#let me light the altar and pray real quick

[mr-midnights-library-of-wonders]

Yandere Idea

A Eternal Sugar Cookie based! Reader idea for a maybe yandere forsaken..,

Hear me out...

So like, I just got into crk and I had this idea for a while... Real quick, here's the key: (R/n) = Religion name, aka make up ur own (F/c) = Favorite color So let's say you are a goddess of Empathy

You were created long before the admins showed up, like a forgotten era of sorts. Back then, Robloxians worshipped their own gods. Yet these gods would only take, and take, and take

While others stayed with their old traditions, a good number of them moved away from Robloxia and into an area deep within the corners of their world (you know the farlands from Minecraft, just imagine that, but on the ground instead of a wall). The leaders of this group made a new Pantheon of gods that were written to be the divine beings; the old gods weren't

You were the head of the 'fake' Pantheon, seen as the bearer of life, light, and ultimate understanding. You had what the real gods didn't: you had empathy. The writers of these books described you as the helper of mortals, a woman who puts the happiness of others first. All of the religious scriptures are your 'teachings' put into words. In this religion (you can choose the name), they teach peace and harmony, and because you're the goddess of Empathy, happiness, understanding, etc, you're seen as the 'true' deity among the others they made. Of course, these writers didn't tell anyone they wrote the books. When someone asked, they told the person that these books came from the heavens.

(Now, my hcs are that the city looks kind of like Ancient Greece, you do you tho)

When Robloxians (mortals) pray, that hope turns into magic, which the gods use to power their hold on Robloxia. But because you were imaginary like the rest of the pantheon you were in the magic has to go somewhere, right? Well, a few centuries after the group of rogue Robloxians travelled to the unknown lands, the 'true' gods had finally found out and let's just say they weren't happy. They were furious

To them, it was wasted magic. Perfectly usable magic that was thrown away to a bunch of nonsensical characters made with ink and paper. To them, it was an insult. An insult they could not ignore. In response to these newly dubbed heretics, they sent a raid of passionate followers to end the civilisation before it grew too big to control. When the raiders came to ransack the main temple, your temple, the high priest happened to be there praying at your altar.

His hands clutching into a book of your supposed teachings

And before the raiders could strike, a hand engulfed in a (f/c) hue ripped out of the book. Your form was doused in an ethereal (f/c) glow as you pulled yourself out, a soft smile on your face. Wings expanding in a protective way in front of the priest. Turns out that 'wasted' magic was accumulating in the book, and you were brought to life. You had all the memories and thoughts that the writers, your creators, wrote in the books. You felt real, and yet you knew that you were only artificial. Before the raiders could respond, you used your magic to fling them off the island, your newfound appearance only furthering the (R/n) religion. Your presence made the one desolate landscape into a bountiful garden, an (F/c) wall acting as a barrier between your people and the outside world. An island that seperated your garden from the deserts it used to be a part of.

So now you live in a magical garden protected by magic, where you are treated like a god. Not only that, you have two companions who not only share the same immortality but also trail behind you endlessly. Where everyday, you wander through the capital of the islands, talking with everyone who passes by with a bright smile on your face. You practically radiated a joy so profound that even the most grumpy Robloxians in your presence would smile. You gave them all they would ever need, and in return, they gave you their happiness. You couldn't feel anything, only what the people around you felt How about we meet your two assistants?

Sugarfly

In this version, she doesn't get her wings messed up, y'all I ain't doing her THAT dirty. M'kay? She's the more responsible of the two, always helping with the more mundane tasks of the island. Acting more like an assistant to you when the days get really rough. She was raised on the island, taught directly under you and always willing to help. Apparently, Sugarfly was a baby brought by the raiders, but no one knows for sure. All they know is that she came to you willingly when she was a kid, and you couldn't say no.

One time she even helped organize a huge festival in your name (basically a whole week to celebrate ur Bday)

All because you were feeling down about a certain Pavlova Robloxian who always gets hurt.

Pavlova

Ok, with his I have this idea a bit more fleshed out.

He was a weary wanderer in desperate need of help, so, being the kind, empathetic, gullible deity you were, you immediately helped him. Much to Sugarfly's dismay. It is when we get our first sight of obsession. He constantly trailed behind you after that, always trying to get your attention one way or another. Seeing you as a doomed saviour. You only felt happiness; that was the only thing they wrote about you, so you always gave kindness to everyone you met. Even if they were dangerous. Pavlova couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt; he hated it even more when he thought of you on the verge of tears because of someone who took you for granted. He knew you loved to help people and make them happy. It was in your blood. All he did was take advantage of it. He would act like he's hurt when he feels like your attention has gone off him for too long, acting sad until he felt that you gave him enough of your time. When he goes on patrols outside of your garden, he would lead people who are looking for shelter in the garden to dangerous places under the guise of a 'safer route'. When said person got stuck in a dangerous situation, he would bolt to you. Telling you that a poor soul had gotten in a sticky situation and you would fly there immediately, worried about the Robloxian and their mental state. These new additions to your garden and the fact that you saved them helped raise your self-esteem; it made you feel useful and loved. He would do anything to make you happy, even if your emotions were dependent on the people around you. He shoots them with his arrows to make them feel happy. He didn't care if it was morally wrong, if his artificial love making was negitive, as long as you were happy that all that mattered to him. But then, IT happened War broke out between the gods, your people suffered, and you suffered People forgot your teachings of peace. They stole, they fought, they killed Each time they did, a part of you would fade away like the morals they forgot. Sugarfly was scared. Keeping close to you and holding you tight as if you would die if she didn't. Pavlova was enraged. Angry at the world for starting the violence, and angry at your followers for being the reason why you're dying. Letting his emotions get the better of him and unknowingly adding to your pain. You felt a sharp pain in your chest, blooming into something more unbearable each day. It was like your heart was slowly being ripped out. As if your very existence was being torn and shredded. You felt the pains of the Robloxians around you. Robloxians who were scared, hurt, afraid, angry, distraught... You all felt it at once without an inch of happiness. Only sorrow Your once scratchless skin is now littered with cracks of black, your body losing more and more of its colour each day. It had gotten to the point where you couldn't walk, and your two assistants were practically forcing you to stay inside your once grand temple. Sugarfly refused to tell you about the world outside since then, opting to frantically re-read 'your' scriptures over and over again as if her faith could save you. Standing by your bedside daily and catering to your needs, even if you insisted you could do them yourself. Praying to everything in this world that you would stay "Please don't leave, (G/n)! Please! Please..." Pavlova became erratic and unstable, practically becoming a human guard dog who shot anyone who came close. Not that he'd tell you about that, of course. Bloodshed made you feel worse. He's not even near you anymore. He can't stand to see the state those pathetic Robloxians put you in, oh, how he'd love to hurt them like they hurt you. He wished he could, but he didn't. Not when his priorities are to help Sugarfly take care of you. After months of the war, all the gods had died, including you. Your body couldn't bear the weight any longer, and two people couldn't keep your existence stable. You woke up one day to the sounds of Sugarfly screaming, you felt lighter.

Weightless. You didn't notice how she pounced at you with tears in her eyes, you didn't see how she shook you, all you felt was the numbing of your limbs as you turned into dust. .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

IT didn't consider itself to be rude. IT felt as if it were quite the contrary. It didn't know how many years it had been since the end of the divine war. All it knew was that it awoke after the last god fell, when new Robloxians rose above the rest to restore order. It couldn't feel or taste. It couldn't move. All it could do was watch, and watch it did. It looked on as the Robloxians rebuilt civilization in one huge city, and it saw how a Robloxian named Builderman was their leader. How he and his cabinet, whom he dubbed as 'Admins', would make sure all was at peace. It watched as some of these beings found a way to bend reality to their will, writing scripts that would allow them to wreak havoc until an Admin found them. IT got bored, oh so bored. One thing caught their eye, though. A statue of a mysterious figure, clad in a flowy toga with beautiful feathered wings. It saw how only two small Robloxians tended to the area around the statue. IT noticed how dead everything looked, as if the land itself died in a certain spot. IT then learned of the god the statue represented, IT's polar opposite. That's when it had an idea... An idea that would bring it amusement

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

. It had been the third round that day, and everyone was tired. Turns out being maimed more than once can do a number on you. The survivors were going about their break as they would usually do. Elliot was busy watching his pizzas bake in the oven, and Chance was playing a card game with Shedletsky while Builderman and Guest were in the yard outside. Testing out improved machines. 007n7 sat by the small dock overlooking the moat, which practically surrounded the whole lodge. His feet barely grazed against the water as he looked at the unusual object in his hands. Normally, he would be inside, locked up in his room and working on tweaking his GUI, but not today... His son had been, how could he put it, more careful the past few weeks. It started slowly, a small "sorry" when someone was strangled, using less of his so-called tag powers. Then he started to stop "tagging" altogether, even going as far as helping fix the generators. It was a strange change, but a change 007n7 welcomed. That wasn't what lingered in his mind, though; it was what happened during the previous round. His son was sitting in the centre of the map, holding a potted plant in his hands as he kicked his legs. He looked like a child forced to grow up too soon, his skin not growing as fast as his bones. A sight that made 7n7 sick inside every time he looked. It was one of the new habits his son adopted, occasionally placing a potted plant somewhere around the maps. This time was no different. 007n7 walked up to c00lkidd, a weary smile on his face "Hey, kid" c00lkidd excitedly looked up from his plant, jumping up to greet his dad. Even if he was monstrously taller than him. "Dad, DAD, guess what?" That's when his son pulled out a book encased in leather, adorned with a single upside-down rose quartz heart in the centre. "One of my new friends told me to give it to you! Here ya go!" ------------ 007n7 stared contemplatingly at the book in question. It looked old, really old. Its pages were stained with dirt, its color worn and faded. The Robloxian could tell it had been lovingly used as well, even if it didn't look as good as it could have been. He didn't know if he should open it or not, he didn't know what c00lkidd's new 'friend' was and he quite frankly did not want to find out. What if it was a trap made by the spectator to hurt him more? The longer he stared at it, the more he thought, and the more he thought, the more he loosened up. "What could go wrong? 007n7 said to himself as his fingers touched the edge of the book's cover, pausing for a moment before opening up the book. Wincing in anticipation as he reeled himself back; waiting for an unwanted surprise. But nothing came, everything felt normal, leading the retired hacker to open up his eyes. The book was... blank? Empty, not a single word- CRACK He stopped abruptly as his head craned upward, startled and on edge. That's when he heard it, not the voices of an annoyed Elliot holding back a nasty remark, or one of the Admins, but one of a caring, concerned woman. "Are you ok, sir?" Your voice was different, it felt unnatural in a realm like this, and yet here you were. Standing right behind him on the docks; not a single speck of resentment in your eyes.

-Author's notes

Bruh, Tumblr hates me I swear. For the past month I wasn't able to even post because this damn website wouldn't save my drafts, dude. Welp, anyways this turned out to be a whole new fic thing is ready of just and idea drop but hey that's ok.

I will also be working on my TWST story, DW. It's just that Tumblr deleted my 7,000 word draft for it so I'm just gonna rewrite it on google docs so it doesn't get lost to space.

This was not proof read, I am working on a tablet FYI so I might have some typos in there. Sorry if this is ooc, I'm just writing the ideas I got in my head on the spot. I do have a cover up though. Don't I? Since this (y/n) is loosely BASED on esc from crk. Other than that. I hope you have a good day/night.

[thecallofthecrow]

God/Goddess Wrath and You: Why Simple Setbacks AREN'T Revenge for Petty Actions

Here; go read this thread real quick on Reddit:

Done? Cool. Let's have a talk about why you shouldn't freak out about minor setbacks during ritual or even during your daily life from the perspective of a channeler.

"I made my god/dess mad by knocking over a crystal or x object!"

No, you probably didn't. Let's break this down.

I know a lot of baby witches early on, myself included 15 years ago, were ex-Christians and if rural preachers are good at anything it's instilling the fear of the wrath of god. Now, I never took Catholicism very seriously, and the Christian God was never a big figure in my life to begin with because like, structured religion wasn't for me.

Still, there were times when little actions I thought, and according to pastors and preachers, would make big G God mad and make him take it out on me, and I full heartedly believed I was being punished for x reason. This was dumb then, and it's dumb now as a Pagan to think that knocking over a simple crystal or thing on my altar will make my matron or the other deities in my life mad for something so petty and minor.

The Gods are more complex than we give them credit for often. Unlike Catholicism or any other Christian sect (I use Catholicism because that's my area of experience but you can input any sect where applicable), the Gods and Goddesses we worship are far more human and fallible than big G God. Big G God, and this DOES vary sect to sect as I have discussed with a variety of friends over the years, is an omniscient being who can tell everything you did, think, or feel.

Sometimes he'll be mad for one of the seven deadly sins you commit, whether actively or by accident or instinct. Sometimes you didn't pray right. Christians have very specific sets of rules sometimes (sect to sect etc.) that dictate how they must do certain things. Some Pagan circles have that too. But the fact of the matter is, and you can take this from someone who has been here for awhile, and you can even take this if your a Christian struggling with their faith who just so happened to stumble across a witchcraft blog, it's not as big a deal as you make it if you fuck up.

As a channeler, who has Goddesses constantly in and out, they don't really like, care about the structure of the practice as much as they care about the intent. This is a rule of magicks as well. As long as you fuckin' like, try you'll probably be fine. Gods know I've fucked up prayers or rituals and no one has smote me yet. And my matron is a death Goddess, who, despite what other followers may tell you, is fairly chill with me. She doesn't get angry as long as I'm doing what she wants me to do or at least trying. If I knock over her bell via human error, she'll probably just be happy it made the good sound as it fell over. I don't think she's gonna kill me out of some implied disrespect for something so simple as human error.

2. "Oh no! The candle won't like no matter WHAT I DO! CLEARLY the Gods are angry!"

Bruh. Okay, let me explain something real quick.

You know that wax that melts as the candle burns? You know, the stuff that keeps the wick from just sizzlin' up like a well done steak (what is wrong with you) on a 103 degree (Fahrenheit because I'm a stupid American) day in the middle of summer in Florida?

Yeah, that wick can fold over while cooling down and get stuck in hardened wax, or bend while the fire of your lighter is melting the wax while trying to light the wick itself. In my previous post I don't think I mentioned this (see Last Ritual in This House, elsewhere on the blog) but I had a candle that didn't want to light.

Instinctively I thought, "Oh, maybe someone's mad" before I realized the other white candle lit perfectly without issue. Now this candle is a big fuckin' candle and the wick is very tiny. There's plenty of room for that wick to bend. And guess what? After closer investigation, I realized that's exactly what was going on. So I dug my dagger into the candle (which we'll get to) and lifted the wick out of the melted wax I had created by trying to uselessly light the wick, and aside from some laughter from the situation from one of the Goddesses present (probably Crow Mama) it lit perfectly and stayed burning the entire ceremony. No one was mad, no one was angry, this wasn't some wrathful thing for something I had done wrong. It was a natural occurrence, and nothing to freak over.

Candles can also act up based on air flow, and various other things. As you'll see on /r/Pagan (which is most of the time my outside-of-Tumblr location interaction with fellow members of the path; if you see me say hi, I won't bite) most little incidents like this are based on naturally occurring sources, not deity wrath.

3. "Oh no! I used the wrong chant/incantation/prayer/tool for x! My God/dess is gonna be pissed!"

I covered this earlier on, but unless you're in a closed practice or coven with very strict rules, you're fine. An Morrigan (also known as Na Morrigan but we'll get to this, stay with me here) knows I've fucked up prayers and chants and rituals and nothing bad happened to me. Your Gods are more chill than you give them credit for, unless they're actively assholes about it in which case, fair play. But like the post I linked said; "Your deity is not your abusive boyfriend." A little tiny infraction that is mostly in your head isn't gonna incur more than a bit of a temporary freak out, unless those circumstances I listed earlier are at play, in which I can't help you. Ask a coven member or someone more experienced to help you not fuck up next time if you're in those scenarios.

Look, the point I'm trying to get to here at the core of this post is thus;

The Gods are not high school cliques levels of petty, my friend. No one is gonna disown you for failing to meet a certain requirement or flubbing a prayer. Your Goddess isn't going to drag you to the Otherworld for fucking up. I've had more instances of the Goddesses I work with helping me than hindering me, because they aren't mean and scary and evil. Most of the ones I've worked with care more that you at least tried. That's fairly consistent across most open practices. Some of the God/desses have certain anathema. That's a big scary word for "shit you probably shouldn't do." Just know how they work and don't freak out if you accidentally do something wrong, because they got better shit to do than give you a big scolding because "oh no you didn't do x thing y way, you're going in the kill box."

Even Death God/desses tend to be chill as far as I've experienced? I mean I've got one as my matron and as long as I listen to her and try she's more than cool. Sometimes she's like, "sorry bub, gotta be Sovereign and do this yourself" but that's the worst it gets. Well, there's also the tests but that's the Morrigan for ya. Which leads me to...

4. "Am I using the right name/title/whatever for my God/dess? What if they get mad if I don't use it right?"

I'm in a special place to tell you that it doesn't fuckin' matter depending on the origin of your deity, the language used to refer to them, or something along those lines.

As an example, my matron has SEVERAL names, up to like, 5 and with her title specifically (the Morrigan) there's "the Morrigan," "Na Morrigan," and "An Morrigan."

There's more, but that's getting lost in the weeds. But from my channelings I've known that she's pretty chill with whatever and it's mostly other followers that will give you shit because they're no fun and that's why I'm not in a coven. Don't let someone else tell you what to call your God/dess when you and your deity have a special relationship that is unique to you and them. That's all of us; there isn't one way a God/dess will treat you.

I mean for fuck's sake, half the time when referring to the Morrigan I call her "Crow Mama" and she thinks that's hilarious. She's not insulted, she's not gonna kill me, and through my posts where I try to get her words filtered through my weak human mind she's even called it adorable. I use official titles when I want to be serious, but that's more or less it. The Morrigan is kinda also a questionable name in the first place given she's a triple Goddess in the first place, but again, we're getting lost in the weeds. Just because you don't refer to your god as, "Great X, Creator of Y, Champion of Z." Most of them don't care if you have a nickname for them (though I'm careful with Brigid just because of our relationship thus far). Plus, if you aren't a native to the region they're from in the first place, or speak the language they speak, there is an approximate 0% chance you'd say it in a way that they would actually appreciate, and also depending on how obscure your deity is (Adsagsona for example), YOU AREN'T GOING TO KNOW THE RIGHT TITLE. So relax, no one's gonna get mad.

IN SUMMATION

Just relax. Your deities aren't Old Testament God who will smite you or turn you into a pillar of sand for doing x thing wrong. You're human. You will make mistakes. Learn from them, keep them in your mind, and recall for next time.

And if you're thinking I'm crazy, you can read that thread and see several other people say the exact fuckin' same thing I'm saying, and a lot of them have been practicing a lot longer than I have.

The best thing to remember as a baby witch in a new path with like, following Apollo or something is to learn as much as you can and give yourself grace. It's a new journey, and there are bound to be errors. Give yourself the grace the Gods give you.

To all the baby witches out there, Kuro

[celestiaphia]

My Ritual for Offerings and Prayers

Simple Version - Full Version

I got a lot of positive feedback when I mentioned writing a post about my own practices so here it is! Please keep in mind this is all about my own practice, this is not reconstructed, historically accurate, or required for anyone to do it like I do it. Hopefully this will inspire others to share their practices. If you have questions about anything, feel free to message me. 

How I Created my Ritual

Before I go over the specific ritual I follow I want to talk about how I created them. Some of it is influenced by reconstructed hellenic polytheism but the majority of it I created over time as I added things, took things away, and found what worked for me.

When I first tried creating a ritual to fit myself, I asked myself what giving an offering means to me. At the most basic level I decided an offering means inviting the Gods into my home as guests. With that in mind, I could use the idea of Xenia, hospitality, to shape my ritual. I don’t know if this is commonly how other people treat it, but it’ll be obvious how important it is in my ritual and it’s important enough to me that I wanted to specifically call it out.

Formality in ritual is incredibly important to me. I believe that formality and ritual is valuable for strictly defining a difference between the sacred and the profane. It allows for a deeper experience with the Gods. I typically do free form prayer along with my offerings, but with some Gods I do give more informal prayers without ritual or offering - it depends on my connection with the God. 

I also want to note - this process is pretty long and involved and I am hoping to make a quick and more minimalist version that both meets my requirements for ritual and doesn’t require so many steps. Even if this altogether takes only 10 minutes, it feels like a lot and I am hoping to find a ritual process that I can do quicker so I can do it more often. 

My Steps for Offering

1. Preparation - I get everything I need for the ritual. I don’t want to have to leave my altar in the middle because I forgot my lighter! I also make sure my altar is clean and I’ve set up any art I may be using. I currently use tarot cards or other art cards as a stand in for statues and a way to help me focus on a specific deity.

2. Ritual Cleansing - Ritual cleansing is important to me not necessarily because of a strong believe in lyma/miasma but because it’s a special process to tell myself this is a special time. It’s a way for me to focus  my attention on this moment, and mentally transition myself into the space for worship. Ritual cleansing for me could be a shower, washing my hands, or using khernips. I’ve done all of the above and sometimes one feels more necessary than the other. Lately I’ve been using khernips more since it’s ritual heavy and, I love ritual!

3. Put on a Veil - This is the newest step in my ritual and it’s in “beta” phase. After cleansing, I put on a full head veil. Thus far that means - putting up a hood on a jacket/hoodie. I haven’t invested in a unique veil yet but I do plan to. I’ll be making a detailed post about what veiling means to me in the future and if I remember I’ll link the post here. 

4. Light My Altar Candle - I can’t use incense, so instead I light a candle. This is a candle I only use when I am giving an offering or praying at my alter, never for any other purpose. This allows it to be another way of making this time/space sacred; lighting the candle signals this is a ritual, sacred space. This step originally came from the practice in Hellenic Polytheism of the hearth, and the first offering being given to Hestia, but I don’t always pray to/give first offering to Hestia. Nonetheless, in her own way she gets rep at my alter with the candle!

4.5. Grounding in the Moment - This is not a step I always do, it depends on how I feel but at this point I will sometimes pause to close my eyes and take a few breaths to ground me in the moment, to mentally focus before I speak. 

5. Invite the God(s) to My Altar - “(God’s name), I ask you to join me at my altar as I offer and pray to you,” or if I’m offering to more than one god, “Dear Gods, I ask you to join me...” - I may word this differently since though I have formal steps, my wording is all done on the fly. In the spirit of Xenia, viewing the Gods as my guests, my first real step in the offering is to invite them in. I believe this is a good way to get the God’s attention before I give my offering. 

6. Give the Offering - My most common offering by far is a libation of water. (Why Water is not a Lazy Offering) I will pour the water from whatever holding vessel I’ve used into my special libation glass. While giving the libation I say: “I offer to you this libation. May it please you and bring you joy.” If I’m offering something else, of course I won’t say “this libation” I’ll specify whatever I’m offering. If I’m giving multiple offerings like libation and food, then I’ll call out each one separately.  

7. Prayer - Give Thanks - I thank the God for anything they have recently done for me, or generally for their existence and what they’ve done in my life. It’s incredibly important to me to offer my thanks every time and especially before I have any requests to make in prayer. The prayer sections of my ritual are the most freeform, it will depend on the god I’m praying to. Some I will give a short prayer of thanks, and others I will go on for a while, listing the many things they have done for me, thanking them for what they have brought to me in my life. I am speaking from my heart when I do this - I do not give thanks because I have to but because it’s something I am truly thankful for. 

8. Prayer - Supplication/Request - This is an optional part of the prayer. If this is my first time praying to a specific deity I will almost never make a request of them, since I believe it’s rude to ask them for something when we have not built any kharis (built a relationship) between each other. An initial prayer to a God is to invite them in as my guest, give them an offering, thank them for coming - and that’s it. This may also be optional if I don’t have anything to ask the specific God for or if for some reason it doesn’t feel appropriate to me to ask for anything.

Just like giving thanks, this section will be mostly freeform, but there is one part of praying for things that I do very specifically. Before I ask for anything I say, “If it would pleases you” or “if the fates will it” or something to that effect - signaling that though I ask for this, I know that I am not guaranteed it and it ultimately is up to the god if they choose to do it for me. It’s important to me to signify that I know the Gods do not owe me anything, that I cannot expect anything from them - not that they are cruel and wouldn’t do that, but that they are not vending machines who I can give offerings to and get something from.

A request could be as simple as “If it would please you, I pray that you guide me to be more like you” (in prayer to Athena for wisdom) or it could be more complex, talking about a problem I’m going through, and praying for specific help and guidance through it. Since this is a freeform prayer, sometimes it does not always follow either the pattern of thanks then request - but I do generally try to give thanks first , then request, then I can speak as freely as I wish to the God. 

9. Repeat Steps 6 - 8 as Needed - If I am praying to multiple gods, then my offering/prayers are done uniquely for each God. Each step could be as long as short as I want it to be, but the most simple example of giving to multiple Gods would look like this:

“I pour this libation to Hermes” (Pour small amount of water) “Thank you Hermes for all that you do in my life.  If it pleases you I pray that you continue to help me with my job. Thank you. Now I pour this libation to Athena” (pour water again) “Thank you Athena for all you do in my life...” and so forth

Because of the amount of detail I put into my ritual, if I’m praying to more than 3 Gods I generally make the prayer sections very short. If there are Gods for whom I want to give longer prayers - then those are typically the ones I will offer and worship to exclusively, to give them special offerings and time all their own. Otherwise it gets to be too much. 

9.5 Meditation - Another optional step, I have some prayer beads I will use to meditate with at my alter and focus on the God/Gods and generally let myself experience whatever I am feeling  as I am in this sacred space. This may lead to me making more prayers as feelings come up or may be as simple as me taking a few breaths as I think on the Gods. I don’t always do this but just like grounding helps me enter the ritual, I think doing the same as the ritual is ending is helpful. 

10. Closing the Ritual - To close the ritual, I first thank the God(s) for joining me. I’ll say something like: “Thank you (God’s name)/Gods for joining me at my alter. I pray that the offerings pleased you and that you will join me again in my home.” After this I will snuff out my candle and remove my veil if I was wearing one. I don’t have any opinion on blowing out vs snuffing out a candle,  but I have a candle snuffer so I do use that. 

Minor Details

Where do I put my hands? As someone who was raised Christian, it’s almost instinct  for me to put my hands together in prayer. Sometimes I do pray this way. Sometimes I pray with my hands open and facing up for Olympic Gods, or facing down for Cthonic Gods. I try to use the second one more than the first - but I don’t judge myself if habit of putting my hands together kicks in. I try to remember that intention is what matters most of all. 

What does my altar look like?  Here is a recent post with pictures and details of my altar. Here is a picture of my altar after a ritual. (I chose to leave the candle lit for the picture.) This is a picture of my altar from 3 years ago, and an even earlier picture of my altar. This will hopefully help people see that altars don’t always start so full and pretty! Seriously, my first altar was a cardboard box I had covered in fabric. We do the best with what we have available to us. 

How long do I leave out my offerings? I used to remove my offerings immediately after giving them because otherwise I was afraid I would forget them. I’ve started leaving them for longer, but it does end up being an issue still if I do forget them. Ideally I would remove them 24 - 48 hours later, and no longer than that. I feel leaving them for some time afterwards helps to symbolize that I am continuing to honor the Gods even when I am away from my altar.

How often do I give offerings/prayers? Due to my current living situation, my adhd and other mental health issues, and because of how complicated my ritual process is, I don't give offerings and prayers formally with this ritual as often as I'd like. I aim for once a week, but a more realistic answer is every two week to once a month. I do set goals for myself, but loosely. If I miss a goal, I remind myself I can do it again the next day or week, and that it's not a failure. There's a lot going on in our lives (especially this past year 2020). I don't give up if I miss a week, and know I can always do it whenever I have time next.

This is why I hope to make a quicker and simpler version of my ritual in the future, and when I do I will make a post for it as well.

Where do you get items for your altar? When I am able, I do buy unique items from Etsy, and a few items on my altar were gifts, but for the most part a LOT of the items on my altar were gotten from Good Will and other thrift shops! i recommend thrifting because it’s affordable, environmentally friendly, and allows for creativity. For example, I made devotional jars to some Gods using tiny spice jars from the thrift store, glitter, and little items representative of the Gods. 

[seancekitsch]

Intended: Chapter 1

Warnings: uhhhhh slight witcher spoilers??? yearning bullshit, kidnapping, implied canon things that happen when an army sacks a city, none of my usual smutty bullshit?

“Do you think we would be like this?” Cahir mumbles, his lips pressed against your shoulder as you watch the smoke from the fire drift into a starless sky. He embraces you around the waist, as close as he can have you. As much as you are the object of all of his affections, he knows that you are something from a dream and nothing he ever thought he could have. As a child, he dreamed of being a great knight, a relic from the stories he’d read, chivalrous and true of heart, winning the favor of a lovely woman and leading his men into noble battles for causes that are just. Earning honor on his name.

“Mmm, what do you mean by that?” you hum, snuggling closer into his embrace on the bedroll, loving how he feels warmer than the fire you'd made, warmer than even the hearth in your chambers in Cintra, the home you'd been rescued from during its burning. You'd been on the run when Cahir in his mighty helmet had found you in your attempt at escape and brought you out of the chaos. He had saved you, and now treated you with the most chivalry as you traveled, on foot because his horse had been lost, to an out skirting kingdom you could start over in. You spent the week learning each other, your fears, your innermost desires, dreams you'd never shared with anyone. Felt more yourself than you ever did in Cintra. While your family fretted that you'd never make a wife, to imagine their faces now as you'd found someone you would easily marry. Your family. If only they were still here.

“Do you think we would be like this,” he says, his lips brushing against you again, “had I not captured you?”

Cahir lifts his head as soon as the words leave his mouth, seemingly recognizing his error immediately.

You rip yourself from his embrace, jumping to your feet as he quickly follows, scrambling to a stand in confusion as you fume. You find a pace, your gait that of any warlord he’s seen, wild and quick. You mutter under your breath, not quite believing what you heard but repeating it to yourself over and over until you whirl around on your heel. You round back to him with anger in your tone as you shout your summation.

“Captured? Pardon me did you say captured? As in, not rescued like you've had me believe for the past week?” Your voice was shrill, and of course you had caught his slip up. Your hands shake as you speak, refusing to look up at his fucking face. The face of a liar. Of course you had. You are sharp as a whip and he had learned this week it was best not to lie to you, unfortunately the entire nature of the events that had brought you together were a lie crafted by Cahir on the fly. Cahir that had guided you out of the piles of bodies, the debris and the destruction. Cahir who told you he was safe, not like the other Nilfgaardians burning your city. Cahir who had given you the contents of his canteen and had stolen a bedroll to sleep on so he would be the only one to sleep on the ground. Cahir that had listened to you as you told him of all of your secrets, things only revealed to a diary that was now probably nothing more than ash. Cahir who taught you how to use the dagger you shared, the man who praised you and was excited at the progress you made in a short week. Cahir that promised you a sword once you mastered the dagger. Cahir that you had stolen a kiss from, and then continued to kiss and kiss and kiss while you traveled further east, hoping to come upon a new home in an allied kingdom. Cahir that had apparently lied to you the whole time. Stolen the kisses you thought you had stolen, reveled in affection that would not have been given to a captor.

“Did you capture me, Cahir? That was my home you stole me from!”

He hesitates, then mumbles. Refusing to meet you in gaze and in words. He bows his head, like a man praying for forgiveness for a grave sin. Like a man at the altar at his most desperate hour. You now realize that sin is yourself, you are stolen and every moment he spent with you was coveting of something he could not possess himself. He took what wasn't his and dared to spit into the wind and the wind blew your intuition back to the forefront to see him for what he truly is.

“Speak, knight! I know you aren't mute you've done a fair share of moving that tongue since I’ve met you.” your eyes burn holes into his skin, and when he looks up into them it's like looking into hell itself, but he would rather blind himself than look away. Before you is not the man you’d tasted in kisses and between baring your soul talking until dawn the entire week you'd been in the woods. Before you is a villain, a wretch who did not give you the dignity of dying in your home, the dignity of fighting to the death with whatever you'd find once you were eventually cornered. Truthfully, to die in battle seemed like a nice way to die, to die with bloodied hands and passion alight beneath your skin.

“I did, I stole you away,” his voice is ragged, panicked, you've never heard it like this, “but you were not who I meant to take.”

“So you meant to kidnap someone? And should that comfort me? Bring me joy that I was not the intended target?” You’re right. That isn't comforting at all. Instead of completing his quest he steals the first woman he sees near the castle who’s not clearly a terrified peasant. What a mess he’s made of his knighthood. He refuses to meet your eyes as he nods, still downcast eyes into the fire beside you.

“I should not have. I just did not want to let you die.”

Cahir pursued the billow of skirts that trailed behind the form in the alley. Could this be the Princess Cirilla? Had he truly gotten this lucky to find her so easily? He chases on foot, abandoning his horse at the mouth of the alley he’d spotted her ducking into.  As the form turns a corner, so does he, hot on the trails of his perceived target. But the woman he pursues surprises him. She turns on her heel, and armed with a letter opener decorated with jewels, she lunges at him, swinging wildly as a feral tears from her throat. As he  dodges her efforts, he realizes this is not Cirilla. This is a woman; a noblewoman, one with fire and courage at that. She’s beautiful. He admires her immediately, even though she has a lot to learn about handling a blade.

“Watch it with that, you will stab me if you aren't careful,” he jests, removing his helmet as he moves from her swinging range.

“And who says” she lunges again, “I don't want to stab you?”

She wont go down without a fight, but is a fight something she could handle? No. certainly not against his men. She doesn't stand a chance. She won't make it out of here, he realizes. With what his men do to women. No. She does not deserve that fate. He could bring her in Cirilla’s place, he thinks. Whatever Nilfgaard needs her for, they need her alive and healthy. They would take care of her, even if her identity was false.

“You will not want to stab me if you want to make it out of here alive, I’m your only chance,” Cahir blurts out, before he can think about the weight of his words. Looking back here he realizes that he threw away any chance in finding the real Cirilla, any chance at not being tortured and executed if his deceit would be found for a woman whose name he did not know at the time. A woman who was swinging a blade at him, howling like a cornered animal. He leads you out of the city in the shadows that night, pilfering some supplies he can find before you make it past the walls of the now engulfed Cintra. Something about that night had clouded his judgement, changed him, but he did not yet understand why that was so. He did not even understand it when he kept up the charade of savoir, taking her east instead of south to where he would be rewarded for the imposter Cirilla.

“I demand the dagger,” you state, hand outstretched and conviction firm. He blinks up at you in confusion. To Cahir, you look like a blazing angel, the light of the fire making your hair resemble a halo. He would hand over the dagger, and should you wish to plunge it into his chest he would not move a hand to stop or delay you. He sighs as he relinquishes the one dagger to you, the only form of protection, your fingers brushing his as your grasp curls around it, a transfer of power and the last touch of your skin he may ever feel. His hand chases yours involuntarily, ever so slowly. You do not trust him anymore. You are not his to touch.

“I also demand the bedroll. We shall not share.” Not like we did last night hangs silently between you and he, and he silently concedes that to you as well. 

“In the morning, I’ll be gone. Do not attempt to search for me.”

“Please, don’t go,” his voice is weak, far away and parchment thin. Walking away from him will be hard, you realize. Knowing everything he told you… the kind of man he is. But also that he lied to you. He lied about your circumstances and interfered with your life. No, you must be strong. You must leave before dawn. If he wakes before you there’s still a chance you would fall into his arms and concede to this fate. You must stay cold. He is no different that all of the intended men you had turned down in the courts of Cintra. He was not a marriage prospect, like the lot of them were not suitable. Man after man you had rejected, scorned, and he will be just another. He will fade away soon like the others.

You tuck the dagger into the bedroll with you under the thin sheet, wrapping it around yourself as you lay down, facing him. He taught you never to turn your back on an enemy, and you guess he probably isn't the only person to say that so there probably is some truth to it. Sleep finds you soon after a half hour of forcing your eyes closed, but it always did in times of stress. Your body seems to know what you need more than you do, and right now its rest for the journey ahead. You slip downward quickly into a night as dreamless as the sky is starless tonight.

Cahir sits at the fire, staring into it, looking for clues, answers, the already fading memory of what it felt like to have you in his arms and have you kiss his face. Already, it slips from him. he steals glances to you every few minutes, to make sure his mind isn't playing tricks on him, to make sure you aren't already gone. You look peaceful, angelic in the same way you did when screaming at him but an hour earlier; the same way you did in the alley swinging a letter opener at his face. If only he could lay down next to you, to sleep peacefully. Had he known last night was his last beside you, he would have savored it more. Buried his face in your hair, held you tighter, kissed your eyelids and tried to will himself into your dreams. Everything feels heavy, as he fights to stay awake, resolving that to go without sleep is better than to sleep cold, without the feeling of you in his arms. If he has to, he won’t sleep ever again. To spare his heart. Now that he knows what it means to sleep with another, to sleep with you by his side, sleeping alone seems like a fate worse than whatever might greet him in Nilfgaard when he returns empty handed. Cahir doesn't notice falling asleep, he’s too consumed in his thoughts.

When Cahir wakes up back aching, the fire is dead and you are gone.

[aki-draws-things]

Ok, so.. The not yet finished summary of Immortal Lost. I'll probably add details or change things here and there. Summaries exist because I will most certainly forget things. Anyway.

Feel free to drop ideas to fill the gaps ~ fill free to grab them away from all the angst I'm going to dump on them. (or maybe no. Let them suffer together). Feel free to drop ideas to make it more angsty and make this mouse happy~~

Will I find a sense in this idea by the end of the week?

Beginning - past - set one or two generations after yin metal

- young nie mingjue, with his family, one younger brother, two older sisters. His father have the ancestral tomb made for the sabers after they had to fight the angry spirits. He dies against one of the spirits and his saber is the first to be laid officially in the tomb. Out of everyone he develops a closer bond with his saber when, during a battle, he hides in a cave in the mountain, wounded, and there he meets what he first believe was a goddess. (but in truth it was just baxia, chilling away from the demon's realm because it was too noisy.)

- immortality is gained through cultivation. He learned to control the saber spirit, who becomes baxia in the end, qi deviations still occurs, but when they happen he hides in the cave, Baxia guides him through control, that's the only place where she can take a physical form, though not for long.

- the cave was one of the places where the divide between dimension is thinner, hiding in the cave, both the first time and after, he absorbed the energy of the place, both from the demon's realm and from the heavens. It's in a mountain close to the unclean realm, something that will later pass on the legend as a celestial mountain.

- after many years, after his brother and sisters died, he leaves Qinghe in the hands of a nephew and travels the world until his name becomes somehow a legend (he uses an alias, different names and such, he's tired.), the one nie who achieved immortality. The one who ascended to godhood. People around Qinghe starts to pray to him for protection, especially in battle for protection. After travelling long and far he always returns to the cave only to find that someone not only managed to find it but built a small shrine even. He sets a spell on it, so that it's way harder to find the actual place but still allows people to reach the shrine and pray, he won't take it from his people, but won't let them disrupt his peace either.

- from time to time, over the next years, he finds ways and strategies to return to the unclean realm when the Nie sect is most in need, looking younger or sometimes even different (as a God he can change his look, though he's quite fond of his original one.) to help them or even lead them again for a while, if needed. (only the elders are aware of who he really is, at least during the first times, later he will keep it secret and roll with nie zhenxiang's idea, in present years.) he's not sure he qualifies as a good God for them, there are others far more benevolent than someone wielding a saber with a demon spirit inside, but it's Qinghe that decided for him.

Past, in between.

- it's during one of these times, while acting as sect leader because the actual one is a 5yo child, that he meets the future chief cultivator wen ruohan. He looks young at the time, passing as an older cousin for the actual leader and taking control because of his young age, participating in a competition where he defeats wen ruohan eldest brother and is later introduced as sect leader. (poor baby ruohan was so enchanted that he managed to trip right against him and feel embarrassed for years for that being their official first meeting.)

- [I don't know exactly how things happens in between halp] wen ruohan, being the youngest is less pressured at fighting or ruling position and he's more of a scholar, asking sect leader Nie (of who he doesn't know the actual name) to teach him everything he knows, spacing from history, military strategies, fighting styles. Everything. Sometimes sect leader Nie disappear for weeks and months, for battles, but never allows wen ruohan to follow.

- a battle happens, years after the first meeting, wen ruohan is supposed to fight with his older brother and ask if sect leader Nie would help them. But Qinghe too needs protection. So they part ways until young ruohan realizes that theory fighting is different from actual one, a real battle is gruesome and hard and dangerous, in ways he wouldn't imagine.

- he wakes up after being wounded away from the battlefield, in a shrine in the mountains, covered in silver furs to protect him from the cold. There's a man in the shrine, with frost on his hair and robes and still not shivering one bit. And oh no! It's sect leader Nie! Right when he was starting to believe his crush couldn't get any worse!

- quick think, ruohan. Quick think. Make him think you're dead! Okay, no, I said quick, not stupid. Unconscious. Still unconscious. Oh fuck. Was he always so... SO? Ruohan no! Okay, maybe a little peaking --- oh, fuck me! Well, he probably wouldn't --- ugh! Ruohan shut up!

- anyway, that is the moment Wen Ruohan realizes (his crush definitely won't disappear) nie mingjue is in fact not human and decides to keep the secret for himself if he trains him more. Of course nie mingjue was already training h, and doesn't take his request as a threat, knowing that wen ruohan won't simply go and tell the world, and anyway, who would really believe him?

- so wen ruohan learns and grow, following nie mingjue (who still hasn't told him the name a d that's getting quite annoying, right?) as a shadow, growing closer and closer to him, falling more and more in love until he can't be rejected anymore because he throws himself on mingjue. Things don't exactly change after, much to ruohan's disappointment, but he starts to notice the little gestures from mingjue that somehow escaped his attention.

- [something in between probably, I don't know... More angst? Do we want more angst? A bit of Immortal angst?] until a bigger battle, something that unites the main Sects again against a common enemy. In the end it seems like wen ruohan is killed, dying while nie mingjue is trying to get him out of the battlefield and somewhere safe. He tells him his name then, his real name, probably regretting not doing it sooner. And then, then control snaps. He let baxia's howls reach the surface and doesn't try to hold her back, merging witb the saber spirit.

- the enemy is defeated, it stood little chance against a very angry immortal with a demon spirit howling in his mind. But he can't subdue her again, he doesn't want to. For years and years he had been good, righteous and kind, he deserves to let anger out, but when it does it explodes. So the sects unites again to stop him, they kill him, or so they think, and leave. Many soldiers and generals are lost against his power, included the wen sect leader.

- since wen ruohan wasn't actually dead, once he recovers he takes the role of leader, role he never wanted, he refuses to believe mingjue really did that, his mingjue. He gets angry at whoever calls him a demon, he let slip that a God such as him cannot be a demon. And he tries to reach for the shrine, only to find it empty, the statue that once was there gone, with only dust and ashes, the altar broken on half. He makes a new one, and light an incense stick and prays, but no one appears and after a while he stops going there too. (he doesn't see people beginning to return to the shrine though, with offerings and prayers.)

Present times

- meeting nie zhenxiang had been an accident, or perhaps fate decided it was time for him to return to the mortal realm. Nie zhenxiang is a capable man and leader, smart to know who he really is, a direct descendant from MingJue's original family, and a curious one. He claims to have had a thing with yue huangshui, and it's true, they use that thing to make people believe mingjue is his son and justify his absence until then. He doesn't use his real name but goes as Nia xiá (or something combined. Still o want to keep the character for afterglow), it was both part of the name his brother had and the name he used with wen ruohan, a call back to the sun symbol of the wen sect. (his regrets at not being able to protect him are what caused him to stay away from the mortal realm and the shrine at first.)

- he fits in the new family really fast and well, huaisang never question if he's really his brother or not, he looks at him once and declare he's his dage. Soon disciples of Qinghe and the other sects stop questioning where he comes from and all and just accept nie xiá as the new heir.

- in between something else happened. Wen ruohan, keeping his role as sect leader and, to popular knowledge, immortal (not yet, he once would say, quite shily, but that's his goal.) and chief cultivator, well respected by everyone, got his hands on yin metal. At first it wasn't for power. He never believe mingjue to be dead and even if he stopped going to the shrine he still searched for him. The yin metal promised, in a seductive voice, to help him find the one he desperately searched for, and he believed him. He didn't change right away, but the yin metal is malicious and twisted promises into what it wants. To be whole again, to rule over them. And wen ruohan slowly gets twisted into the one they all want to fight. (he has two sons, his wife dying giving birth to wen chao, he loved her, and still had these doubts because what if he found the one he loved before? She's a replacement, but still he loves her.)

- meanwhile nie mingjue grows in the Nie sect and finds new friends in the lan heir, xichen. He doesn't want to love someone, burned by what happened once. Still he gets close and shares a bond stronger than he felt in years. Somehow they don't work out, lan xichen is great but there are so many secrets mingjue keeps from him that they decides that being friends, instead of engaged, is better, for both of them. Huaisang is upset by that, he wanted them to be together because they looked perfect, but no. Dage had to go and declare being friends was better.

- until at a conference he meets officially the other sect leaders. And especially sect leader wen. A man, young and undeniably pretty, with two sons, with the same name, and characters, of the one he lost. But wen ruohan, his ruohan, died many years before, he died in his arms, and nie mingjue remembered that moment very clearly. This leader seems just as taken back as he is, staring at him with wide eyes, frozen mid-bow and then mumbling that he reminded him of someone he knew as an apology.

- this wen ruohan, mingjue finds out, is very different from the one he knew, convincing him even more that it's just a weird chance. He's strong, he likes fights and he's hunger for power is something that would've never crossed his ruohan's mind. But mingjue changed too, he had left baxia spirit in charge for long, he didn't want to deal with mortals anymore and she was a good replacement, but baxia is a demon, and while not being as bloodthirsty as the others she's still a demon.

- [more things in between. Mistakes, accidents incomprehensions. nie zhenxiang is actually killed, indirectly, by wen ruohan. I just need to define things better]

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Astraea

Pairing: Peter Parker x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: some angst, mentions of capture and torture, swearing, hella fluff

They made a twisted Nyx out of his beautiful Astraea. She was once sweet and innocent--all-too-pure for this world and far too connected to people’s emotions. And now? Now, she seemed to be the opposite.

Peter looks at his girl, the one who changed so much, and thinks of how she used to be.

Soft cotton dress. Softer skin. Messy, wind-blown hair and sun-kissed skin. She is the picture of sweet to Peter. His fingers reach out, graze her bare shoulder and trail down her arm until he reaches her fingers, and he laces them together. The beach was perfect, yes, but his girl was even better. He notices the freckles that dot her skin, wants to spend hours laying next to her and count each one, memorize every line and scar and freckle and fuck, he’s in love. He’s so in love.

Soft cotton dress. Even softer kiss. Her lips brush his, the lightness making him feel as though he’s on cloud nine. She smiles against him and she lets out a soft giggle while she lays back and lets the sunlight drench her skin like she’s parched and it’s water.

She’s soft, soft, soft. His beautiful Astraea, with the cute sundresses and messy hair and bare-skin. His beautiful goddess. Too pure for this world.

“Don’t look so spooked, Peter,” She says, tilting her head to the side. This is still (Y/N), but he doesn’t seem to recognize what HYDRA has done to her. She wears skin-tight dark denim jeans over a lacey bodysuit, a cropped leather jacket on her shoulders and four-inch heels adorning her feet. Her hair is pin-straight and one side of it is slicked back with gel. She wears dark, sultry makeup. Black liner. Plum lips. She is no longer his Astraea, but now she is Nyx. A goddess still, but one of the night.

“What did they do to you?” He asks, the words spilling before he can think to stop himself. She throws her head back and laughs, but it isn’t the soft and sweet candy-like laugh she used to have. It’s more like a bark, like a wolf about to attack.

Perhaps why that’s why they had started calling her the Midnight Wolf (although he knows damn well that’s not why).

“Oh, baby, trust me. They did me a favor,” She says, her lip curling in a snarl as she brings her head back down. She stalks toward him, one excruciatingly slow step at a time. Heels clack harshly on the asphalt, her hands going to her pockets casually, her chin tilts up slightly so she looks down on him.

Peter hates this. Not knowing what she’s going to do or what she’ll say. He hated not knowing her anymore. His Astraea was gone and replaced by something much different.

“I can practically smell the fear, baby,” She says, reaching out with her right hand and straightening the collar of his shirt. He swallows thickly. He nearly forgot that she was in-tune with emotions. Sensing them, manipulating them, you name it; she can do it. He wonders what else HYDRA taught her. “A little bit of an angry lust in there, too, but that isn’t important.”

“What did they do to you?” He asked, this time with confidence in his voice. Her face, once relaxed and even slightly playful, quickly twisted in anger as she wrapped her hand around his throat.

“They helped me.” A quick-release, and Peter finds his feet on the ground once more. Hands instinctually go to his neck and he looks to her in surprise, but the look she gives him is unreadable.

And as soon as their little meeting had started, it was over. Tony came up behind her and placed a needle in her neck, and she was thrown over his shoulder.

“Good work, kid. Are you okay?”

Peter can only nod as he walks ahead of his father-figure. It was a set-up. Bait. The Avengers knew that if there was any shred of (Y/N) left in there, she would come back to him.

They held (Y/N) captive at the tower. Figuring it was the safest space to keep her, she stayed in the lab--Tony’s orders. She was covered from head to toe, and when others were in the room, she had to wear a blindfold. They weren’t aware, however, that nobody would be safe from her emotional manipulation.

Peter came to see her just over two weeks later. (Y/N) could tell that it was him from the way he walked--small paces, light, rounded steps, a smooth heel-to-toe that meant he was wearing his normal sneakers rather than the boots that Steve would wear.

She looked vulnerable. Blindfold covered eyes that messed up her once-perfectly-styled hair. Her clothes were her’s from her room in the tower, but they didn’t look like they quite belonged. (Y/N) was always soft, soft, soft.

And now she was rough, rough, rough.

“Nice of you to stop by, baby,” She says, a smile pulling at her lips. Peter could almost mistake it for genuine emotion. Almost. “I missed you.”

Peter sits at the seat positioned next to her door, looking through the wall of glass to see his cotton-y soft girlfriend looking tattered and sewn back together.

“Something tells me you don’t,” He responds, his voice having very little confidence.

“Oh, baby, I really did. Just a shame I can’t see you.”

A wave of guilt passes through him, and Peter can’t tell if it’s from him or her. He furrows his eyebrows but stands to look at the look on the door. “FRIDAY, open her door,” Peter orders. (Y/N) smiles and moves to stand up, waiting for her love at the door.

Yeah, that’s all he was. Just Peter. The love of her former life. That’s all he is, that’s all he is, that’s all--

“Mr. Parker, with all due respect, I don’t think--”

“FRIDAY, please, open (Y/N)’s door,” He interjects. “I just need to see her.”

There is a hesitancy in the AI’s actions, but she does it. It glides open smoothly and Peter steps in. He reaches for her blindfold and pushes it up, and for a fleeting moment, his sweet Astraea is back. She looks up at him and smiles, and it actually reaches her eyes, and he feels like whatever Tony did to her had to have worked, because that other woman was gone. Now it was just (Y/N), his sweet and soft girl.

“Baby, I can’t touch you,” She says. And there it was. The subtle glint of manipulation in her eyes that contradicted her entire chocolatey-sweet demeanor. “Don’t you want to hold me?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” He says, looking deep into her eyes as he slowly reaches around to break her bindings. She stands on her tip-toes and gives him a soft kiss, but it isn’t sweet by any means. He knows her intentions in that kiss, and he thinks of every time they had done the things that she was implying.

It’s easy to undo the cloth that held her wrists together. His hands fall to her waist, and she grabs him by the collar to pull him closer. It’s firey hot and he doesn’t need to have her abilities to feel nothing but love and lust for the woman in front of him.

He is wrapped around her finger and he knows that. And, to be fair, it’s reciprocated when she’s her normal self. But right now, all he wants to do is fall to his knees and worship his goddess. He wants to decorate her altar with his lips, his fingers, whatever he can use. He wants to pray to her, have her name spill from his lips, taste the honey name on his tongue.

Astraea. Astraea. Astraea.

She moves her lips to his neck as her hands go to unbutton his shirt. Her body grinds against his and he groans, hands traveling down to her hips and grabbing tightly.

“See, baby? Isn’t this nice?” She finally opens the shirt, so she runs her hands down his stomach.

Peter knows he needs to stop. He knows this is wrong, that she’s just manipulating him to let her free, but he doesn’t know how to stop--doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. She fogs his mind, makes him all dizzy and lightheaded and he suddenly can’t walk anymore. Everything is her.

Nyx. Nyx. Nyx.

There has to be some clarity in this. Some way to see through the fog and get away from this woman who isn’t actually the one he loves. He thinks back to the first time they had even kissed. The one kissing him and making him feel these things.

Her hair was splayed across the pillow, eyes gently shut and worries anywhere but here. A peaceful day with her peaceful boyfriend, and she had begun to fall asleep on him. He looks down at his sweet girl, sees how beautiful she is, and smiles. A thumb far larger than her own swipes at her face slightly, attempting to memorize all there was to memorize.

Feathery soft lips pressed to her cheek. “You are such an angel,” He whispers, soft words disappearing into her soft skin.

“Hm, you should tell me that when you think I’m awake,” She says as he leans back, smiling up at him. Her eyes flutter open as she trails her hand to the back of his neck. He stops in place, breath hitching, eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips, and she pulls him back down to her. His daydreams about this exact moment were only beat by the real deal. She was soft and gentle, but she took what she wanted and he was more than happy to give it to her.

With a stern shove, Peter knocks (Y/N) off of him. “This isn’t you,” He said. He walked out the door, watching as she ran to it as it quickly closed behind him.

“Baby, yes it is,” She whined, watching as Peter buttoned his shirt back up. From the outside, yes, it was most certainly his beautiful Astraea. But he knew better than that.

“Peter, are you okay?” Tony asked as he ran in. “Let’s go,” He adds, seeing that (Y/N) didn’t have her bindings or blindfold on.

She watched with an angry expression as they left, fists balled at her sides.

Of course, Tony asked Peter what had happened. And he told him everything. They both realized that she had gotten much stronger since she was taken last year. A last-minute call was made to T’Challa, and his family had agreed to take her in and try their best to get her back. It wasn’t a Winter Soldier project by any means, but Shuri was a genius and the team hoped she could help.

And she did. It took 24 days and 16 hours to get the call, but once they did, Tony got on a quinjet and went to get her from Wakanda. Peter waited in her bedroom while Bucky, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce sat in the communal area.

She returns quickly with that same honey-like sweetness and finds Peter first.

“Baby?” She asks as the door slides shut behind her. She can feel his anxiety and fear, which nearly overpowers the love that he feels. She pulls her cardigan shut tighter, not quite knowing how to handle this situation. “Are you okay?” She adds as she steps toward him, steps soft and quiet.

“It’s you, right?” Peter asks. When she smiles and nods, he pulls her into him and holds her there. She feels nothing but relief and the same love from before. “You’ve been gone so long.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” She says. She didn’t want to think about it. A year away with HYDRA, five months on the run, and a month in Wakanda. She hadn’t been herself in a very long time, and she was ashamed of it. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, (Y/N),” Peter says, pulling back to cup her face in his hands. She leans into the touch, commits the feeling to memory, embraces the safety that she has when she’s with him. “It was HYDRA. You didn’t have a say in it.” She nods her head and wills away her tears. There was still a lingering fear that they were watching her and that she would be seen as weak. “What do you say we go watch a movie with the rest of the team?”

A soft smile makes its way onto her lips, and he smiles because of it. “That sounds perfect, baby.”

[storytimewithsapphire]

Love is Ludicrous 004

Jimin ft. Jungkook and Taehyung || Fuckboy! Maknae Line || 3801 Words

“Jimin Park being the ultimate definition of fuckboy along with his friends Taehyung Kim and Jungkook Jeon. Upon one of his best friends getting married, he’ll have to deal with consequences also known as Y/N.”

001 002 003 

;

The hustle of the crowd follows along as Hoseok and Y/N stroll through the halls complaining about the regular pains of working at such a busy hospital.

“It’s so annoying how we have to pay just to be able to do the surgery, do they think we’re made of money or something?” The sentence catches Y/N’s attention, after working so hard with the part-time modelling she was finally able to pay for med school and even then, she barely made enough.

“Money? No one told us about that”

“They give us a memo about it just before you get on the roaster, it’s like a five-thousand-dollar registration fee and you have to pay it all before your first surgery. Crazy, right?” Hoseok turns back to see nervousness grow on Y/N’s face, a face he hadn’t seen since they first started the program together a long time ago.

“Hey Y/N, are you okay?” Hoseok asks concerned at how usually quiet Y/N had gotten. The question causes Y/N to snap out of her thoughts and catch up to Hoseok.

“Yeah, I’m fine Hoseok. I just remembered I have to make an important phone call. We’ll catch up in the break room at eleven okay?” Hoseok nods at Y/N before she scurries off to a secluded part of the hospital, away from all the gossiping nurses and judgmental doctors.

The phone rings a couple times, longer than it usual.

“Hey Yoongi, how are you?” “Hey Y/N, I’m good and you?” “I’m good too, I wanted to ask about that Italian photo shoot… Is it still on?” “Yes, it is actually. My latest model cancelled on me when she found out the shoot involved moving vehicles. I wish you would just agree on doing it so I wouldn’t have to find another replacement” “How about I fulfil that wish then?” “Seriously? That’s perfect, I’ve got so many shoots going on this weekend and I don’t want anything but the best for my favourite shoot” “So when should I be there?”

;

Y/N passes by many others struggling to find their seats just as she tries to find hers in the crowded plane.

She passes by another air hostess guiding the business class to their seats until she finally arrives upon her own, seat C2.

It wasn’t until she pulls down her boarding card that she realises who her fellow passenger actually was.

“You? What the hell are you doing here?” Y/N exclaims, other passengers around them noticing her outburst.

Jimin looks up at her with a scowl for causing unnecessary attention towards them.

“Yes, it’s me, what do you want?” Jimin whispers, anger threatening his tone, “Show me your boarding card” Y/N exclaims, Jimin complies by passing her the tucked away boarding pass only for it to be chucked back at him. As if his patience wasn’t already growing thin with this Y/N girl.

Y/N searches around the area spotting an air hostess approaching her rushing her questions of moving to answer seat at her with little to no answers, “Please Miss, the flight is about to take off. I request that you take your seat”.

Frowning, Y/N takes a seat next to the smirking man leaning as far away from him as she could. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jimin leans back in his seat with his eyes closed yet the smirk remains, he begins to lean towards Y/N letting in deeps breaths as if he’s trying to locate something by scent. It wasn’t until Y/N felt the heat radiating off Jimin that she realised that he was leaning in towards her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N questioned him as she took his features while his eyes remain closed, from his sharp jawline to the plumpness of his lips, even Y/N knows that it should be illegal to be that good looking.

“It’s a real shame baby. If you weren’t such a bitch I’d actually consider having a fuck buddy. Even your damn scent is sexy as hell” Y/N could only focus on the way his lips moved as he spoke but she was quick to blame the space, more so lack of, between the two.

“And what makes you think I’d ever fuck a dog like you?” Y/N countered as she finally made eye contact with Jimin, each gazing one another with such intensity. Jimin saw his opportunity to snake a hand down to the underside of one of Y/N’s thighs, the cold rings causing Y/N to shiver upon contact.

“If you want me to be as dirty as a dog then all you had to do was ask” He whispered squeezing and kneading the flesh between his figures. From the way Y/N breath is caught in her throat just like it was at the altar, Jimin knew he had her exactly where he wanted her.

The expression on Y/N face was quickly replaced by a smirk as she reached for the bulge forming in Jimin’s seamlessly fitting jeans giving it a sharp squeeze, “Well two can play at that game”

As Jimin’s hand reached further up the edge of Y/N’s dress, Y/N continued her simulation towards the hardening bulge, both trying to suppress any noise that may draw attention to them as well as given the other the satisfaction of gaining any sort of pleasure.

Just as Jimin’s hand reaches the hemline of her underwear, Y/N pulled away from the front of Jimin’s jeans causing him to chuckle to himself relaxing back into the seat of the plane.

Y/N 0, Jimin 1

;

As soon as the plane stabilises itself after lift-off, Y/N glares at the seat belt sign above them to turn off. Jimin notices her antics as he smiles to himself knowing he was the reason she was acting this way.

Y/N unclicks her belts and storms out of her seat just as the light for the seat belt is switched off. She wonders towards the centre where the economic seats are divided from the business class seats.

As she left, Jimin calls over the air hostess that had previously talked to Y/N. The bullshit he makes over the seat having a draft had him relocating to another given to him by the kind but slightly irritated flight attendant.

;

A hand brushing through a mop of obnoxiously bright red hair draws her attention away from her initial plans. The mop of red hair Y/N now knows as Taehyung was caught in the middle of having his hand shoved between the legs of one of the girls that had a small modelling part in Yoongi’s shoot.

‘Oh, how will men survive without sex’ She thought as she ignored the absurd scene in front of them and continued her plans.

“Hello Miss, how can I help you?” The flight attended asked, she seemed a lot nicer than the previous one she had spoken to. “Yes, I would like to change my seat, are there any other seats available?” She questioned and, in her mind, prayed that there are other seats availed so she wouldn’t have to sit next to that overly cocky, sleazy-ball of a man.

“Yes, there is, seats D to F are available in row 1, it’s just ahead of your original seat Miss Y/N” Y/N didn’t question how or why the flight attendant she had just met knew her name already, she was just happy to be away from Jimin.

Upon arriving at her new seat, she checks behind to her previous seat to see if Jimin still occupied it but due to the other passengers, and for being short, she couldn’t see past them.

Like the air hostess had said, row 1 was practically empty except for the window seat where a man had the blanket covering him from head to toe. His peaceful slumber against the window had Y/N lulling off to dreamland herself and before she knew it, she was cuddled up to the man sleeping against a window.

;

Jimin’s initial plan of pissing her off had come to a halt as he stared at the harmless face snuggled into his left arm.

He takes less than a moment to remember that this was indeed the bitch that sabotaged Jungkook’s marriage and dings the bell repeatedly until the flight attendant shows up, the same one that had irritably changed his seat.

“Can you please tell her to get off me, please?” Jimin grunts as he tries to put on the fakest grin he’s ever had.

The flight attendant shakes Y/N slightly before explaining that she was disturbing her fellow passenger. Y/N apologises to the flight attendant letting her walk away before turning to apologise to the man she fell asleep on until she realises that it was that it was Jimin all over again.

“You? Why are you here?” she exaggerated by pointing to the seat he was, Jimin rolls his eyes as the answer to her question which enrages her even further.

“When will you stop following me goddamn it” She exclaims, the heads of other passengers turning to the ruckus.

Just to spite Y/N, Jimin claims over his seat so he would look down at her directly when he spoke. “I am not following you. Now you are going to shut the fuck up, sit your pretty little ass in that seat and wait for this flight to be over. Understood?”

The tension in the air was thick but knowing she could handle any more embarrassment than she had already faced with Jimin, Y/N nodded at him just to get him back in his seat before muttering ‘fuckboy’ into the air.

Wanting to forget the events that had just occurred Y/N pulled out her phone to check the details for the shoot but not before hearing ‘bitch’ muttered into the air as both sat visibly annoyed in their seats waiting for this flight to be over.

;

Italy is a very beautiful place, Jimin and Taehyung knew that but why did there have to be so many photo shoots held one after the other? When would they get have some real fun around the area?

Jimin knew his dance apparel shoot wasn’t until 4pm but he needed to see all the models that he, may or may not, be working with for well ‘work’ purposes.

Jimin approaches Taehyung already clothed in the Gucci outfit he was supposed to model for the brand. Taehyung noticed Jimin and runs to the older boy shouting random questions that Jimin couldn’t understand a word of.

“Tae, slow down. What’re you so panicked for?” Jimin askes to which Taehyung takes deep breaths before answering.

“So, you know how hyung has a lot of models coming in for a lot of shoots? Well, this particular model doesn’t know how to be organized and showed up late so now he’s getting ready when they need to do his tracking shot with the other model and I’m already dressed for my shoot so in other words. Can you do the tracking shot for hyung?” Taehyung bursts as he moves around his arms to emphasise his words.

“Okay fine I’ll do it, where are the clothes?” Jimin agrees as Tae bounces around before dragging him in the direction of the dressing rooms.

;

“Okay so while we wait for both of the models, let’s get you to run through the shoot once by yourself” Jimin fixes his hair in the small mirror of the motorcycle while someone worked on the placement of his leather jacket.

Jimin starts the bike as told by the instructor and gets into the first position shot. He found it hard to believe that a shoot promoting clothing had to include such challenging aspects, for example, riding a fucking motorcycle which he’s only done a few times in his life.

The first run through went well but the male model Jimin had been covering for still wasn’t ready. The instructor came back and to explain how the bike would now be controlled by the tracks since they know the positioning of the vehicle now but also because he had to do another practice shot but this time with the female model.

If Jimin thought riding a motorcycle on its own was difficult, he didn’t know what severity it would be when the female model came in. Somehow, he had to pose a few times with the model behind him and then somewhere during the ride he needed to bring the model in between himself and the handles of the bike. He was just glad he wasn’t controlling the bike anymore.

Just as the stylist finished doing touch-ups on Jimin, he noticed a familiar head of her and bitch like face walk towards him. “What the hell are you doing here?” Y/N yells at Jimin, glaring as she sizes him up and down though if she had to be honest, Jimin looks damn good in a leather jacket.

“I’m helping out a friend, wait I should be asking you that. What the hell are you doing here?” Jimin yells back getting off the bike. “I’m the fucking model for this shoot that’s what and I know for sure that your shrimp ass isn’t the model I’m supposed to be working with” Y/N retaliates.

Before Jimin could get another word, he felt himself getting dragged away only to see Taehyung when he was as far away from Y/N as possible.

“Look Y/N, Namjoon came in late and we needed to get the tracking shots done before the real shoot, so Taehyung had Jimin step in for the time being since his shoot isn’t until 4pm” Yoongi explains to a furious Y/N, if it wasn’t for how much she needs the money, Y/N would have walked her way back to LA already.

“Do I have to go through the whole shoot with him? I despise him enough for being in the same area as me, I don’t know how I’ll react if I have to sit that close to him” Y/N retorts hoping that Yoongi will delay it instead, but luck doesn’t seem to be on her side today.

“Come on Y/N, we’re running late already” Yoongi sighs shoving her in the direction of the motorbike, she could see from the corner of her eye that Jimin was being pushed towards her by Taehyung himself.

Both reluctantly get on the bike as Y/N waits for Yoongi to come back with more information about the shoot.

“So even if this is a tracking shot, I still need to see the raw emotion and feelings that are going to be in the final photo shoot. Make sure to make this kiss look as passionate as possible since this shoot needs to promote pure love” Yoongi finishes speaking as Jimin’s eyes look as if they were about to pop out of his skull.

“Wait kiss? What kiss?” Jimin stutters as Y/N rolls her eyes at him, it’s not like he hasn’t kissed her before.

“Yes Jimin, kiss. Now guys remember, feel the love” Yoongi ends passionately before heading back to his position for taking the pictures. This is the most enthusiastic they’ve seen Yoongi for a long time.

“It’s just a stupid kiss, get over it Jimin” Y/N voices clearly irritated as she tries to shift herself as far back on the bike as she can but the little space, and her skin-tight dress, doesn’t allow much movement.

“I’m not worried about the stupid kiss, but you should hold tight princess unless you have plans to die in the middle of this” Y/N could practically see his smirk from the back of his head as she wraps her arms around his surprisingly small waist. ‘Great, even the guy I hate has better body curves than me’ she thinks.

As the shoot begins, Y/N follows her simple guide as to where she needed to look for the pictures that were being taken, she soon stands up behind Jimin letting the breeze of the air brush her hair back.

Knowing what comes next, Jimin wraps one hand around Y/N’s waist before pulling her forward as the other remains on the other handle. Despite her pure hatred towards the man in front of her, Y/N leans forward to have their foreheads touch, a simple gesture that looks as passionate as Yoongi had told them to be.

The eye contact the two hold with each other looks as if it was purely lustful. Tilting forward a bit more, Y/N places a delicate open-mouthed kiss on Jimin’s lips before using her teeth to pull at his plump lower lip.  Jimin could feel the heat rising on the back of his neck before he dips in for another kiss. He had to make it look real, at least that’s what he keeps reminding himself.

The bike comes to a halt making the two separate from each other, both holding a gaze full of fieriness. Yoongi approaches the two who remain in their positions unable to detach themselves until they hear Yoongi’s voice.

“Jimin you did an excellent job, I can’t thank you enough for helping me” Yoongi praises Jimin as he proceeds to get off the bike and hold out his hand to help Y/N get off.

His smug expression, however, is wiped off when he notices Y/N taking the hand of the actual model he was filling in for, a tall, handsome, tall, broad, tall, blond. Did Jimin mention he was tall?

Jimin watches with annoyance as this so-called model takes the back of Y/N’s hand before placing a kiss to it, the sight of it makes Jimin want to puke.

“Ah Namjoon, you’re finally fucking ready” Yoongi curses as Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, some stylists slapping his hand away as he manages to mess up a couple of strands in the back. ‘Amateur’Jimin thinks rolling his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Namjoon, thanks for filling in for me, hope it wasn’t too much of a trouble” Namjoon smiles towards Jimin to which he only replies with the fakest smile possible, biting his tongue to avoid any curses slipping by.

“Okay let’s get you on the bike Joon. Since you’re much taller than Jimin we have to adjust the cameras and lights to your height now” Yoongi pushes Namjoon towards the bike before helping Y/N get on as Jimin sulks watching the whole thing.

“Oh my Namjoon, you’re so tall. Guess height really does matter” Y/N smirks instantly griping on to Namjoon’s waist watching as Jimin’s sulk morphs into anger before he is shooed away by the rest of the camera crew.

Y/N 1, Jimin 1

;

Y/N twists her neck around hoping to hear a few clicks to relax the over-stressing muscle and bones around her neck but alas, nothing.

She had enough up-front cash from Yoongi’s shoot to pay for her flight back and half of her upcoming surgery fee but Yoongi had already assured her that she’ll get her final payment when she’s back home.

Imagining the feeling of being back in her own home, in her own bed seemed like a fantasy but that’s all Y/N could wish for right now. Instead, she’s subjected to the ear-splitting noises of strangers talking and children yelling at the airport.

Focusing her eyes on the environment around her, she notices a familiar head of red hair and, of course, along beside it would be a perfectly shaped blond head of hair too. The girl the blond had his arm around whispers something to him before making her way through the crowd and to the bathroom.

It probably wasn’t a good thing that Y/N wanted to get one ahead of Jimin after the whole flight to Italy incident she had to deal with but when did anyone say she was a good person?

Making her way towards the bathroom, she looks over hoping the two males didn’t spot her, but it would be hard to anyway considering the sea of people who decided to fly overseas from Venice.

Arriving inside the decently decorated bathroom, she pretends to fix her hair while waiting for the girl to come out of the stalls.

The brunette finally makes her appearance to wash her hands while Y/N smirks at her revenge plan towards Jimin is heading into action.

“Any reason you’re staring at me?” The brunette questions, Y/N sighs with her limited but very believable acting. She didn’t take those drama classes in college for nothing.

“It’s just, I saw you and thought it must be very brave of you to stay with a man like Jimin” Y/N leans forward placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder as if for sympathy.

“What the hell are you talking about? How do you even know him” She questions and all Y/N can think is, good fucking luck Park Jimin.

“Oh, that’s too long of a story but to tell you the truth, he hooked up with my best friend and me behind our backs and got us pregnant on purpose. He kept saying that he’d pull out, but he never did, and I know you wouldn’t be as stupid as me to not check if he’s wearing a condom or not but that little shit always took it off before he came. He has this stupid bet going with his friend, the red-haired one, Taehyung, to get as many girls pregnant as possible and I’m pretty sure he’s going to do the same with you”

The fake tears that fell from Y/N’s eyes really seem to have made the girl believe her but she needs something else to seal the deal.

“I’m sorry I told you this but I’m just looking out for you, he’s ruined my whole modelling career without a care in the world and I just wouldn’t want you to suffer the same fate as me”

Unexpectantly, the brunette pulls Y/N for a hug as she rubs her back for comfort. Checkmate.

Leaving you in the bathroom, she storms out heading towards a very oblivious Park Jimin.

Hurrying after her, Y/N only seems to catch the end of the brunette’s fury as she sees Jimin holding the cheek she had just slapped before she sees him laying on the floor clutching his balls, and little dignity, for dear life.

Taehyung seems to finally notice his friend in a shit ton of pain and rushes towards a very confused Jimin before lifting him up. Although Jimin’s confusion quickly went away when noticing a very happy Y/N winking towards him before strolling past them.

“Why were you on the floor Jimin? And why are you limping like that?” An absentminded Taehyung asks. In his pissed off state, Jimin only manages to knee Taehyung dick just as the girl did his.

Y/N 2, Jimin 1

[weshallneverrevolt]

MAGFest and The Theology of Pop Culture

I have never been an especially religious person.

That’s not to say I haven’t tried. For years as a kid I went to multiple churches, everything from a Quaker meeting house to a very Southern, weep at the altar church. I tried. I prayed every night before bed, I had a “real men love Jesus” shirt, I went on youth group retreats. But I never felt at home at any of those places. When I saw someone speaking in tongues or entranced by music, I couldn’t relate.

Instead, I threw myself into art and pop culture. I read insatiably. I nodded along to punk rock and hip-hop in my Aiwa CD changer. I spent hours glued to standup on Comedy Central and anime on Adult Swim. But most importantly, I played video games.

Video games shaped my childhood – and subsequently the rest of my life – in a way that nothing else really did. Even my family and friends, despite their dearness to me, couldn’t provide the exhilarating sense of newness that video games did. As I grew older my relationship with games fluctuated, and obviously there’s more to life than consuming media. I traveled, I fell in love, I went outdoors, and I made many friends. But video games have always been a comfortable, familiar place to return when the task of living wears me down.

In recent years – thanks to therapy, a supportive non-gamer wife, and like-minded friends – I have reconnected to my childhood love of games on a much deeper level. Part of this is because of an event called MAGFest. After my initial trip there in 2016 to meet internet friends, I successfully evangelized it to my entire friend circle. This year we rolled 11 deep, plus my internet friends and folks I’ve met at MAGFest. None of my other friends ever hear me shut up about it.

So why? Why do I care so much about this? Why do 20,000 other annual attendees care so much?

I should start by explaining what MAGFest is. MAG – short for Music and Gaming – is a 3-day convention outside Washington, DC. Thousands of geeks gather to play games together, listen to electronic and video game music, dress in costumes, listen to experts at panels, and generally rage. Calling it a “convention” is really a disservice, which is why fans and organizers are quick to say “it’s not a con – it’s a festival.” Essentially, MAGFest is a pop culture celebration, equal parts rave, music festival, and cruise without the ship.

Something that separates MAGFest from other cons is its nonstop nature. The schedule begins at noon on the first day and ends at noon on the fourth day, and doesn’t stop. There are no breaks. Also unlike some other cons, MAGFest is concentrated in a single massive hotel venue. You not only attend the party, you sleep and wake there. It is a fully immersive experience.

Speaking of the venue – the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center – it’s important to understand its size. The Gaylord is a 16-floor hotel with thousands of rooms, four warehouse-sized exposition halls, a rooftop nightclub, and an open-air atrium with one side entirely made of glass. Outside this glass façade you see the lights of DC across the Potomac. There are probably some European countries smaller than the Gaylord.

The Gaylord also sits on one side of National Harbor, a master-planned resort town. The restaurants and shops there are very much of the touristy variety, and many of them are overpriced and underwhelming. But when MAGFest takes over and the streets are filled with cosplayers and music, the phony veneer seems to slip away.

The Gaylord and National Harbor have no real identity of their own; they are a blank canvas on which to project whatever event they host. And when MAGFest comes to town, they become a sort of geek city. A futuristic, borderline utopian center of chaos, partying, music, and general celebration. It feels like another planet, and during the almost annual blizzards it looks like one too. The Gaylord is effectively a giant spaceship piloted by a bunch of nerds, hosting a sleepover with 20,000 of your friends.

And the sheer amount of things to do with those friends is overwhelming, especially for first-timers. There’s a full arcade with both popular and rare games to play, all included in admission. There’s a room full of every gaming console imaginable with 24/7 attendance and both pick-up and organized tournaments. A marketplace full of talented artists and experienced merchants. Concerts running all day, both with professional musicians and spontaneous jammers in the halls. An entire annex dedicated to tabletop games, with a two-room library of them to rent as you please.

But aside from all the events, simply being at MAGFest is an experience. Much of my memories there are flashes, moments. Sitting on a balcony overlooking crowds and neon lights, having heart-to-hearts at 3am. Sipping whiskey and wandering through the halls as strange music plays and cosplayers pose for photos. Dancing at concerts until it hurts. Running a D&D game for my friends and hearing them shout with joy as they conquer my challenges. Connecting with costumed strangers in the glass elevators. Chatting with musicians after their sets. Meeting hundreds of other people who just get it, who understand why church was so weird and my TV set felt like such a safe place.

When I go to MAGFest, I don’t feel pressured to be anyone but myself. There are no obscure interests to hide. There’s no phony workplace air of professionalism. There is none of the responsibility or burden of being an adult with goals and plans and a schedule.

When I’m at MAGFest, I’m free.

The essence of being a geek is having an attachment to culture. Not just any culture, but culture that doesn’t intersect with society in the way that organized religion or even family units do. Because of this separation between geek culture and the societal hierarchy, so much of what we consume is based on fantasy. Escapism. Wish fulfillment.

If geek culture is based on this sense of leaving the world – of fleeing – MAGFest is something like a dream. A three-day dream of color, music and light. A haven where those dreams are suddenly made real, where the imagination that we wistfully seek in cubicles and traffic jams is tangible. It’s an escape, but more than that it’s a temporary reality. The hangover from MAGFest is certainly due to hard partying, but it’s also because of re-entering the gray, predictable, formulaic reality of living.

So for the guy speaking in tongues at church who I snickered at, for the youth pastor who glared at me for not crying at the altar, for the kids in high school who called me “baby killer” after I renounced religion…you know what? I get it now. That was your MAGFest. That hour every Sunday felt like a new world to you. You constructed it with your friends and family and let your heart go raw with love and passion. You found your new reality in those places.

But my reality of choice? It’s MAGFest. It’s a 3-day vacation, it’s a place for memories with friends, it’s a shit ton of booze and video games.

But most importantly, it’s home.

[kaitlynskpop]

“where all is holy”

??? x reader [prologue]

2.5k words

                              seven deadly sins! au

    There was no light streaming in through the stained glass picture of Mary, and that’s how you knew you were in trouble.

    The church floorboards creak, and you sit on your haunches from your spot kneeling before the altar. A sudden chill fills the air, and you pull your jacket tighter around your form before bravely turning around to catch the culprit of the noise in the air.

    “Father Bang?” you whisper, your eyes scanning the pews. However, the burly man was nowhere to be found. You were alone in the room. Swallowing, you turn back to the altar, when a chorus of beautiful laughter fills the room. You watch as the candles you had lit blew in a sudden wind that swept through the room, so harsh that your jacket rises away from your body and flies off of you. You try to reach out at the catch the fabric, only for it to violently slam against a desk in the corner of the room, causing a piece of paper, which caught the breeze shaking the room, to fly through the air.

    The paper floats down in front of you, landing on the table which you had set up the candles on. You gasp as the piece of paper begins to burn at the corner, quickly rising to grasp the paper and blow on it to stop the firing from spreading. The paper, burnt in the corner, appeared old. It was yellow, and the writing on it was light gray instead of the dark black that was associated with newly written pieces. Gnawing on your lip, you skim over the paper.

    Unfortunately, you didn’t recognize the prayer.

    O Lord Jesus Christ, pattern of humility, who emptied yourself of your glory, and took upon the form of a servant: root out of us all pride and conceit of heart, that, owing ourselves miserable and guilty sinners, we may willingly bear contempt and reproaches for your sake, and glorying in nothing but you, may esteem ourselves lowly in your sight. Not unto us, O Lord, but to your name be the praise, for your loving mercy and for your truth’s sake.

Amen.

    “Do you think she’ll get the hint now?” comes a new voice, quiet while swimming through your ears. It was deep, but seemed far away -- almost like people were talking while you were dozing.

    You look up and yet again find no one.

    Your hands tremble as they clutch the paper. Something was so wrong and you didn’t know what was going on. You swear you could hear voices as if they were in the room.

    “Should we make ourselves visible to her?” It came from your far right, near the back of the sanctuary. The voice was deep and made you shiver. It held anything but good intentions, sensual in its delivering.

    “I’m sure the poor thing would be frightened,” came a third voice, kind and upbeat. However, you knew better than to trust someone just because they seemed nice. This voice is perhaps the closest to you, so close you swear you hear breath against your ear.

    “Maybe I should help her relax,” comes a purr from the second voice again.

    “Maybe you should shut up,” comes a fourth voice, teasingly.

    “And my handsome face is too much for this kid right now,” comes a fifth voice.

    “I think she’s having trouble seeing us because she doesn’t want to believe this is happening, not because we’re necessarily blocking ourselves.” This is the sixth voice, seeming to come from the second pew down. Your head snaps in the direction. There was a certain intellectualism about the voice, like someone who knew what they were talking about.

    “Aw, look at how she reaction to Greed’s voice,” coos a seventh voice. “Not fair! I want to have fun with her too!” You picture a young man pouting as he utters these words.

    “Well, he is the leader,” comes a dry response from the first voice, the one that seemed like you were listening from underwater. Perhaps it was the lazy, biting drawl of it that made it vibrate within your ears.

    “But Pride’s been doing this the longest out of all of us, and she didn’t react nearly as much as she did to Greed!” argues the seventh voice, a high-pitched whine.

    “That’s because Pride only talks about his handsome face,” comes the same dry response.

    “What else is there to talk about?” This interruption between the first and seventh voice comes from, who you assume is Pride. “My face is the reason girls like her fall for me.”

    “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” comes the sarcastic response from the first voice.

    “Geez,” barks the third voice with laughter rumbling throughout the church. “Sloth’s on a roll today.” This was the voice that had come from right next to you, and you could feel the warmth of a body next to you.

    You gather your wits just enough to stammer out, “H-hello?”

    Silence fills the sanctuary and you knew in that moment you were going crazy.

    “Let’s show her us,” begs the second voice. There was a begging tone within his words. “God, I can’t wait to be inside of her. She’s so pure.”

    “You’re fucking gross,” comes the fourth voice. “God, you’re stinking up this hellhole with your fucking horniness, Lust.”

    “You’re the one that’s gross, Wrath,” retorts Lust. “We all know you’re just as eager to be inside that tight little body.”

    There was a grunt of disgust as a reply. You can picture someone curling their lip in response to Lust’s words.

    “Fine,” comes Greed, the one who seemed to have all the answers. “Let’s show her us.”

    You feel your breath catch in your throat, and you close your eyes, shaking your head. “You’re all not real,” you cry out, placing your hands over your ears. “Oh my god, I need to get home.” Too bad you didn’t recognize your mistake.

    “Who did you just say, little girl?” This was the originally happy seventh voice. This time, his voice was laced with darkness and a metallic taste that could only be associated with blood fills your mouth. “Did you really just say his name in front of us? You should know better, just from listening to us. We’re going to have to punish you, now.”

    Murmurs and shouts and grunts of agreement rise from the faceless group. You fall to the ground, holding your head and rocking back and forth. You remember a time when you were punished by God through visions of what could only be a past life, and you feared the worst: that you were once again going to be punished with visions and voices. That’s the only logical reasoning behind the voices you hear within the church.

    “Please, please, please pleasepleaseplease,” you beg. “God, don’t do this to me again. I’m begging you, Lord. I-I don’t know what I did wrong! I’ll pray every day for hours again!” At this point you’re rambling. “Not again, just please, not again, I’ve tried so so hard to please you so that they don’t pop up again-”

    “Oi, this is really pissing me off,” comes the first voice. Sloth? “She keeps mentioning Him.”

    Several footsteps ring in your eyes, and there was the creaking of the sanctuary’s wooden floor. You tremble, knowing that divine punishment was about to be delivered to you.

    “Open your eyes, girl,” purrs Lust.

    And when you do, you jump at seeing seven young men in front of you. What was more surprising was how beautiful each of them were.

    Each of them had their own unique characteristics which made it very clear that although they could raise hell together, they were more than capable of doing so by themselves.

    “I am Lust,” purrs a handsome man, oozing strength and sensuality. You noticed the slightest of all scars on his cheek. If anything, it contributed to his beauty.

    “I’m Gluttony,” comes the distinct seventh voice, the one which rings like a bell. His soft cheeks made it appear as if he was constantly smiling -- which he was doing right now.

    “Greed,” says another man. You once again shudder at his deep voice and peer at who it was. He was the tallest of the men around you, with silver hair.

    “Wrath.” A man joins the introductions. His gorgeous blonde hair was taken back by a tie, his bangs sweeping the corners of his face. He had soft, round lips.

    “Pride.” This man was perhaps the most otherworldly beautiful of them all, tall and thin as idealized by the world. He had pitch black hair, and appeared the oldest out of everyone. You remember vaguely, as you were enraptured by his beauty, that pride was the original sin, and the most serious. Another shudder runs through your body at the information your mind supplied.

    “I’m Envy.” Following the voice, you encountered an ethereal man with blonde hair. He had the most round face out of all the members, his cheeks soft and almost -- if you were not being serious -- squishy. It reminded you of a child, and you would have guessed that he was the youngest if you had not first met Lust.

    The quiet voice, the one which echoes as if underwater, finally speaks up. “Sloth,” he says, eyes flickering to you and away from you just as quick, as if he couldn’t bare to give anyone the time out of his day. There was a lazy quality about him, from his apathetic face to his crimped hair that made it appear as if he had just gotten out of bed.

    You have slowly been piecing together all of the introduction. Oh, God. You felt like you were going to be sick. You hoped desperately that this was all a joke by God above. There was no way the Seven Sins themselves could appear before you.

    “Yes, we are the Seven Sins,” Greed says, as if reading your mind. You startle, slowly crawling backwards until your back hit the altar. They edge closer to you, their red eyes sharp and all-seeing. You swear you hear Sloth snarl in annoyance, as if saying, This puny human made me move.

    You still immediately, but you could feel your body shaking against the cold church ground. You were sure you were hallucinating, or that the visions were back again.

    “You’re ours now,” says Lust, a smirk edging at the corner of his perfect lips. You’re an entranced as you are terrified by the motion.

    “W-what do you mean?”

    “(F/n) (L/n), you have been born to absolve the Seven Deadly Sins, the most serious of all sins, of their wrongdoings,” says Wrath unusually solemnly.

    “You’re wrong!” you cry out, bringing your trembling hands to your face.

    “Oh?” The temperature drops as much as Wrath’s voice. You are no longer quivering out of fear. No, it was if any hint of warmth had been completely ripped out of you in a single moment. You could feel your body beginning to freeze over, and you gasp. The air was so still, any dust in the air freezing in its place. The church is still, all at Wrath’s power. Your eyes frantically check the man’s face, and yet he seems calm. That had to be the most terrifying expression you had ever seen, not just because of his actions, but because of how little he cares about it. “Should we light this entire town on fire then? Would you like that? Maybe we can start with this little church you’ve been attending since before you were born.”

    Fear, icy and cold, runs through your veins. You can physically feel the sweat collecting at the top of your head, under your bangs. You don’t think you’d ever been this terrified in your entire life.

    “I’m sorry.” The words coming out of your mouth. “You-you just have to understand, this is hard to believe. That it’s happening.”

    “We don’t have to understand shit,” sneers Envy, his unusually friendly face tight with disgust. His pouty lips were pursed in disgust. His hooded eyes are wide, red irises boring down into your very soul. You gasp as you see a vision: Envy ripping your heart from your body, holding the bloody organ in his hand as a cackle rings through your head. You shudder in fear, your bottom lip trembling and tears prickling into your eyes.

    “Oh my --”

    “Don’t you dare finish that!” snaps Gluttony, brow furrowing. “You really don’t want to piss me off, little girl.”

    A murmur of agreement arises from the men. No, not men. Demons. Beings of higher power. Sins.

    “So, what will be your choice?” This time it is Greed, perhaps the most collected and calculating of the bunch. “Will you help us or shall we kill you now?”

    “I vote we kill her now,” muses Wrath. “She holds no use for me. Like this measly human could help me.”

    Gluttony hums to acknowledge Wrath’s words, before turning back to give you a once-over. “I don’t know. She’s pretty cute when she’s petrified.” A wicked grin crosses his affable face.

    “Oh, believe me, I know she’s cute,” says Lust. His honeyed tongue causes goosebumps to arise on your arms. “I’ve been enraptured with her beauty since we arrive. I wonder how humans feel when they’re under you.” The terrifying part was you couldn’t tell if he was talking about fucking you or slaughtering you, or doing both.

    “Can we please get this over with?” snaps Sloth. “I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to be.”

    “I agree,” says Pride. He turns his ethereal face towards you, his plump lips frowning. “So? What about it, human?”

    You chew your lip, before blurting out, “What are my options? Help you and live, or refuse and die?”

    “Look who’s finally catching on,” Sloth responds drily.

    “Those aren’t options!”

    “Yes, they are,” argues Envy. “So cast your vote!”

    You grab on to the wall behind you and stand slowly, like an antelope arising in front of a lion. “I…”

    “Any day now,” Sloth sighs.

    “...will help.”

    “Great!” cheers Gluttony, clasping his hands together to make a singular clap. “I knew you were smart!”

    “I’m glad you agreed,” interrupts Greed. “Now tell me, which one would you like to absolve first?”

    Knowing there was no way out of this, and that this was too long to be a hallucination or vision, you bite down on your lip before opening your mouth. You didn’t know the enormous impact your words would have on your life. Oh, if only you could stay this oblivious forever. “I think I’ll begin with --”

[largebeeffriedrice]

Choose Your Deity Carefully - Chapter 2

Also on AO3 if that floats your goat more. 

Chapter 2: Terms and Conditions

There's a 90's country song that goes something like, '...before I know it Saturdays gone, but it's Sunday now and you can bet that I'm alright.'

Indeed, the Sunday following my run in with Loki was quite uneventful. Which was marvelous for me.

I'd stayed in my apartment and nothing bad happened to me. My cable didn't cut out, all the neighbors were surprisingly quiet, and someone even ordered a pizza that I got because somehow the driver had the wrong address but also somehow had an extra pizza.

That last one I was very suspicious about and wondered if my potential new deity had anything to do with it. If he had then I was pretty prepared to accept becoming a worshipper. My only problem was that I was still a skeptic and wanted proof that this act was tied to him.

Especially since he didn't seem like the type to do good will favors or at least not without some fanfare. Even if it was just to convince me to convert.

But by Monday, I was back to dragging my feet and attempting to not cry at every misfortune that befell me.

The bakery I went to every Monday was closed due to a handful of health code violations, my bus drove right by my stop, and the sole to one of my flats suddenly started tearing away. Forcing me to walk to work with my stomach growling and my foot aching from the continuous slap of my sole smacking into my heel with every step.

I tried to reason that this is just stuff that happens to people.

Especially stuff that happens to me. But it was just getting more and more unusual how much happened in one day. Even one week. Hell, I'd go so far as to even say a month!

But I'd be damned if it didn't make me more tempted to take up Loki's offer.

The temptation rose when Megan from accounting visited me on the third floor to ask me again how to spell my name and, "Oh, weird. I'm not even showing you on the payroll now."

It reached its climax when I went to go take my lunch and found that someone had eaten all of my food before putting my empty lunch sack back into the fridge with a note that said, 'Should have put your name on it.'

My full name was still visible on the wrinkled up bag.

After lunch, I had returned to my desk and started researching what I could about Loki and then, once I'd learned some mythology, started looking up what kind of offerings Norse Gods accepted.

I'd opened a couple different tabs from some sketchy looking websites but had to admit they seemed pretty detailed. Though some of the stuff went over my head--- was I supposed to actually find real dragon blood or just the incense?--- I felt confident that it would be easy to keep the trickster pleased with small tokens of worship. Who doesn't like alcohol and burying coins in exchange for good luck?

I was about to Google and see if there were particular prayers or something required of me when my computer screen suddenly went black.

I tapped, banged, and pleaded with the screen to come back on. I even unplugged and replugged in the tower to try and get the piece of shit working. But, inevitably, I had to accept defeat and call someone from IT to come look at it.

It was while I was waiting that everything fully cemented into my mind. Full acceptance of Loki's deal washed over me, as I realized that I was going to have to explain to some tech guy why I was looking up Norse mythology when I was supposed to actually be working.

~~

Later that night, I set to work making a sort of altar spot for him in my living room. All of the blogs I'd seen had dedicated the color green to him so I went with it. I'd bought green candles, incenses, a tiny planting pot for whatever coins I found around the apartment, and a pretty fake plant.

The plant was really more for me but it seemed to fit on the crate I bought for all my worshipping needs so I left it there.

The faint aroma of burning meat started flooding my apartment as I lit the candle and incenses and carefully placed them away from the plastic leaves of my plastic hydrangea.

That was another thing I had ended up learning. Not from my computer but from the IT person sent to fix the damn thing. After she had tried to explain to me what was wrong with the computer, thankfully not a virus, she had then chatted me up on the content still sitting guiltily in my browser.

Apparently, she was a major history buff and had been more than pleased to tell me about how people would go so far as to burn meat as a form of sacrifice to the old gods. Something about how it symbolized their level of devotion since they were willing to give up valuable food to keep the deities happy.

It made sense after she explained it and I even agreed to talk to her more about it over lunch one day; partially because I wanted to know more and partially as a way to thank her for her willingness not to tell anyone that I hadn't been working.

Of course, I didn't really have money to go out and buy meat specifically for this so I had to accept the burning crisp death of a roast I'd planned to make for dinner that night. Maybe I'd ask for a favor that involved Megan from accounting since I felt like this was somewhat her fault.

But as the meat burned, the candles flickered, and the incense tickled my nose, I realized nothing was happening. I'd completely forgot to finish looking up what else I was supposed to do to actually summon Loki back to me. I should have asked the IT woman.

So, I did the only thing I had some knowledge of and kneeled beside the homemade shrine and bowed my head to pray.

"Loki. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say in a prayer. But I'd like to discuss the deal you offered me. Umm. Very interested. Thank you."

That was good. Right?

Still, nothing happened.

I stayed kneeling next to the altar for a few more moments before finally deciding to go check on the meat. The way my luck had been running I was risking sending my apartment up in a fiery blaze from my antics.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight. My prayer had been answered.

Loki sat crossed legged on the island, staring worriedly at my oven, and mindlessly rubbing at his chin.

It is still not clear if he just happened to notice me standing there or if I had maybe made a gaspy noise, but his eyes suddenly flicked my way and he finally said, "Mortal, you know that you have a perfectly ruined piece of roast in here, right?"

'Yeah, it's a sacrifice or something for you."

The arched eyebrow look again, "How mundane and wasteful. We could have had that for dinner."

The annoyance that surged through my body helped me move into action and I stomped further into my kitchen to turn the oven off and 'save' the roast from it's burning coffin.

"Well, it's not like you told me how I was supposed to call upon you or anything."

He didn't respond as he continued eyeing the roast. Even as it sat burnt and black on the stovetop. I'd never been great at reading people but it almost seemed like he had a hungry gleam in his eyes.

It was enough of a glint that I decided to risk it and ask, "I can fix something to eat if that's really what you want?"

He licked his lips, slowly, before answering, "No. I don't have time for that now. We need to talk about you doing a better job as my acolyte."

How long had he been in here staring at the charred hunk of meat? I tried to think about how long I had been in the living room preparing but honestly couldn't remember.

"I haven't actually agreed to it yet."

"But you want to. I already know," his hands rolled around one another, causing a flash of green light to abrupt in the empty space between them. The light blindly filled the whole kitchen and then quickly faded to reveal a rolled up scroll.

As his right hand grabbed at the floating parchment paper, his shockingly green eyes finally looked away from the roast and pinned me with a fiendish smile.

Loki held the paper out to me and softly spoke, "This is the terms and conditions."

Hesitantly, I reached out and gingerly took the scroll from him. A thought flitted through my mind and briefly, I paused and wondered if I was technically accepting the offer just by taking the paper.

But curiosity was my worst enemy and I clutched the paper a little tighter and fully pulled it from his hand.

His mirthful expression only grew as he watched me unravel the scroll and scrupulously read over it.

"Wait. I thought I was the one asking you for favors?"

"I said that there would be times I would require acts from you. Those are just the ones that I know about ahead of time."

"You want me to help you gain how many new followers?! You are the same guy who attacked New York aren't you?"

This only earned me a quick scowl before the God of Mischief recovered and replied, "Yes, but look at the benefits."

"Literally the benefits of me helping you get that many worshippers are that you don't kill me. I could always refuse to not accept this deal and not die. Right?" I didn't wait for him to answer as something popped into my brain, "Why do you even need this?

What are you really getting out of 'helping' me?"

Loki tsked me and shook his head disdainfully as if I was stepping out of line by asking such a question. I gave him another second or two before it became obvious that he had no intention of clarifying anything.

I wish this had rattled me more than it did at that moment. But sadly I just accepted his silence and had gone back to reading over the terms and conditions. Letting myself get swept up into the whirlwind chaos of the God of Mischief.

"So, you don't have an actual church?"

"Ew, no."

"Where are people supposed to go to pray to you then?"

He childishly turned up his nose and crossed his arms, "Praying is terrible and I want no part of it. It's dull, unimaginative, and normal."

"How am I suppose to truly worship you then? How am I supposed to communicate with you when I can't find you?"

These were the right questions and his jade eyes fixed on me with a flare of excitement.

With a quick and loud snap of his fingers, a second scroll appeared in his left hand. He pointed at me with the rolled up paper and hissed, "Once you sign and agree to that paper, I will gladly hand over this list of everything you'll need to know for proper offerings and all the works. Plus, I'll go over how to send word to me."

My eyes narrowed and kept glancing back and forth between Loki's smug, long face and the scroll resting loosely in his hand.

Again, past me should have followed her gut on how shaken she'd felt at having heard that the actual required acts were being kept on a different paper for AFTER she sold her soul.

But whatever. I'm still here. For now.

"Are you actually going to kill me if I don't succeed with your side mission?"

'No. Too messy. I'm already in enough trouble. But I can make your life very miserable."

That obviously didn't sound promising but the allure of having a year of better luck somehow won out in my mind. If my death was messy then no way he would actually really commit to tormenting me forever. Right?

"Also, I don't have to have sex with you, right? If that's on that paper in your hands then I refuse."

An exasperated huff, "No. That's not on the paper."

"Okay then, God of Mischief and Chaos," I paused when he held a finger up as if to correct me, but he scrunched his nose up instead and motioned for me to continue, "Get me a pen and I'll agree to a year of being your lackey."

"Wonderful," another snap of his fingers and a pen apparated into my right hand, "this is going to be so much fun."

As I signed the document in my hand I noticed that a symbol had appeared in the section marked off for Loki to sign. It didn't surprise me that he'd use magic instead of his own hand but I couldn't make out what it was supposed to be.

"What is that symbol for?"

"It's my corresponding rune."

"Oh."

And just like that the ink of the paper glimmer and glowed in a golden aura before I had to slightly shake my head and blink rapidly. It looked as if there were double words on the paper and I couldn't figure out why my brain was hallucinating that.

Except my mind wasn't.

The doubled ink suddenly pulled itself together at the bottom of the paper and then slowly bled and trickled its way towards my left hand. I gasped and roughly started shaking my hand, trying to get it to let go of the scroll.

But my fingers held tight against my will and the wild shaking did nothing to deter the ink from continuing its path now towards the inside of my wrist. Once it had all gathered there the ink started to sizzle against my flesh and then evaporated completely by the time I could even release a pained howl.

Where the ink had just been there was now a seared version of "Loki's rune" resting on my pink and inflamed skin.

"What the hell!? I didn't agree to be branded!"

The God of Mischief laughed hardily at my indignation and even slapped his hand on his knee a few times.

The merriment ended just as suddenly as it had begun and in its place, an exhausted expression took over Loki's face. It was as if he'd aged a couple sleepless years in an instant. Dark circles rested below his eyes and some frown lines were a little more visible next to his mouth.

With a tired sigh, he held out the other scroll and murmured, "Hold on to both of those papers. They are going to be your best tools for the next year."

I'm not even sure what had happened to the pen--- and I never gave it any thought until just now--- but I reached out my right hand and tugged the paper quickly from him. Not wanting anymore more trickery tonight.

He simply arched another brow in amusement and then blinked out of existence.

Leaving me standing alone in my kitchen with a burnt roast and two old ass looking scrolls.

"Okay. So. That all happened," I muttered while making my way back towards the shrine in the living room, "Though I don't know what I'm going to do about work since I'm not allowed to have a tattoo."

With my own weary sigh, I blew out all the still burning candles and snuffed out what was left of the incense. Then I rolled the contract up and placed it neatly next to my new fake plant.

I'd intended to just leave the new scroll rolled up with the contract, and look at it tomorrow, but something tickled at that back of my head and wouldn't let up until I started to unfurl the parchment.

Sure enough, my hands began shaking and one of my eyes started to twitch rapidly.

"THIS PAPER IS BLANK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I had failed to consider that Loki was not just the God of Mischief. Not just the God of Chaos.

But most importantly... he was the God of Lies.

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 13

‘Let us proceed then. I am certain that you know not of it, so let me instruct you on class changes.’

Veno begins to thoroughly explain everything.

‘All humans are born with the powers of a profession. It is said one’s gifts are determined by this class or job. Religion also has power and it is stored in the form of religious symbols. These symbols distribute their stored power and even unlocks latent strength residing in people. This is but a chapter in the story of the beginnings of professions. Humans pray and muster strength, sometimes that even turns to might.’

This kinda differs to the religion I know of. Well… the religions back home are nothing but a bunch of feel-good words, providing a pillar of strength for those who believe in destiny and fate. Sometimes, religion is the part of the local custom and gives a sense of peace for those who are headed to the afterlife. Compared to that, the religion of this world seems to be more substantial.

‘At least this is what religion means to adventurers. Miracles and all other unreasonable ideas are best left to heroes.’

It might be completely realistic for the people of this world, but the powers of a class or job really is quite the blessing. Who knows? Maybe I’ll belong to a religion here now. I’m familiar with all of this job change stuff since I’ve seen them in games, but everything seems to be rooted in some kind of history or lore.

‘Even the religion of your world is quite interesting. It has quenched my thirst for knowledge.’

Veno replies in a merry tone, but weren’t you real ticked off just a moment ago? You in a better mood now?

‘Well, let us leave it at that. What is important is that this symbol is not connected with the outside world… We should try interacting with it.’

By Veno’s instruction, I touch the broken stone statue. A pale green light ripples out from where I touched. Still… it’s my second day in this parallel universe and I’m already level 14. Aren’t things going a little too quick?

‘I wonder why that is as well. I know at least that your growth is definitely a blessing.’

It sure is. I levelled up real easy too. Well, I mean, the fight with the wolves actually hurt quite a bit.

‘Aye… it was all simpler than expected. And your protector did not slack off either…’

Veno follows up his muttering by pinging an icon in my field of vision.

Class change prerequisites fulfilled! Do you wish to change your class? Poison Earth → Poison-Wielder

I get the choice of yes and no. Hey, weren’t there a bunch of different jobs that were shown? The hell’s a Poison-Wielder? Is that the promoted version of Poison Earth?

‘Hmm? That is quite interesting. After the novice Earth-classes would be a basic class. I have heard that you could choose professions like Warrior, Mage, Priest, or Ranger. Was that but a bunch of falsehoods?’

Is this another guessing game? If this were a game, our location would make a difference. I mean, it would make sense since we’re at a crumbling altar in the middle of a poisonous swamp.

‘I have heard of nothing like such. Is it not because of my influence that you are a Poison Earth?’

That’s definitely plausible. When I was trying out my powers yesterday, I’ve always felt like it was something special. It is more than likely that it really is the advanced form of Poison Earth. What can a Poison-Wielder do anyway? And can I go back after I make my selection?

‘I have heard you can become any class you wish as long as you have fulfilled the requirements. That is fundamentally different than how monsters evolve.’

So, you’re saying a warrior can sidegrade to a Mage?

‘Aye. And furthermore, to advance in a profession, one would need extensive experience in other classes as well.’

I see. If you want to be a Swordmage, you’ll need levels in both Warrior and Mage. Well, it doesn’t seem like there’s any harm in becoming a Poison-Wielder.

‘Even I cannot promise you that. However, your strength and powers should increase from what you have by staying as a Poison Earth.’

Staying as I am now would be strangling myself, kinda like saving all your potions but ending up not using them. Advancing is always better than stagnating. And that would increase our chances of survival too.

‘Sidegrading classes would also grant bonuses, so that not all progress would be erased.’

Oh, so, if a level 40 Warrior were to sidegrade to a level 1 Mage, the experience from being a Warrior would buff the Mage’s stats to something like level 20?

‘Aye.’

Is that right… Seems like there’s only one choice then. I’ll upgrade to a Poison-Wielder and start getting stronger.

I choose yes.

As soon as I do that, the pale green light fills my surroundings.

You have become a Poison-Wielder!

Yukihisa Kogure Poison-Wielder Level 1 Acquired skills: Spirit Link, Poison Absorption, Poison Release, Synthesize Poison, Detect Poison, Poison Enchantment, Hunting Sense

Whoa… a lot of stuff appeared. Detect Poison has caught my eye, but it seems like Poison Condensation has changed to Synthesize Poison. Poison Enchantment’s kinda interesting as well.

‘I too have those skills. Detect Poison is exactly as it says on the tin. It is a skill in which you use your sensitivity to poison to determine whether or not something is poisonous. Poison Condensation advances into Synthesize Poison. Poison Enchantment is a skill you use on a weapon to enchant it with a temporary poison effect.’

And Hunting Sense… that’s just talent with hunting?

‘It is the same as how magic is, but Sense skills are ones that lead to personal growth. If you earn enough experience, Sense develops into Mastery. With that, you get new magic and attacks. Simply levelling up does not earn you new skills, you know.’

Ah, as I thought then, they’re untapped talents. Then, say if I wanted to do something that I don’t have a knack for, it’d be impossible without the Sense?

‘That is not the case. It might take a lot of time, but if one works hard enough, it is possible to gain Mastery in something. But, if so, it might be a better idea to switch classes into something more appropriate to your wants. And furthermore, there are differences in talent between people. There are some things at which one is simply good or bad.’

Ah, so personal growth is just something that comes with time, while talent that you’re born with is a separate matter. That kinda blows. It’s not like how in game where everybody has something they’re uniquely good at.

‘That unique trait matter you speak of is very interesting, but alas, that is but wishful thinking.’

Too bad, hey?

‘Worry not. The thing about development in one’s attributes is that it is hard to cast magic without the appropriate Sense.’

Is magic an exception? Well, I guess when you think of magic, you think of talent as well.

‘Then what if someone who knows naught but how to work themselves physically? What do you think will happen if they try their utmost? If I were to say that, take for example, if a user of fire magic works very hard, even without a Sense, they too will eventually be able to learn water magic… does that help at all?’

It’s not really clicking. But I guess I kinda get it. What you’re saying is it would be a step in the wrong direction to practice sleight of hand in order to learn supernatural powers. Well, never mind that for a moment. What kind of skill is Hunting Sense anyway?

‘As it says, it is a talent for hunting… talent necessary for hunting. For me, it eliminates my footsteps. Everything from my form to my surprise attacks are relevant to the skill. It is a commonplace yet convenient skills for monsters.’

Veno can only explain from a monster’s point of view. From my experience in games, part of hunting involves bows and arrows. So, I guess weapon use would fall under it too.

‘I see. Certainly, bows and arrows are tools of this trade. Well, at least bows are more prevalent than swords.’

And silent footsteps… I guess it’s easier to understand if I think of it like how the robe gave me camouflage and made me stealthier. If you think about it, there’s lots of different things that this skill could help with.

‘Aye… This is but my personal understanding, but it seems like a Poison-Wielder is a class like Ranger but with more hidden potential.’

That might be true. There’s a lot of importance on hunting for both jobs. I check my status… I feel like my stats are kinda high. I’m still at a low level though, so I’m not too sure. But I still don’t quite get the whole Sense and Mastery thing, considering my Poison Condensation and Poison Release. I don’t get what comes easily and what needs hard work.

‘Take a snake for example. No matter how hard a snake works, a venomous bite is not something that could be learned.’

Ah, I see, I see. That’s something rooted at the very property of a creature. … I don’t like that one bit. What does that mean about me? I was able to use poison from the get-go. That’s not human at all.

‘Being worked up over it still would not change your abilities. Train and work hard for the sake of survival.’

Alright, alright. I’m not the type to give up on living either.

‘Going back to the matter at hand, let me offer my congratulations on your profession change.’

As soon as Veno uttered those words, a crossbow and quiver appeared before my eyes. What’s with this crossbow? It looks like you can load three shots at the same time. And it’s super light too.

Rapid Feather Crossbow +4 Quality: Superior Required level: 15 Bonus effects: Rapid Fire, Semi-Auto Reload Ease of use and rate of fire are the focus of this crossbow. It is made so that even complete novices can effectively wield it. However, the trade off is relatively reduced damage and range.

Flyiron Bolt Bonus effects: Increased Range Crossbow-exclusive ammunition. A bolt made of an alloy of outstanding metals. Made with emphasis on projectile speed and distance.

‘It should be very easy to use, so do be careful about how many bolts you have remaining. Try to not run out of them.’

Well… I know I should master the weapon as soon as possible. I’ll do some target shooting so I can get a good feel of it. But… I’m not high enough level for it. Is that okay?

‘The required level is simply a rough recommendation. What is important is your status. With which location do you have an affinity bonus?’

According to what I found out yesterday, my Poison Absorption works really well in the swamp of poison. I can even regenerate my health there. Plus, it seems like my stats are pretty good even with the crossbow equipped. So that means even though it’s a little out of my level range, I can still do pretty okay with it. For whatever reason.

In any case, I grip the crossbow with both hands and have it at the ready. … it feels nice in my hands, like an airsoft gun does. But since it’s pretty big, I gotta wield with both hands. But even then, it feels rather strange. Maybe because it’s oddly light. Veno, why the hell do you have so many weapons on hand?

‘As I said, they are no more than a few pieces of rare and interesting items I confiscated from the ones I have defeated. It’s just a coincidence that it proved to be beneficial to our situation.’

It worries me to think of what kind of guys would get their equipment seized by Veno. What kind of people were they?

‘They were nobles. They got cocky since they had easy to wield equipment and challenged me.’

Ah, guys who want all of the fun but none of the work. They thought they could defeat a dragon good gear, so they made of bunch of lightweight weapons and armor and picked a fight with Veno.

‘That is it. They rashly challenged me, thus I had to dispel them. I even went easy on them too. Then, I wiped their memories, plucked their gear, and left them in a safe place.’

As if stealing is right.

‘They were intriguing goods, so I put them in my collection. What is wrong with that?’

Oh, that’s right. Dragons have got a tendency to hoard. So, you collect everything thinking that they might come in handy someday, and you’re letting me use your stuff. Is that right?

‘To save our skin. If you perish, then so will I. After things are through and through, I shall have all the time to fulfill my hoarding tendencies.’

That’s certainly true… I get what you’re saying. I guess Veno can satisfy his needs. I mean, with me and my anime figures and nerdy collector goods, till death do us part.

‘These things are not bigger than life. They might be worth more as decoration. Against our class of monsters, equipping these can only be summarized with the word “reckless.”’

That right…?

‘There’s an interesting gimmick to it. Go give it a shake up and down.’

Just as he told me to, I swing the crossbow up and down.’ As I do that, the limbs pull back to full-draw with a ka-chak!. It seems like it’s gotta have some bolts in the magazine… but it loads itself all on its own.

Just to test it out, I point the crossbow at a farther away wall and then squeeze the trigger. The bolt zoomed away and stuck the wall about a meter away from where I was aiming at. On one hand, it’s super light. On the other, mastering it seems like a difficult task.

‘Anything and everything takes practice. Not only is it already easier to wield than a bow, it shall not be a problem for you at all after learning the appropriate skill.’

Maybe it’s because I suddenly have an easy to use weapon and my skills have been raised, but I feel slightly anxious. Well, maybe it’s better than poorly wielding a sword and going into battle. It’s easy to imagine me losing a fight to someone who actually knows how to swing a sword. But because of that, it might be better to have a crossbow, since I can fire it while running away.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations)

[dailyaudiobible]

09/19/2021 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 30:12-33:9, Galatians 5:1-12, Psalms 63:1-11, Proverbs 23:22

Today is the 19th day of September welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is wonderful to be here with you every day, but on these days when we’re starting a brand-new week together we can think about all that hasn't happened yet, and it's…I mean you can do this every day, every month, but it's a fresh start and we get to choose what this week is going to look like. And let's choose wisely by continuing our journey together around the Global Campfire and taking the next step forward together. That leads us back to the book of Isaiah. Today Isaiah chapter 30 verse 12 through 33 verse 9. And we will read from the EHV, the Evangelical Heritage Version this week.

Prayer:

Thank You, Father for Your word. Thank You for bringing us this far. Eight and half months now. And every day You have been faithful, every day You been patient and kind, every day You have walked with us through all of the things that we get ourselves into and all of the things that come our way, that were unexpected. You are always present, and we are grateful. And, so, come Holy Spirit as we begin this brand-new shiny sparkly week. Lead us into all truth. Lead us on the narrow path that leads to life. Be a lamp to our feet and a light to our path, we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey, DABbers this is Micah in Awe Kansas City. Today I was watching this show about mothers in jail and it really had made claustrophobic feeling for them and just felt this pressure and pain they had of not being able to do anything in there and it got me thinking about believers that could be locked up unright…unjustly and just everybody in jail but especially our brothers and sisters in jail, how much of a mental struggle that would be. And I remembered there was a scripture that said we should be praying for our brothers and sisters in jail. I found it. I want to read it real quick. It's Hebrews 13:1-3. Well…this isn't the exact __ spot but anyway. Keep on loving one another as brother and sister. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers for by doing…so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison period and those who are mistreated as if those of you yourselves were suffering. So, today I just want to ask all of you to join me in a movement to pray for our brothers and sisters in jail and even for unbelievers in jail, that God would draw them to himself. And I believe with many prayers going up God can…God will move some things around and maybe we can get some of these people set free. Let's pray particularly for that. Lord we ask this morning or whatever time it is for all these people, we ask that you see these people's cause and see their plight, see what they've done. And we ask for mercy Lord. If they're innocent or if they're not deserving to be in jail for this longer a period, we ask for you to set them free spiritually, supernaturally, send a way that they can be set free and encourage them over their Lord. In Jesus name we pray...

Hello, my beautiful family this is Suzanne calling from Albuquerque. I am calling because I heard Victor from Nigeria call and for whatever reason your plea to be able to come back to the Lord really touched me. You have found the right place. We are home and I just wanted to encourage you to keep listening. This has been one of the most beautiful things that's happened. I mean it's really transformed my life listening to Daily Audio Bible. I had been around for well over 10 years. I lost count after seven years. And I just…it has helped me become so grounded and helped my…my confused mind just to have a much clearer direction. And just to be able to listen to this when I get up in the morning and I'm getting ready for the day and sometimes I'll go back and listen to the certain things later. Sometimes I miss it but then I just try to listen to two the next day or…but I just…it's been such a blessing. And, so, you have found home and we are opening our arms for you. Just know that we are supporting you and listening and loving you. And I know that Jesus is so…there was no accident you found us. So, welcome home brother, Victor in Nigeria.

This is __ from __ again. I just wanted to call in with a praise report. My wife contracted COVID. I've been through a lot of health issues. I have COPD bad. I'm on the highest dose of Trelegy before oxygen. And ss soon as she contracted COVID, found out she was positive she got her brother, and she was crying. Shes’…tell her brother we've been married 32 years and that she was gonna lose me, and the whole family thought that they were going to lose me. And everybody prayed about it, and I ended up not having it as bad as she did. I just think that the Lord works in mysterious ways and I think He's got something for me planned. I don't know what it is yet but whatever it is I'm more than willing to do it. And then her, my wife's father has COPD really bad too and we really prayed for him. He…he went into the hospital but now he's out of the hospital and he's doing well. I just…I just think that's great and that's just a…the way the world works because. He takes good such good care of us. I just wanted to share that this morning. And I wanted to everyone to know I'm praying for ‘em and I love my DAB family.

Good morning, everyone actually afternoon, or it could be evening where you are at. This is Christy from Kentucky. I wanted to call and share something that happened today that was so beautiful. ASnd I'm like Lord I just want to share this with people who will understand, and I know that my family will understand. I've been having a rough couple days. I guess I’ve got just kind of the Blues a little bit from wondering, is this ever going to end? I'm one of those older individuals that have chosen to isolate and really just try to spend time with the Lord and use this time like turning lemons into lemonade. And but the last couple of days I've kind of been weary. Well, this morning when I got up I went in to make myself a cup of coffee and all the sudden the most beautiful fragrance filled the kitchen and I looked around to see if maybe my husband had, you know, lit a candle or just trying to figure out where this beautiful fragrance was coming from and there was no answer. And then I knew. I knew what was going on. I had the most beautiful moment and it had something playing on my phone and I turned that off and I asked my little Google home hub just to play some worship music. All the sudden this music came on. It was called “back to the altar” __ worship __ and I had the most beautiful moment in the presence of God. And that fragrance, that fragrance, so beautiful. And I just wanted to call and thank the Lord for that moment. I needed to be refreshed. He's so faithful.

Good evening family this is Penelope on Louisville KY and I'm calling this evening to ask for prayer for a dear friend's son. He was shot on Labor Day weekend during a road rage incident, and he is in critical condition in the ICU, and he is an induced coma as they try and allow the swelling in his brain to go down. He was shot through the eye and the bullet passed through his eye and out the back of his brain. And they of course don't know the extent of damage. His skull will need to be reconstructed but he's definitely lost that eye. And it's one of those situations where you are really not sure what to pray. And, so, I'm asking for prayer for miraculous healing and for restoration and for redemption and for the…for his whole family, for my friend who is his stepdad but who has raised him since he was a toddler, for his mother, for his younger brother, and for his grandparents, just for the whole family. They are just all devastated as you can imagine. And…but especially for Rob. He was raised in church as a young child, but I don't know what his relationship with the Lord has been like over the last decade or so. I don't…I don't know. But my prayer is that if he has not accepted Christ as a savior that that will happen. Thank you, family.

[princelysharkhusband]

SidonxReader (Promises Pt1)

Pairing: Prince Sidon x Reader (LoZ:BotW) Genre: Romance???lolwhatelseareukiddinme Summary: The first time Prince Sidon was allowed...no asked to travel further away from his home than ever before. And for no less reason than to find help to save his people from a threat that his father had yet to explain to him! With only a small silver crest, a map and his best friend Link he makes his way to the first temple in order to remind the goddess herself of a long forgotten promise. What he finds there is not what he expected.

((Pls tell me if you want more))

You were slumbering in silence. Listening to the whispers of the fairies and the wilds. Of ghosts and dreams. Had you ever yearned for something? Was there a reason to be here? If there had been- you had long forgotten. And so you lay sleeping soundly in your cocoon of forgetting and being forgotten.

Until one day… …the Silence was broken after nearly a hundred years.

 ‚Someone is coming…‘

Forgotten and overgrown. Hidden deep in the wilderness of Hyrule lay the ancient Temple adorned with withered carvings in its stone walls and pillars. It had been long, so long since people had stopped visiting the once proud structure. ‚Wake up…. ‘ You stirred. Faint glowing made your presence in the depth of the ruins known. A light only visible to those touched by the goddess’ blessing. Let me sleep… ‚They are coming! ‘ The energy flowing through your form grew stronger, engulfing you in soft blue light. They were right, someone was coming. You felt their footsteps on the mossy floor of the temples hallways as if it was your own body they touched.  After all, these ruins had once been crafted and built just for you. A place of worship. You slowly sat up and let your feet dangle from the ledge of the statue that was and had been for years and years, your resting place. Your eyes fell upon the visitors that your fairy friends had announced to you- a small Hylian and… a fish out of water, you smiled to yourself. The Hylian was no rare sight to see, you thought to yourself, as you leaned forward looking them up and down with interest. The Zora though- should not be so far from his watery lands. Won’t he dry up and shrivel to death? „I’d never think I’d see such an amazing temple! The architecture must be from hundreds of years ago-„ The large, scaled one exclaimed at which your chest swelled a little with pride. „- but Link, it seems like it’s abandoned. What could there be for us to find here? Are you sure this is the right place?“ You pouted a little, following his gestures to the crumbling stones and nearly fossilized flowers in vases covered with layers upon layers of dust. Abandoned. As much as it hurt you to admit it, the red-scaled Zora was right. You sighed and rested your head against the smooth marble statue of yourself- the only time you had let yourself be seen by a mortal. To get this fancy statue that captured your beauty. It sure was an eye catcher- even the two men stared at it. The young Hylian stayed silent but furrowed his brow slightly. For a second you could have sworn that the boy had looked you in the eye. Nonsense. Mortals like these two shouldn’t be able to spot an ethereal being like you were unless you wanted them to. After All- you were a tear drop of the goddess herself- a child of far superior of descent than a mere Hylian or Zora. Once upon a time, people from far away, from all over Hyrule, had come this way- just to pray to you! As if to prove you right, the boy pulled out a tattered old map from his pocket. He turned and rotated it, studying the paper intently. His comrade walked closer to the statue and you eyed his hands as the sharp nailed fingers slowly traced the shape of its leg. Touching the statue was unusual,( most people in the past had stared in awe and simply left flowers and other gifts on the pedestal)…but you could forgive it this time. „Hm!“ Your attention snapped back to the two standing in front of your ‚altar‘ , as you liked to call it.

The Hylian had stuffed the map back in his pocket, probably deducing that this was indeed the place they intended to be in. He knelt down, rummaging through a small pouch on his belt until he produced a small container of sorts, adorned with shimmering scales and shells, made from probably the finest silver you had seen in your long life. A tribute? A gift? Did these guys come to pray to you for something? You hovered down to get a better look at the silver thing. That ‚Link‘ guy opened the container with quick fingers. Inside were some strange flowers and some colourful sticks. You were still wondering what those where when he quickly scratched one of them across the coarse ground. A bright red light blinded everyone for a second before the flame receded to a smaller size. Pretty. „Beautiful. “ The Zora had also knelt down. His eyes fixated on the dazzling light in his friends hands . „I am glad you agreed to help me- I would have never known what to do with these otherwise- flames and fire aren’t something you see a lot back at home in the Zora’s domain.“ His gaze shifted up tot he even features of the female statue. „ Truly, I see more and more beautiful things the longer we travel. “ You blushed a little, unsure if he was just rambling or if the last comment was directed at the statue for real. However, you did take a good look at the Zora. He had pretty golden eyes. And his face and body looked much more handsome than the crude drawings of children and ancient artists that had made their way to your altar on rare occasions. A statue of him wouldn’t look too bad as well, you surmised.

The three of you know knelt on the floor, with you being at least one head taller than link, but the Zora whose name you hadn’t heard yet still towering over you by quite a bit.

Link lit a another stick, a blue one this time, and then another one in yellow before he sat back, the lights in his hands, looking at his friend expectantly. „Huh? OH! Right- „ The guy with the red scales scooted closer to the small silver chest and took the flowers out of it. The tiny, foreign petals looked lost in his big palm. Link extended his hand with the still burning blue, red and yellow flames while the other one lifted his hand with the flowers in it. They both stood up, with you still on the floor between them, wondering what all the fuss was about. Then, the Zora turned to your statue and raised his voice. „I, Sidon, Prince of the Zora, come today to ask for the goddess to fulfil a promise made 200 years ago. We ask for your help. Please…save the Zora.” Silence. You floated back to your statue, looking down at him and Link. Although, you felt a little tingly in your stomach, you knew nothing would happen. After all- you were not the goddess. And even if it was simple name confusion- you had never made a promise about anything pertaining to Zora people. Not that you knew of. “Will this do? Shouldn’t ….something…happen?” Sidon looked at Link, who in turn looked up to him. The young one gave him a confused look. He was just as puzzled as he was. I am sorry, Prince…you just wasted your time…but I’ll make sure to mention you should the goddess ever bless me with her voice and ear… “Maybe it’s not working…maybe we are too late? No, surely not! This can’t be all there is to it!? Goddess! Hear our plea!” Again, the temple was filled with silence. Sidon stared at the statue. The colourful shades of light tinted the even features of the female, almost as if giving life to the cold stone. He dropped his shoulders, defeated, and closed his fingers around the dried corals in his palm. Maybe everything was too late. His father hadn’t told him what peril was to come over the Zora but he felt it deep in his heart that his father would have not sent him out if the lives of his people depended on it. And he failed him. Failed all of them. A rare rush of anger flashed through the usually calm and collected prince and he firmly balled his hand into a fist. The feeling of guilt was crushing him- and in this moment of desperation, he had crushed the corals in his hand, pulverizing them so not a single one was left intact. He opened his palm, watching the brightly coloured dust fall from his hand like the sand in an hourglass. Sidon sighed, then he straightened his back again. His smile looked a bit unsure at first, but he managed to show his white teeth to the Hylian at his side. “Well, we might not be able to ask Hylia for her help- but the least we can do is to try and protect the Zora ourselves! Will you help me, Link?” The blonde Hylian boy smiled back and nodded. “I knew I could count on you! Wonderful- let’s make haste then and hurry back to the domain of the Zora!” This time, he smiled a real, confident smile. The sticks in Links hand were still burning, albeit a little less shiny than before. The large zora grabbed them from the small warriors hand and blew them out, leaving on the floor of the temple before he turned his back on the statue. Oh great, now they left their trash in your temple… And they left you alone as well… At least you could go back to sleep and forget about them. Especially about the stupidly golden eyes of the fish guy, you decided. Your stomach was still tingling, and something….was starting to smell rather strangely. You were not the only one smelling the strange scent. The Hylian had taken longer to walk out the altar room, with his legs being shorter and all. He turned around a last time, sniffing the air and looking on the floor where the Prince had left the blown out sticks. Only, they weren’t completely blown out. The gleaming sticks started to crackle back to life, spurred on by the coral dust underneath them. Billows of smoke started to fill the room as the crackling sound got louder and louder. Had they set fire to your temple?! The smell was sweet and smoky and strangely salty as well. It made you nauseous and did not in the least help soothe the growing tingling sensation in your stomach. You pressed your eyes shut. “What in Hylia….” even the Fish person had realized that he had set something in motion. But what? You coughed and wheezed- not even being an ethereal being like you were saved you from the dizzy spell that the burning of those strange flowers brought with them.

The fairies flew around you in panic. Something strange was happening here and before you knew it your world was turned upside down; you felt as if a whirlwind had taken you up in its arms, flinging you around and from side to side until it got bored toying with you- whacking you against the cold stone image of yourself with crushing force. The pain was unbearable and unknown to you. Not in the hundreds of year of your life had you ever felt so much hurt and ache in your body. You dared not move for fear of more pain. You didn’t even breathe.

 Wrong. You couldn’t.

You realized with  horror that you could not breath. You wanted to scream, thrash, kick but your body didn’t listen as if it was frozen in place. Goddess…what is happening to me?! You put all of your power and all of your being into one last scream one silent wail before you surely died, or so you thought, when something around you shattered. The death grip on your chest loosened. You could hear and feel it crumbling away all around you as your body freed itself from the cracking prison. Sidon stared in awe at the thick wafts of smoke that slowly vanished in front of his eyes. He still smelled the sweet and salty scent of the burnt corals when he laid eyes upon the room again. Now finally, something had happened. The statue on the pedestal was crumbling away. And inside…

  …was something just as wondrous.

 The sweetest whimper was heard as the figure inside the statue worked their way to free itself from the grasp of the stone it was trapped in. Crumbling rocks scattered everywhere while smooth hands and limbs weakly moved. A final layer of stone and dust fell to the floor. There she was- a perfect copy…or rather the original?...of the statue he had admired before. A slender form with pale skin and alluring curves and silken hair emerged on shaky legs. Specs of glowing marks on her skin; the same colour of her hair; illuminated the immediate air around her. It took the Zora prince not even a split second to get to her when he realized the girl was about to tumble off the pedestal. He was there with two swift steps and caught her in his strong arms. ‘Light as a bubble’, he thought, holding her close to his chest while he waited for her to find her balance. “Why, hello there!” He said with a welcoming smile. The girl perked up at his words. She looked at him, his face, then his arms holding her and then lastly his face again. He kept his smile, waiting for her to say something. “You…” It soon faltered when he noticed the expression on her face change from dumbfounded to angry. “…WHAT IN HYLIA DID YOU DO TO ME?!”

[diem-writes]

1 hour ficlet batch 6 #2

Three words from the three words prompt challenge and only 1 hour to get a good story with them. @suzurei Thank you, this was so much fun. :}

If you like this story or any of the other 1 hour ficlets, please consider sending in a prompt.

Touch of Heaven

“I'm very sorry Mr. and Mrs. Nikiforov but we can not register your request to achieve a marriage license for your son.”

The woman behind the desk looks from her monitor to the two distinguished people standing in front of her desk. Although the looks on their faces is everything but proper right now, the woman looks like she's about to have a nervous fit, and the man is turning red in the face with an alarming speed.

“This is preposterous! I demand you tell me right this moment why we are unable to get a license. We already were told we had to wait till he was twelve before we could legalize this arrangement when we tried to get it officialiced right after he was born! There should be no legal deposition for us not to be able to get these bloody papers.”

Mr. Nikiforov trembles from utter rage. It took him years to hash out this deal with the Karetnikovs, they would not like it very much if they could not hand over the final papers very soon. He gives his wife a sour look, he bet it's her less than ideal background that's preventing this paperwork from happening. That is when you decide to marry for looks instead of proper lineage.

“We can't provide you with the papers sir as our system states your son has already been spoken for.” The woman shivers when cold grey eyes settle on her.  

“What do you mean my son is already spoken for! I know he is already spoken for! That is why I need those papers! So that the family he will marry into can arrange everything for the bloody bounding ceremony!”

The woman takes another look on her screen and very carefully presses the emergency button hidden under her desk, alerting one of her supervisors to come to investigate the situation.

Soon enough a very stately gentleman walks over to the desk and calmly asks if there is anything he can help with. Mr. Nikiforov wastes no breath in pointing at her in an accusative way.

“This woman is refusing to hand over my sons marriage license so that my wife and I can finally get the paperwork for his intended marriage with Karlof Karetnikov finalized. The boy is already nearing his thirteenth birthday, if we have to wait any longer no one will even want him anymore.”

The man gives a curt nod and slides into the chair the woman vacated for him.

“Let me see.” The man looks at the data on his screen, he takes a second look before turning to the woman to get confirmation. “Oh. Well.”

He slowly stands up, rubbing his hands together nervously. Mr. Nikiforov does not like the look on the man's face when he finally looks at him.

“I'm sorry to inform you, but we can not provide you with your sons marriage license as it seems he is already been spoken for before he was born. And before you interrupt, the name of his intended is not Russian.” The man looks back at the screen. “It seems your son is to be wed to one of the Angels that keep the balance.” he makes a quick bow. “My deepest apologies for this. As it is the case that we will have to report this.

“What do you mean?” it are the first words spoken by Mrs. Nikiforov since approaching the desk.

“The Angels don't often allow a mortal marry one of their ranks. If anything he'll need to be educate into the proper conducts to even be allowed to interact with them.”

Mrs. Nikiforov folds her hands in front of her mouth. “Oh, my baby is going to be a priest.” Tears start running down her cheeks. “It has always been my dream to be a non, but I was deemed less than suited. This means so much to me.”

Mr. Nikiforov stares at her with horror stricken eyes. He had never known this desire of her, which means it really is her fault for the situation they are in. he's going to lose his business because his wife prayed to much to the heavens to make her a non when she was younger.

“You won't have to do anything, the service will pick him up from school and take him into the Seminary for his education.” The gentleman smiles. “And about the other family, just know that we have laws that will prevent them from coming after you for this. The law of the Angels come first after all.”

Almost fifteen years later.

Victor looks down to his priest robes, rubbing them down a bit with moist hands. He's nervous, bloody nervous, today will be the day he will meet his intended. Today he will meet the Angel that made his father cut all ties with him and his mother. Remarrying within the year of Victor being brought into the Seminary.

He sighs realizing he never even met his younger brothers, Only hearing about the oldest of the twins being bonded to the son of Karlof Karetnikov a little over a year ago. He send a present but it was returned unopened.

He looks at himself in the mirror, wishing his mother could see him though. The divorce had hit her hard as she had been cut off from any benefits. She had tried, but she had been too old and no one wanted to work with her after her past had been revealed. She would have been so bloody proud of him. He smiles at thinking what she would say about him still using 'bloody' as a swear word.

“Victor? Are you ready? They are here.”

Georgi gives him a tentative look, after his own intended wedding went a bust he joined the Seminary in hopes to find redemption. He was accepted without much ado, he and Victor became friends fairly quickly.

Victor takes a deep breath, takes one last look over his dark robe, and turns to walk over to Georgi to enter the ship of the Cathedral. Once they enter he is startled to see a larger than average delegation than with any Angel marriage he was yet part of. His eyes flicker to Georgi who looks as startled as him.

“Is it me or is every Angel in existence present?” A quick look to a darker section makes it clear that even a large congregation of fallen Angels have decided to come see the ceremony. Who ever thought they would be able to do so. Georgi swallows. “Victor. I think it has to be one of exceptional high regard for so many to come see his bonding ceremony?”

All Victor can do is nod before the music changes to indicate he has to walk up to the altar.

“Dearly beloved, those of the light, those that have parted way with us, and those living to honor us, we are here today to oversee the bonding of Victor Nikiforov with Archangel Yuuriel. Say praise.”

“Praise!”

Hundreds of voices ring through the ship sending shivers down Victor's spine.

“Victor Nikiforov stand to your feet and meet your life's partner. Know that you will be his for every heartbeat still allotted to you in this life and every other here thereafter. Do you accept.”

Victor looks at the Angel overseeing the ceremony, he has to blink for a moment. Did he just state that he would bind himself to this Angel not just till death as is the common phrasing in the ceremony but for as long as his soul exists. That is not something he had thought of before, but he sees no real harm in it as it will mean he is loved for eternity.

“I accept.”

“Very well. Yuuriel, come forth and bind this man to you for now till all has come to past.”

Slowly a hooded figure moves out from the ranks of Angels standing behind the altar. Victor almost sighs wishing he would be permitted to see upon his Angels face, knowing fully well no man is permitted to look upon the true form of an Angel and live to tell.

The Angel stands before him holding the white board that will prove his new rank as bonded priest. The calm resolve that moves between them when Yuuriel slips the board around his neck sends a shiver down his spine. He is now and till the end of time the bonded partner to this Angel.

Yuuriel places a gloved hand on his shoulder, making Victor kneel to him. To his amazement the Angel leans forward brushing their lips over the shell of his ear in a mockery of a kiss, before kissing his cheek in a feather light move.

“Wait for me in your chambers tonight. You may look upon me there when we consummate this union.” There is no hesitation in Victor to nod at that.

If you like this story or any of the other 1 hour ficlets, please consider sending in a prompt to get one for yourself.

buy me a ko-fi

[dfroza]

have the Letter read to all.

for in such inspired words we have received the faith to trust and to “believe...” in Love.

that Love is real and True. and that Love will perfectly restore everything that is broken at some point.

for we are not children of darkness, but of Light.

and although we don’t know exactly when this will take place, we can still trust in its promise which is seen in the writing of Paul’s Letter at the close of 1st Thessalonians as Today’s reading, beginning with this line translated in The Message:

I don’t think, friends, that I need to deal with the question of when all this is going to happen. You know as well as I that the day of the Master’s coming can’t be posted on our calendars. He won’t call ahead and make an appointment any more than a burglar would.

The Letter of 1st Thessalonians, Chapter 5:1-2 (The Message)

and the whole chapter in The Passion Translation:

[God’s Times and Seasons]

Now, beloved brothers and sisters, concerning the question of God’s precise times and specific seasons, you don’t need me to write anything to you. For you already know quite well that the day of the Lord will come unexpectedly and as a complete surprise. For while some are saying, “Finally we have peace and security,” sudden destruction will arrive at their doorstep, like labor pains seizing a pregnant woman—and with no chance of escape!

But you, beloved brothers and sisters, are not living in the dark, allowing that day to creep up on you like a thief coming to steal. For you are all children of the light and children of the day. We don’t belong to the night nor to darkness. This is why we must not fall asleep, as the rest do, but keep wide awake and clearheaded. For those who are asleep sleep the night away, and drunkards get drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, we must stay alert and clearheaded by placing the breastplate of faith and love over our hearts, and a helmet of the hope of salvation over our thoughts. For God has not destined us to experience wrath but to possess salvation through our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One. He gave his life for us so that we may share in resurrection life in union with him—whether we’re awake or asleep. Because of this, encourage the hearts of your fellow believers and support one another, just as you have already been doing.

Dear brothers and sisters, make sure that you show your deep appreciation for those who cherish you and diligently work as ministers among you. For they are your leaders who care for you, teach you, and stand before the Lord on your behalf. They value you with great love. Because of their service to you, let peace reign among yourselves.

We appeal to you, dear brothers and sisters, to instruct those who are not in their place of battle. Be skilled at gently encouraging those who feel themselves inadequate. Be faithful to stand your ground. Help the weak to stand again. Be quick to demonstrate patience with everyone. Resist revenge, and make sure that no one pays back evil in place of evil but always pursue doing what is beautiful to one another and to all the unbelievers.

Let joy be your continual feast. Make your life a prayer. And in the midst of everything be always giving thanks, for this is God’s perfect plan for you in Christ Jesus.

Never restrain or put out the fire of the Holy Spirit. And don’t be one who scorns prophecies, but be faithful to examine them by putting them to the test, and afterward hold tightly to what has proven to be right. Avoid every appearance of evil.

Now, may the God of peace and harmony set you apart, making you completely holy. And may your entire being—spirit, soul, and body—be kept completely flawless in the appearing of our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One. The one who calls you by name is trustworthy and will thoroughly complete his work in you.

Now, beloved ones, pray for us.

Greet every brother and sister with a sacred kiss.

I solemnly plead with you before the Lord to make sure that every holy believer among you has the opportunity to hear this letter read to them.

Grace from our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen!

The Letter of 1st Thessalonians, Chapter 5 (The Passion Translation)

A chapter of the New Testament that is accompanied by chapter 17 in the book of Exodus in which God instructs Moses to write down the events that took place as a memorial:

The entire community of Israel traveled in stages out of the desert of Sin, just as the Eternal instructed. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water there to quench their thirst. Once again the people complained to Moses.

Israelites: Give us water to drink! We’re thirsty.

Moses: Why do you aim your complaints at me? Why are you testing the Eternal One?

But the people were so thirsty for water, they complained to Moses and leveled accusations against him.

Israelites: Why did you lead us out of Egypt? Was it to kill all of us—our children and livestock included—with this thirst?

Moses had had enough of their complaints, so he cried out to the Eternal One.

Moses: What am I supposed to do with these people and their relentless complaining? They are on the verge of stoning me.

Eternal One (to Moses): Here’s what I want you to do: go on ahead of the people and take some of the elders of Israel with you. Also, be sure to bring your shepherd’s staff—the one with which you struck the Nile. I will be there when you arrive standing at the rock of Horeb. I want you to strike the rock with your staff; and when you do, water will flow out of it so that everyone will have enough to drink.

The elders of Israel accompanied Moses and watched as he did what the Eternal directed.

Moses named the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites complained and tested the Eternal, saying, “Is He standing with us or not?”

While the Israelites were camped at Rephidim, soldiers of Amalek came and attacked them. Moses called for a young leader named Joshua.

Moses (to Joshua): Select some of our best men, and go fight against the soldiers of Amalek. Tomorrow I will stand at the crest of that hill overlooking the battlefield with God’s staff in my hand.

Joshua did exactly as Moses had instructed him to do. He gathered the strongest men he could find and fought against the soldiers of Amalek. Meanwhile, Moses, Aaron, and Hur climbed to the top of the hill.

It happened that whenever Moses raised his hand, the battle went well for Israel; but whenever he lowered his hand to rest, Amalek began to win. When Moses became too tired to hold his hands up any longer, Aaron and Hur took a stone and sat him down on it. Then both men stood beside Moses, one on each side, holding his hands up and keeping them steady until sunset. In the end, Joshua and the men of Israel defeated Amalek and his soldiers with the sword.

Eternal One (to Moses): Write down what I say on a scroll as a memorial record of these events, and read it aloud so Joshua can hear: “I will erase all traces of the memory of Amalek from under heaven.”

Then Moses constructed an altar and called it, “The Eternal Is My Battle Flag.”

Moses: Because Amalek raised a defiant hand against the throne of the Eternal, He has promised to wage war against Amalek through future generations.

The Book of Exodus, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, April 3 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

[thelightprevails]

All Vestal Barks

Thanks to @creepazoid-class-s for pointing me in the right direction

All Vestal Barks under the cut (you don’t want a post that long, trust me)

Afflicted

Note: Quotes come from different events after affliction (camping skill usage, moving forward/back, not accepting healing, etc)

Fearful

I am not up to this task, Light forgive me! I will not fear martyrdom. I will not! Light, grant me passage through these cursed halls… Verse XXI: Heathens alone fear death... Spare me this one time, oh Light. Please spare me... Has the Light forsaken us? Deliver me, oh holy Flame... The shadows are crawling. This place is alive with evil! The Light is eclipsed! No! NOOO! They are too strong! Get back! Their eyes are cold with murder! Dark whispers bind me! Blackness... so much paralyzing blackness... I... I can't move... Light protect me! These shadows are unnatural - unholy! I have had a vision! Our deaths are imminent! The holy Flame whispers of torture and misery! Flame... oh Flame... why do you forsake me? I have been so very faithful! And yet... now I suffer!? No! No, please, NOOO! Leave me be! PLEASE! No! NOOOO! Keep away from me! Now I know my end has come.... No... No, please... (bursts into sobs) (tears streaming) Spare me... spare me... spare me... I have known despair. Yet the fear of imminent death... (shudder) Gods, how I long for the safety of the convent... The sacred Flame flickers... The path falls to darkness. Verse LXI: When all is lost, stand firm. The Flame endures. I... I cannot read the ritual while I shudder so... I am trying... but the Light denies a disquieted soul. There's no time for that. Evil is drawn to my purity.

Paranoid

You are all godless, luring me to my end! You test me? Shall I demonstrate the power of faith? Stop staring at me. I know your mind! Verse XXV: trust not armed men, for they seek to wound. You mock me behind my back! Do not deny it! That stone...it gazes at me! Must watch their eyes. They all know of my vows... There is a presence here. Dark and foul. They will sell us to slavers if they defeat us! Ugh! Their foul taint is anathema to my virtue! Sin swirls about them... Do not breathe their air! I alone am the bearer of the Light! The Verses command patience! I'll not defy them! The darkness plays tricks, I will hold fast. Cowards!  You reject the Light! I can decide for myself! I am no scullery girl! Hands off! I command myself, thank you! Conspiracy, all around me... Something disrupts my prayer. An unholy presence... Verse XII: quick-burning fires herald pain and torture. Don't deny your lust, it's… fully apparent. I will not sit idly by and wait for your betrayal! I can smell deceit. I've lived among much worse than you! And betray my honor? Is that what you want? My virtue far outweighs your falsity. So we stay. They know I serve the fire! They seek my death! I KNOW them! They are foes of the Flame! My purity is attracting them! They can smell it! I like not how that one is looking at me! I know a liar when I see one. You missed on purpose! Traitor! You could not have missed so easily! TRAITOR! Someone has trained them... We have been tricked! You LET yourself be hit... Why would that be? Ha! I see your mind! Stay there, you... filthy lech. Oh, yes, any chance to brush by the virgin. I see. Why? To tarnish my pure soul? You are jealous! Stand away! Faith alone will heal me! Don't touch me! The Devil works through you! The Light is quite enough for me, thank you. I deny your shamanism, kind though it may seem. Don't touch me! The Darkness works through you! Verse XII: Forbid thyself from incurring debts! I cannot trust you! And reveal my secrets? I think not. ... No. This is intimacy masquerading as aid. I'll not sully my virtue like that. It's... improper. Verse CXI: The pure shall refuse all strangers' gifts. We are becoming too familiar. I shall cope alone. The Verses forbid me to eat this... whatever this is. The Verses say nothing about fuzzy bread... hmmm... "Going without" is the chief tenet of vestalhood... I decline. The Light shall nourish me.

Masochistic

Through suffering, I will know my faith! Verse XIII: only the faithless fear death. My mortified flesh armors me against your hate! My blood is my penance. Take it, heretic! Ha! The Light has already burned away all feeling! Only through pain shall we know forgiveness! The pain only proves my devotion! Only the unfaithful fear death! I am the Light's martyr - strike me down! You cannot harm me! I bear the holy Flame! Their lashes will fuel the hearth within! I relish my trials, I relish my wounds! Spill my blood! Its purity shall exorcise you! I hurl myself on the altar of faith! Pain is the gateway to divinity! We die today. Consumed in the Flame of hope. Pain is the gateway to divinity! I sacrifice myself for the good of the Light! My blood will purify you! The Flame grants power through sacrifice! Hear me, Flame! This blood is yours! Now grant me POWER! These marks reveal my faith. The Flame fears nothing -- no pain, no defeat. (deep inhale) Yes... again! It hurts, yes... But also... (blesses herself) Please, please! End this life of slavery! I BEG YOU! NOOO! The Flame calls to me! Send me to the Flame! Yes... Your pain makes you powerful. No! Take me instead! I... I have sinned so grievously! No. The Flame tests my fear of death. I must face it. My resolve is weak here. I must train it more fully I thrive on pain. It's the way of my order. Let me endure it a bit first. It rejuvenates my soul. No! The Light commands my pain! Take your hands off me... unless you seek to wound me further! My vows demand I refuse. You wouldn't understand. The Light demands my blood! Stay back! My power wanes grows as my wounds mount! Save your blessings! The Light relishes in my suffering! A brush with death can truly purify the spirit. The Mother Superior would be right to impose ten lashings instead... In my life, suffering has been a potent motivator... Pain is a gift from the holy Flame. I cherish it. I can take more yet. Save your folksy charms.

Abusive

I am chosen - you are nothing! May the Light bring courage to you pathetic cast-offs! Stop soiling yourself and fight! Blasphemers! You offend my ears AND my eyes! That I should be made to breathe the air AND your stink.. Appalling! God favors not the meek! Find some courage or burden me no more! Light forsake you, you fiends! Burn and die, craven beasts! You are faithless, but the Light gives me strength! I banish you, demons! Holy Flame, cauterize the wound of their existence! I'll strike you all down if you get in my way. Silence! I am praying for your worthless souls! Your rude tongues offend the Light. And me. Unholy wretch! I will teach you some propriety! Burn! Burn in effigy to the Light! Impressive. But the sacred fire grants superior power. ... I could do better. Given half a chance. Eight year-old girls in the convent are better trained... I could fight better in my temple garments... I am ashamed to be in your presence. How uninspiring you are. Sigh. Don't touch me! I know your.. type. Oh yes, a simple touch on the shoulder now. But what later? I'll not lay my hands upon you... defilers. Oh? Shall I next bless the innkeeper's wench? The Light prescribes my blessings upon the worthy alone! I see you worrying that stone. That is idolatry. Ugh. And will you read my palm next, you vile peddler?

Selfish

The Light guides me, and only me. Pay a donation to the church and I will bless your weapon. Cast aside your gods. Mine alone is the one holy Light. Give me your jewels and I will absolve you of idolatry. Collection plate! Please give freely! Surely the Light has grander plans for me? Your grunting and crying is disturbing my focus! Silence, all! I will now sing a battle hymn! I am chosen! Their souls must suffer the flame! I cannot see the enemy! Move over! The Light... commands me to serve in other ways. Curses, my hair is tangled in my gorget! A moment! I can't read the Verses in this light! Ah, that's better. My faith alone is the measure of purity! I walk my own path! No. The time is not yet right. The Light's rewards are for me alone! My power came at a great price. I use it as I wish. The Light alone commands me. None else have the right. I alone hold this pitiful group together. Yes, ten percent for the church! This was discussed! Give your share to the Light and all will be forgiven. For that, I claim your soul! FOR THE FLAME! Ungh! For these injuries, I require a greater fee! Let me kill it! Its soul must perish by my hand! Leave that one to me! I must cauterize its existence! You know, for a donation, the Flame may grant you skill. Yes, distract that one while I do the real work. I am quite used to keeping what is mine, thank you. Verse VI: Preserve thine own virtue above all else. Feh!  Only the light can guide my actions!

Depressed (Hopeless? It’s called Depressed in the files)

There is no higher purpose here... This mission frays my spirits... Why does everyone hate me? Even the mother superior... Even the destitute of spirit refuse the Light. Why? Verse LXVIII: Pray to the Light, for it will grant you joy... Why have I been abandoned? Verse XXXIV: pride is the path to foolishness... I feel cold. Dark... My faith... is a lie. Why slow the inevitable? Damnation awaits me. What is the point of life, of faith? I am unworthy. I cannot carry the Light. I cannot lead. I am too... inexperienced. Take my place. You are stronger than I. Where there is no Light, there can be no hope... Shhh... not even the Light can save us now. Call down the Flame yourself. It heeds me no longer. I am just a shadow in the dark - nothing at all. I am no hero! Just a little girl in a woman's garb! Poor experience begets poor decisions... The holy Verses no longer resonate, all is lost. Dark times, these. Demons and undead plague the land. The holy flame flickers. 'Tis a black omen. I will burn in blackness... And so shall you! Join me! Join me in the black world, denizens of evil! I care not about judgment... I tire of slavery. Flame, consume me. What cowardice. No. I shall at least die with some dignity. If the Flame cannot suffice, then the Flame has done with me. The power of virtue will save me... I hope This is my destiny, let me be. I am well enough. Go, help the others. Verse CXV: when health wanes, only prayer can restore it. There is nothing without the Light. Stop. I am tainted enough already... With every touch or glance, my resolve is corrupted... No blessing in the world will make any difference now. Verse LXI: Always know -- never exceed -- thy limits. The Light cannot illuminate one shrouded in black... My life, wasted.  There is no power in faith. I have defied so many Verses... It is futility. Why do they scoff at the Verses? Do I misrepresent them? Not unlike the last meal of an unchaste vestal...

Irrational

There is Light in the stones! And in the smiles of flies! My eyes are on fire... So beautiful, I must gouge them out! The Versebook is in my hand. I tear a bit and eat it. Mmm. Verse XVI: the meek shall... Lords, this scroll is heavy. Fetch me a newborn lamb. I must make an offering. Now! A fine crystal shatters! Pottery cracks! My flesh turns black! My eyes splinter! You are but children! Motherless children! The verses number 36 and so too the constellations! There is music in the air! LA, LA-LOO, LA-LOOEEOOOAAA! Take my arm, like the ladies on the promenade! Weee! It was a beautiful hymn, sung by the pigs of St. Martha's. My gloves are soiled, and they in turn soil the holy pages! A candle in the dark! Burn, burn, BURN! The stars and sun are of the same Light, yet I see neither... One stunted tree in a fruiting orchard... The Flame flickers... I see now... Shadows are the children of Light... That Sister Abigail... always a cheat. Lord, this chastity belt chafes. Pass the lamp oil. Mutilation is a most holy act. Any takers? Demons, all. You, my mother, my father... all. Anoint yourself with my holy blood, and be damned. The fire burns within me! I wield it like a blade! You all seek my virtue! But it is not mine to give! FIRE AND DEATH! I will be no mother, "superior" or otherwise... HOLD YOUR GROUND! YOU SHAME THE FIRE! FLEE NOW, YES! AND MAY THE FIRE DAMN YOUR COWARD SOUL! Mother! MOTHER! Please! Be kind to me, Sisters! The hissing embers... like a choir of the faithful. I am a Flame -- a beacon to the devout. Mother - Father!  Too late!  The convent has taken me... Hah!  Even the pigs of St. Martha's can carry that tune! But I am only a child. How can you ask that of me... How... I ask thee, oh Flame: is it privilege... or slavery? You will burn for that. .. BUUURRRRRRRRNNNNNN! (sobbing uncontrollably) I hear the song of the sisterhood. The burning women... You too shall burn. There is no escape. You touched me... you touched me... you touched me... Your heat... it is noticeable... Does the Flame also feel? I don't need anything, not even my faith! Hahaha... I have known much darkness. But this seems so very... inky! It's full of stars - beautiful and horrifying! Nonsense! I need only bay leaf and cow urine! The whip. The cat. The lash. The scourge. I cannot accept help from the faithless... I descend into the black lake below. I am lost... Horrors! The Flame turns glaucous and crepuscular! My versebook pages flutter on the wind - like butterflies! They whipped us in the Convent, day and night... I am tired, and the sunset is beautiful, is it not? I can't hear you, I've fled this place on wings of light! I-I've lost a page...it sits atop the steeple, hee hee hee! Temptation is a wild snake; its venom, my release. I'll not eat that! It swarms with dragonflies!

Virtuous

Stalwart

My faith shall be my guide! My purity shall burn away all blackness! I cannot be extinguished when fire burns within. Power is purity!

Courageous

Worry not, friends. We are protected from above! The night is black, yes -- but the Fire burns bright. The fire stands with you. Fear not the black. Do not despair. As the black deepens, my power grows...

Focused

My path is illuminated! By the holy Flame, I shall persevere! What grace has given me, let it pass to you, hero. The sacred fire whispers your name. You are most blessed.

Powerful

Holy power courses through me! It is as the Versebook says: purity is power. Our actions have pleased the sacred Flame. This is a holy boon. Use it wisely.

Vigorous

Though caged in steel, my faith burns through. I set my soul aflame. Nothing can extinguish it. As mother said... my suffering has prepared me well. No ill wind can snuff out the sacred Flame.

Critical Hits

Attacking

Light take you! Blacken our world no longer! Begone, foul thing! You shall suffer as I have! Burn in the holy Flame! You are DAMNED!

Recieving

It steals my breath! Fiends from the Pit, you shall not have me! Must it all end in such blackness?!

Encouragement

General

Breathe from this censer and recite the Verses. Now! Verse XXXVI: the Light shines brightest in darkness. I anoint you with oil warmed by the holy Flame. All is well.

Battle Aid

The ashes of this incense will consecrate the wound You very nearly entered the Light. Be more careful. I will petition the Light for your quick recovery.

Pep Talk

The Light touches us even here. I see victory in your eyes, though you are blind to it. Verse LVI: The Light e'er rises.

Hobby

Busy yourself elsewhere. I am praying for your soul. Yes, I shave my legs. What of it? Have you thread? I've torn a seam in my temple garments.

Death’s Door

I am ready, Light!