart. I will provoke Egyptians against Egyptians, each will fight against his brother and each against his friend, city against city, kingdom against kingdom. Egypt's spirit will be disturbed within it, and I will frustrate it's plans. Then they will inquire of idols, ghosts, and spiritists. I will hand over Egypt to harsh masters, and a strong king will rule it. This is the declaration of the Lord of Armies.

Acts 8:9-13- A man named Simon had previously practiced sorcery in that city and amazed the Samaritan people, while calming to be somebody great. They all paid attention to him, from the least to the greatest and they said, "This man is called the Great Power of God". They were attentive to him because he had amazed them with his sorceries for a long time, but when they believed Philip, as he proclaimed

Deuteronomy 18:10-14- No one among you is to sacrifice his son or daughter in the fire, practice divination, tell fortunes, interpret omens, practice sorcery, cast spells, consult a medium or spiritists, or inquire of the dead. Everyone who does these acts is detestable to the Lord, and the Lord your God is driving out the nations before you because of these detestable acts. You must be blameless before the Lord your God. Though these nations you are about to drive out listen to fortune-tellers and diviners, the Lord your God has not permitted you to do this.

Isaiah 47: 8-14- So now hear this, lover of luxury, who sits securely, who says to herself, I am, and there is no one else. I will never be a widow or know the loss of children. These two things will happen to you suddenly, in one day, loss of children and widowhood. They will happen to you in their entirety, in spite of your many sorceries and potency of your spells. You were secure in your wickedness, you said No one sees me. Your wisdom and knowledge led astray. You said it yourself, I am, and there is no one else. But disaster will happen to you, you will not know how to avert it. And it will fall on you, but you will be unable to ward it off . Devastation will happen to you suddenly and unexpectedly. So take your stand with your spells and your many sorceries, which you have wearied yourself with from your youth. Perhaps you will be able to succeed, perhaps you will inspire terror! You are worn out with your many consultations. So let the astrologers stand and save you, those who observe the stars, those predict monthly what will happen to you. Look, they are like stubble, fire burns them. They cannot rescue themselves from the power of the flame. This is not a coal for warming themselves, or a fire to sit beside!

#christianity #bible verses #warning of God #jesus christ #false preachers #false idols

33 notes · View notes

notealotgoingon · 4 months

Text

2023 Bullet Journal Cover & Lists

- movies - books - physical music stickers

(typed list below cut)

Movies

X (2022) ★★★★★ 1/9

Pearl (2022) ★★★★★ 1/10

Jason X (2001) ★★★ 1/17

X (2022) ★★★★★ 1/26

Pearl (2022) ★★★★★ 2/11

Rosemary's Baby (1968) ★★★★★ 2/11

Harley Quinn: A Very Problematic Valentine's Day Special (2023) ★★★★★ 2/12

Skinamarink (2022) ★★★★ 3/8

Re-Animator (1985) ★★★★ 3/12

Ring (1998) ★★★★★ 3/12

Ju-On: The Grudge (2002) ★★★★ 3/12

I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) ★★★★ 4/2

Scary Movie (2000) ★★★ 4/3

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) ★★★★★ 4/5

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ★★★★★ 4/18

Scary Movie 2 (2001) ★★★ 5/3

Scary Movie 3 (2003) ★★ 5/4

The Green Knight (2021) ★★★★★ 5/20

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) ★★★★ 5/21

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania (2023) ★★ 6/6

Evil Dead Rise (2023) ★★★★1/2 6/27

Nimona (2023) ★★★★ 7/2

Barbarian (2022) ★★★★ 7/6

Malignant (2021) ★★★★ 7/7

Barbie (2023) ★★★★★ 7/23

Scream VI (2023) ★★★1/2 8/1

Saw (2004) ★★★★ 8/1

Frozen (2010) ★★ 8/2

Resident Evil: Death Island (2023) ★★★★ 8/21

Studio 666 (2022) ★★★★ 9/4

The Exorcist (1973) ★★★★1/2 9/4

Saw II (2005) ★★★★ 9/9

Saw III (2006) ★★★1/2 9/9

Saw IV (2007) ★★★1/2 9/9

Saw V (2008) ★★★ 9/9

Saw VI (2009) ★★★ 9/9

Saw 3D (2010) ★★ 9/9

Jigsaw (2017) ★★★ 9/10

Miss Americana (2020) ★★★★ 9/10

Spiral: From the Book of Saw (2021) ★★1/2 9/17

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) ★★★★1/2 9/24

Saw (2004) ★★★★1/2 9/25

Saw II (2005) ★★★★1/2 9/26

Dracula (1931) ★★★★ 10/1

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984) ★★★1/2 10/1

Friday the 13th: A New Beginning (1985) ★★★★ 10/1\

House of 1000 Corpses (2003) ★★★★ 10/8

Friday the 13th (1980) ★★★★1/2 10/13

Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour (2023) ★★★★★ 10/19

Saw VI (2009) ★★★1/2 10/28

Saw 3D (2010) ★1/2 10/29

Saw X (2023) ★★★★1/2 11/6

Saw IV (2007) ★★★1/2 11/20

Saw X (2023) ★★★★1/2 11/20

Terrifier (2016) ★★★1/2 12/4

Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth (1992) ★★ 12/4

Saw V (2008) ★★★1/2 12/4

Terrifier 2 (2022) ★★★1/2 12/11

The Green Knight (2021) ★★★★★ 12/18

Sonic Christmas Blast(1996) ★★1/2 12/22

Black Christmas (1974) ★★★★★ 12/23

Black Christmas (2006) ★★★1/2 12/24

Saltburn (2023) ★★★★ 12/29

Taylor Swift: Reputation Stadium Tour (2018) ★★★★★ 12/30

Books

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor Lavalle 1/2

The Witcher: The Last Wish by Andrzej Sakowski 1/12

We Can Never Leave This Place by Eric Larocca 1/14

Causes and Cures in the Classroom by Margaret Searle 1/29

Vox Machina: Kith & Kin by Marieke Nijkamp 2/1

Black is the Body by Emily Bernard 2/4

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas 2/18

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green 2/19

Black Klansman by Ron Stallworth 2/26

The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King 3/7

Ring by Koji Suzuki 4/14

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher 4/14

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez 5/8

Circe by Madeline Miller 5/19

When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka 5/30

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe 6/1

The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker 6/25

The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson 6/28

The Lesbian Classics Get Me Off by Chuck Tingle 6/28

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace 7/5

Teacher of the Yearby M.A. Wardell 7/7

The Colorado Kid by Stephen King 7/17

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone 7/31

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle 8/4

The Writing Revolution by Judith C. Hochman & Natalie Wexler 8/10

You Can Go Your Own Way by Eric Smith 8/20

Phasma by Delilah S. Dawson 9/12

Small Spaces by Katherine Arden 9/27

Reforged by Seth Haddon 10/8

Fifty Feet Down by Sophie Tanen 10/23

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty 11/22

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett 12/2

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade 12/7

Wildfire by Hannah Grace 12/5

Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice 12/12

Tender is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica 12/19

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers 12/20

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo 12/28

Stowaway and Silent Song by Vera Valentine 12/29

Physical Music Media:

(this isn't all of the records/CDs I've gotten or listened to this year, but I figured I'd decipher the stickers I put in the book; these are all of the promo stickers on the outside of the plastic wrapping on the releases)

Beat the Champ - the Mountain Goats

Paradise - Lana del Ray

Red (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

What's it Like? - Sure Sure

Did You Know There's A Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard? - Lana del Ray

Stick Season - Noah Kahan

The Rest - boygenius

Midnights (Late Night Edition) - Taylor Swift

Raving Ghost - Olivia Jean

The Record - boygenius

Speak Now (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

Dark in Here - the Mountain Goats

Bangerz (10th Anniversary Edition) - Miley Cyrus

God Games - the Kills

1989 (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

#mine #studyblr #notes #aesthetic #bujo #bullet journal #bujolife #bujo aesthetic #bujoinspo #bujoblr #bujo list #2023 reap #booklr #books #film

34 notes · View notes

themusingmuslim · 1 year

Text

Hamidiye Camii Mosque in the Turkish city of Kırşehir.

From its spectacular ceiling adorned with a beautiful sky to its carpet that looks like grass, the aesthetics of the mosque are said to have been inspired by verse (2:22) from the Holy Qur’an:

“...who spread out the earth for you and built the sky; who sent water down from it and with that water produced things for your sustenance. Do not, knowing this, set up rivals to God.”

Source: Bayt al-Fann / IlmFeed

130 notes · View notes

walkswithmyfather · 8 months

Text

Revelation 22:13 (NLT). “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.”

“What does Revelation 22:13 mean?” By BibleRef.com:

“Verse Commentary: Jesus identifies Himself as the Alpha and the Omega: the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet. He explains He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Previously in Revelation Jesus employed this same description of Himself (Revelation 1:8; 21:6). As the Alpha and Omega, He existed before creation and was with God in the beginning (John 1:1). He is, therefore, eternal.

Often in John's Gospel Jesus refers to Himself as the “I am;” present tense (John 6:35; 8:12; 11:25). He told His foes He and His father are one (John 10:30). His enemies recognized that Jesus claimed to be equal with God, so they picked up stones in order to stone Him to death (John 10:31). They believed He had committed blasphemy. However, long after the present creation passes away, Jesus will still exist because He is eternal. By grace, the eternal Son of God bestows eternal life on all who believe on Him (John 3:36; Romans 6:23).

Verse Context: Revelation 22:6–13 moves on from the description of life in New Jerusalem (Revelation 21:9—22:5) and focuses on Jesus' return. This marks the end of John's visions of the future, returning to more immediate instructions for Christian believers; this is the epilogue to the book of Revelation. Both the beginning and closing of Revelation offer a blessing (Revelation 1:3; 22:7). Both stress the importance of keeping the prophecy being given (Revelation 1:3; 22:7). And both identify Jesus as the Alpha and Omega (Revelation 1:8; 22:13).

Chapter Summary: John sees additional images of New Jerusalem. The city's depiction stands in contrast to the ruin experienced during the tribulation, and evokes comparisons to the garden of Eden from the book of Genesis. After this, John relates several commands and messages from Jesus Christ. Among these are a dire warning not to manipulate the words of this message. Revelation, along with the canon of Scripture, ends with a benediction and prayer for Jesus to return.

Chapter Context: This passage completes the description of New Jerusalem. Earlier chapters in Revelation described the final judgments against sin and death. Genesis chapter 3 described humanity's loss of paradise; Revelation 22 describes paradise regained. Concluding remarks by Jesus begin in verse 6 and continue through verse 20. Verse 21 records the apostle John's benediction, which marks the end of the New Testament canon.

Book Summary: The word “revelation” means “an unveiling or disclosure.” This writing unveils future events such as the rapture, three series of judgments that will fall on the earth during the tribulation, the emergence of the Antichrist, the persecution of Israel and her amazing revival, as well as Jesus' second coming with His saints to the earth, the judgment of Satan and his followers, and finally, the eternal state. This content, combined with the original Greek term apokalypsis, is why we now refer to an end-of-the-world scenario as “an apocalypse.”

35 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

thenassartz

Nass

bowelfly

bugs and monsters, eyes and teeth

mourning-ghost

Peace in my heart is where you are

snixx2088

Lai Lai

ipoddymouth

IPODAPALOOZA