#that the characters settle in my mind and the set-up is adequate to dive into the meat of the plot

[doctorweebmd]

heeheehee. hoohoohoo.

YES. CHAPTER 3 IS UP. I LOVE YOU EVERYTHING IN HALVES YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS.

[indulge-that-sin]

A Social Experience

Characters: GN!MC, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon

Wordcount: 1700

Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Bonding Activities, Humor

(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)

***

"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.

Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.

You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.

You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.

Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!" 

"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"

"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.

"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.

Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.

"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."

Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.

"Give what an hour?"

"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.

Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.

You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.

Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door. Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.

"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?

"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.

Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume. 

"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.

He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.

"What do you want?" Levi grit out.

"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"

"He's bored," you translated.

"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"

"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested. 

"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.

Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules. 

Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.

"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.

"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression. Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.

A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.

Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.

The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.

"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player. 

"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.

"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.

Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.

"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.

Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.

"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you. 

He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.

"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.

Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"

"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."

"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.

"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"

"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.

"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.

"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one." 

"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"

"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.

"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."

"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"

Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.

"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"

"I do too play games," Asmo protested.

"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."

You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles. 

"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."

"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"

"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."

The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.

"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"

You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.

"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."

But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

*

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”  

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration.  He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

~

Next Chapter

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[misterparadigm]

A Critique of Albert Camus’s “The Myth of Sisyphus”

The following is a brief critical breakdown of Albert Camus's highly influential essay. In it, I explore Camus's implicit meanings as I find them, and question the validity of his conclusions about the nature of suffering and man's capacity for contending with it by will alone.

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

In philosophy, absurdity is defined as the conflict between the tendency to seek meaning in life and the inability to find such meaning with any logical certainty. The question of meaning has been at the heart of many philosophical explorations and treatises. The second half of the 20th century and beyond saw a spread in the acceptance of the notion of life’s meaninglessness, though no definitive and satisfactory cure for the ennui and nihilism that often follows has been laid out.

Perhaps most famous and cherished is Albert Camus’s essay exploring the Myth of Sisyphus and his ultimate declaration therein that, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” In this essay, Camus thinks over the myth in brief and lays out an interpretation of it which centers Sisyphus’s acknowledgment of his predicament, acceptance, and most importantly his personal resolve and will to view his burden as something which gives his life meaning. We must imagine Sisyphus finding contentment in his futile labor—an act of will which scorns the gods and denies their effort to break the spirit of Sisyphus with the assertion that a life of eternally futile labor is something torturous. Camus efforts—a bit belabored, in my opinion—to make a modern hero of the one who belittles the gods and their cruel, arrogant, resentful judgments. In Camus’s view, these gods have earned no respect in their dealings with mortals. For Camus, a humanist who would sooner dive headlong into oblivion than seek out a god whom he despises, it is a noble and purposeful pursuit to deny any such god the pleasure of punishing the creature which he created to despise him to begin with—a creature forced to live out a scenario of absurdity concocted by that very god. Camus refuses to respond with devastation, but resolves to make such existence its own purpose. He asks us to grasp our free will, own it, and wield it against any force which seeks to turn the man against himself.

But is this assessment and subsequent assertion valid? A number of factors are at play here which Camus seems not to acknowledge. First, we have to acknowledge context. Sisyphus is dealing with a particular set of gods, so his situation is unique to that scenario. Camus seems to imply that this situation can be applied to the modern man and his relationship to whichever god he believes in. This isn’t apparent, and if one is to assert that it is, one must first take as a given that life is absurd, or else the resentment toward the god who created it isn’t validated. On the other hand, if life is not absurd and is in fact meaningful and purposeful, one must contend with the notion that the god who created it is of some authority on the matter of how best to embody such meaning and purpose. To Camus’s credit, we are given no empirical evidence or common enough experience to adequately, categorically state the purposefulness of existence. What we are offered, rather, is a quiet firmament and a divine hand so subtle that one can barely propose to experience its activity—rarely with any convincing force, despite fervent conviction, and perhaps even considered malevolent rather than benevolent. The suffering of life, after all, makes it easy to resent our very being. Life is discomfort, pain, confusion, and death in greater measure than pleasure and joy. Pleasure and joy, even, seem starkly restricted as vices of desire in the eyes of “modern” gods, so much that to see the beauty of life is to do so in spite of life itself rather than to acknowledge that beauty’s apparentness as we would life’s suffering. Even so, the challenge of life may not then be to grasp one’s own will and deny God, but rather, as Hamlet mused, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To take accountability for one’s will and wield it, much as Camus suggests, as a weapon—not against God, but rather against the apparent evils of existence, of which we would know nothing were it not for eating from the proverbial Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Often, we get caught up in the idea that God created the circumstances in which we exist, and created us to exist within those circumstances. By this musing along we may justify a resentment toward such a god and claim absurdity and cruelty. It’s quite easy to do so. However, we rarely seem to consider that, according to the myth, we were created in a more desirable scenario. Even so, we were created with free will and given direction on what to do and what not to do in order to avoid less desirable circumstances. Our free will standing, we acted in what would seem to be an inevitable manner. We were tempted to know what God knows about existence, and so we consumed the apple and opened our minds to the knowledge of good and evil. In doing so, we betrayed the trust of God and refused his advice, thus we became fully conscious and, consequently, fully accountable for our actions. With the knowledge of good and evil, a being with free will bears a responsibility to act according to the good rather than the evil. This early awakening left us naive—scarcely prepared to contend with the greater evils of the universe—and we’ve been mired in it ever since, rarely even able to see clearly what constitutes good and what constitutes evil. The complexity of such a task of judgment is said to be the court of God, and we are not to engage in such things, but we are yet left with no one but ourselves to hold each other accountable—and so how can we not judge? There is much that goes into this, but it’s a digression of the topic at hand, which is the validity of Camus’s assessment of the transferable lesson of Sisyphus’s fate.

The second factor is the presumption that Sisyphus could have the stamina to will joy out of his futile labor for eternity. It is difficult to imagine how his psychology might evolve over an endless span of time. Is it even reasonable to imagine that he might settle on a particular view of his predicament? How could it be that his view would last forever? It seems more likely that his mind might unravel after so long a labor at a single task, and that he would dissolve into his routine—that he would devolve into a machine. Such a task, it seems to me, is tailored to disintegrate the spirit of a man so that there is nothing left but the laboring organic robot, dead of his animus and dull of mind. His programming, which once explored myriad tasks and evolved in spirit accordingly, is now relegated to the track of a single interminable function, and so his mechanism devolves into only what is necessary for the eternal task. The animating spirit of a free consciousness is defined by that freedom. It is defined by the mind’s ability to explore and learn and adapt and grow. It fills the space in which it inhabits. If that space shrinks, the mind’s environment for operation shrinks. If that space takes a limited form, so does the mind. Sisyphus’s mind, I’d wager, would eventually mold to the well-worn form of his task and atrophy at all other ports of knowledge and behavior. The spirit dies without freedom. It dissolves into oblivion, a gaseous ghost seeping out in small whispers over time, until nothing remains but the solitary circuit. This is, after all, the argument so often levied against the dreadful monotony of a labor economy. One pictures the old cog-in-the-machine imagery—the grey man marching alongside his grey coworkers, seemingly oblivious to his living death. It seems to me that Camus puts an unreasonable and inexecutable responsibility on the creature of Sisyphus: to be the sole perpetuator of his own universe of knowledge, both known and unknown, so that he may propagate the only environment in which he might stave off his spiritual dissipation. This was the environment of free consciousness, which has been robbed of him. This is the plight of the prisoner; the longer a prisoner remains imprisoned, the less likely they are to thrive under freer circumstances. Their mind has adapted to a particular system, environment, and routine. And so it seems naive of Camus to imagine Sisyphus happy.

Camus focuses on the time in which Sisyphus is “going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end.” This is the time in which Sisyphus is left truly alone with his thoughts, which can only ever turn to his task, that task being the only thing left of his life and the thing which will occupy his eternity. It is here that the measure of his character—his will and resolve—is on perfect display. “That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate.” Camus suggests that, “if this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?” The tragedy is that Sisyphus has no opportunity for delusion. He cannot pretend that there is hope of breaking this cycle. He knows that this fate is eternal, and that for every moment to follow, across all space and time, he will only ever be among the moments confined to this task—isolated in his rut. His only hope, I would say, is that over time he might lose this consciousness. In a situation like this, eternal life is an intolerable cruelty, though Camus would claim he has the will to defy the cruelty by reframing it. This Camusian grace seems an illusion to me right on the face of it, and his solution boils down to ignoring the inexorable fact of the situation: there is nothing but the task, and no perfectly repeated task can be infinitely engaging or contenting to the actively conscious mind. The implied grace finds its source in acceptance of the fate, and through acceptance one can neutralize the misery—or so Camus suggests. But again, it does little to truly contend with the eternal element. Camus’s assertion that it is possible to willfully accept such a fate and maintain that flat acceptance for not just an inconceivably long time, but for the most inconceivable length of time, seems itself absurd. Perhaps it is even the very definition of absurd. Camus asks that an actively conscious being spend his infinite life mitigating his misery by perpetually accepting it as the mere fact and state of his existence. He is asking a man who has experienced and loved life (multiple times) so much that he incapacitated Death to simply step back and view his perfectly measured misery as a neutral state of being, and to do this forever, infinitely, perpetually. How absurd is such a demand? He is asking that Sisyphus seek contentment where there is no logical contentment to be sought.

If absurdity is seeking meaning where there appears to be none, then certainly seeking contentment where there appears to be none is itself absurd. The assertion, then, is that we can somehow manifest our own contentment through will, which is, in a way, no different than trying to manifest meaning through will. It’s the act of mitigating circumstances through the illusory impetus of pure will. One may be able to bear the illusion for a measured time, but over the course of an eternity the will gives way to circumstance because the circumstance, in the case, is the immutable factor. A free consciousness, however, is defined by its dynamic existence. But if that existence no longer inhabits a dynamic environment, whatever meaning or purpose it may have had is, as a matter of logic, eradicated by the static and immutable nature of the circumstance.

It is merely a matter of logic, which the free consciousness will have determined in short order, and so the emotions cycle in whatever manner they may until the consciousness is dulled by its monotonous task. Sisyphus’s fate, I assert, is the dissipation of his free consciousness over time, until this man who loved his living freedom so much has his mind reduced to a dim, singular function. His punishment is the indignity of the gradual decline in free will until there is no being left, and he is but a moving sculpture signifying the fate of one who refuses Death. His punishment is the denial of rebirth, for he has refused the necessary mechanism which gives rise to it.

[astroshadowdeviant]

Shadow Hunters - Rough Draft Excerpts

So I'm starting over with writing the rough draft of my Shadow Hunters project the name of which I am thinking of changing to Hunters of Shadows for branding sake. These are some short starts- I am basically scene/idea dump writing as I flesh out plot and characters- that I have posted over on my blogspot. I'll likely be writing out a first draft for the entire series and then going in and breaking things up where needed to make each book. Not all scenes presented here may end up in the final story. Of course I will be going through in later drafts to fix stuff like the tenses and POV which I know are currently all over the place. Also it should be noted that except for Bethesda (and maybe Lucy)any names you see are just place holders for the final character names.

Bethesda stared at the purple stick in her hand with its strange yellow-orange topper. Bringing it closer to the light she squinted at the scraggly black swirls that arched across the round surface at odd angles. If Bethesda had to call it anything she would describe it as a wand or a scepter for some person of regalness. The stem wasn't particularly ornate but she couldn't think of anything else it could be if not a wand. And if it did happen to be a wand then her next question was whether or not it actually worked. Heaving a heavy sigh Bethesda stuffed the fancy stick in her backpack and got up to track down the rest of their motley crew. She hoped no one had fallen in a pit or gotten their head bit off by some unholy night crawler while she wasn't looking.

Thankfully it didn't take long to find where at least a few had wandered off to. Bethesda raised an eyebrow when she entered the cavern. “What exactly are you guys doing?” Three pairs of eyes look up at the question. Two sets look slightly guilty and the third...

-

We were lost and wandering through the woods alone. I sniffed; it was the smell of smoke. Someone had to be near. I stiffened. Halo, who was walking behind me stopped right in her tracks. “What is it?” she asked. Not answering her I moved to crouch down into the bushes and started moving in the direction of the smell of the smoke. Even having woken up seemingly in the middle of nowhere and lost I remembered enough from the last time I was here that there shouldn’t be anyone else here whatsoever. I could only think of one group that it could possibly be. And I didn’t like it. “Kaolin?” I held up a finger to signal Halo we needed to be quiet. We had come to a rather thick tangle in the brush. Still crouching, I carefully crawled through a small opening. Halo followed me closely. The opening led to a small nook in between a couple of trees on the edge of a large clearing. The small nook coupled with the thick surrounding brush and dim lighting of the forest offered adequate concealment.

Behind me I heard a muffled gasp from my friend when she looked over me to see through the nook. What we saw confirmed my suspicions from earlier. Huge hulking bipedal beasts were scattered around the clearing.

-

John stares at the blank word document in front of him. The blinking cursor is mocking him he swears. It is laughing at him. It thinks it’s so funny poking fun at him just because he can’t start a single sentence. And now it’s giving him a smug look like I bet I could write this essay better than you all by myself and-

John stops himself and rubs his eyes tiredly. It’s 3:34 in the morning and he has been sitting here for hours. Getting. Nothing. Done. And now he has morning classes in four hours, one of those has a test he still needs to study for and-

He really just needs to go to bed.

Sighing, John sits back in his chair tilting his head to stare morosely at the ceiling. A tiny black spider crawls across the stark white plaster. John tracks its progress idly as he lets his mind start to wander. He really wishes he had taken his sister’s advice against scheduling most of his classes for the morning. At the time, he had figured that he might as well just get the bulk of it done early so that he could spend the rest of the day working and studying. He did not realize how burnt out it was going to make him feel. Not until after he had been doing it for a few weeks. The spider stopped its trek before turning and moving to its left towards the wall with the window.

-

Fighting. Fighting, crying, running away from the sounds of violence. Panic and urgency at the forefront of your mind. I stumble and scrape my knees, my leg, my arms and I’m up again and fighting through the mud and the leaves. It hurts. Oh, it hurts so much- the pain, the sting of the brambles as they nick and dig into my skin. I think my ankle might be twisted. Keep running you can’t stop you can’t- If you stop then it’s the end. No. It can’t be the end you have to keep going. Your breathing is heavy and your throat feels raspy as you pant from exertion. Thud. They’re closer. Thud. Thud. Thud. They’re closer and closer and they’re almost on top of you.

Breathe.

You suck in the air, find a burst of speed you didn’t think you had. You spot the cave up ahead to the side on your left. You don’t think you just run over roots and rocks and dive in. You hunker down and press your back against the wall as you try to catch your breath

It’s a small opening of a cave. Maybe they won’t notice it.

There’s an explosion in the distance- shouting. Footsteps thunder past.

You take this chance to stand back up and run further into the cave. No time to think about where it leads as long it’s away, far far away. You can barely see and your lungs heave from the continued exertion, but you have to keep going you just can’t stop-

Your foot slips.

There’s nothing beneath you.

Darkness.

-

Stop thinking you’re overthinking this it’s so simple really the solution why didn’t you think about it before? So stupid. Estupido. Just pick the rock up. Throw it. Throw it hard like it’s going to burn you if you don’t. Throw it straight into their ugly laughing face. They deserve it. You feel light headed but not the bad kind .This is the kind where it feels like you’re free and you’re looking down on all the tiny insects in the world. It’s addictive and you feel dangerously powerful. You lift your arm and pull back to throw.

“Ella, what are you doing?”

Ella blinks snapping out of it. Startled she looks at the rock in her hand and arm positioned to launch it. I don’t remember picking it up.

-

You pull the chair up and and climb on top of it. You hope no one passing by looks into the room to see you up on the window sill and standing on top of a chair.

-

Raise the broadsword above your head and bring it down swiftly. One quick stroke and they’re done for.

-

Take my hand and watch my life seep slowly out of my eyes like water going down the drain of the kitchen sink. Water is there in my blue eyes and then it’s gone down, down into the dark abyss. What was once a wellspring is now a waterfall running dry.

-

Pulling dirty tricks like that- It’s so… frustrating. I hate it. Am I really any better though? With that stunt I pulled at the museum?

-

Settling down beside the fire I draw my knees up under my chin. All is quiet in the night except for the distant chirping of the crickets. The fire is a delightful break from the harsh cold of the tundras.

-

Cold. Cold. Cold, cold, cold why is it so cold? Teeth chattering temperatures bite at my skin threatening to turn it blue. Water. Hah!

Well-

I guess ice is a form of water. It sucks though

-

“Oh, yes and we’re all just dying to meet you.”

“Well, obviously.”

“Does she understand sarcasm?”

-

You’re at your wits end. You can’t go on like this any longer you just- can’t. You’re exhausted and dirty, honestly you feel like you’ve just been run over by a herd of elephants and then dragged through their dung. And you smell like it too. Lying there in the dark you stare at the ceiling of the sewers you’ve taken shelter in. You’re too tired to move, yet also too tired to fall asleep if that makes any bit of sense. You don’t really think it does, but then when has what you think ever actually mattered in any of this. You’re just sick of it all. You want to go home.

-

1: Burgers are nasty 2: Are… are you okay? 1: There is nothing wrong with not liking burg- 3: No this is sacrilege there is no such thing as not liking burgers how could you even say that 4: That’s not normal bro 1: There is nothing wrong with not liking burgers! 4: *Shaking their head* That’s not normal 3: *Squinting at her* Are you sure you’re a teenager? 1: Yes! I just don’t like burgers 2: Okay, Stacy’s questionable food preferences aside- 1: *Throws her hands up*

-

“Is that a monopoly game?”

He grinned. “Yep!”

Rachel looks at him like he just suggested we go dumpster diving again “……we are not playing monopoly” she deadpans.

“Oh come on”. He plops the box in the center of the floor. “Not like it’d kill you to play one game.” Still grinning.

Lucy cheerily hops up from her spot by the window. “I’m game!” she declares.

-

And now everyone’s looking at him like he just lost the last of his loose screws.

-

I’m at my last straw now. The noise. It just keeps going over and over and over and it won’t stop. There it goes again. I resist the urge to grind my teeth.

[ramon-balaguer]

Discipleship

 I remember the day I brought home our first-born child from the hospital. While it felt completely natural to hold our son in my arms, I was a little overwhelmed that the doctors and nurses trusted my wife and I to know how to care for a tiny baby. After all, parenting is pretty much learned through OJT “on the job” training. No matter how many books you read, blogs you follow, or advice you get, when a new baby arrives, you just have to dive in, even when you know you’re in over your head.

Imagine how the baby feels! He or she has been rudely uprooted from a cozy environment where their every need was met instantly, sounds were muted, and they were gently rocked to sleep by their mother’s movements and the reassuring sound of her heartbeat. They have been thrust into the bright lights of a delivery room filled with strange noises, sharp smells and what probably feels like the North Pole after the warmth of the womb. Prodded and poked, their lungs fill with air for the first time, and they let out a loud cry to express their discomfort. A newborn infant is instantly called on to adjust to a completely new way of life, and it is the parents’ obligation and responsibility to help them navigate it successfully.

The analogy of a newborn baby is a perfect illustration for what happens when a person comes to know Christ and experiences Salvation. They are Born Again, given a “new life” and they must be nurtured and cared for by mature Believers (spiritual parents). They must be taught a new way of Being and doing; to think and act, and new ways of responding to their thoughts, feelings, and desires. Ultimately, the Holy Spirit takes up residence in a new Believer and leads them into truth, but having a mentor or teacher to walk alongside us in our spiritual journey is vital to a growing Faith that will persevere and mature.

We, well, the Bible calls that Discipleship.

 What, Exactly, Does a New Believer Need to Know?

Here are nine basic topics that will help establish and equip a new Believer in the Faith. Each topic could be expanded on in great detail, but I’ll simply introduce the basic concepts of Christian Faith in each area of focus. If you are a new Believer, studying what God’s Word says about each point listed below will give you a good foundation to start your walk with Christ. If you are a mature Believer, a refresher course is always helpful to strengthen your Faith; this list is also a good guide for discipling a younger Christ-follower.

 1. Assurance of Salvation by Not continuing to Sin

1 John 5:11-13 – “And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He who has the Son has the life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have the life. These things I have written to you who Believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have Eternal Life.”

Many Christians spend years wrestling with the assurance of their Salvation. This is an issue that must be settled first and foremost with those who would be discipled as a Believer. When a baby is born, there is no question that he has arrived. Just as physical birth is a clear event that happens at a moment in time, so, too, Salvation happens when a person is Born Again by the Spirit of God. 

Assurance of Salvation comes from persevering in Faith during the Sanctification process to Glorification as clear presentation and understanding of what Salvation really is. As human beings, we respond to God through our intellect, our emotions, and our will. When we are presented with the Gospel, the Spirit of God enlightens our mind to understand the facts of Jesus’ birth, death, resurrection, ascension and promise of His return and our own lost and sinful state before God. Depending on our personalities, we may respond with our emotions, but ultimately it is the surrender of the will to the Lordship of Christ and placing our Faith in Him for the forgiveness of our Sins (Past, Present and Future) that results in Salvation by living a Repentant Lifestyle. The assurance of Salvation comes when we hear the Gospel, respond by Faith, and take God at His Word. But the story or your journey doesn’t end there as some false teachers and teachings will tell you. You must remain in Him and Sin Not, less you lose Not just a crown, but all that you were gifted with Salvation by rejecting Him and His Word and continuing to Sin.

Romans 6:1-2 – “What shall we say then? Shall we continue in Sin that grace may abound? 2 Certainly not! How shall we who died to sin live any longer in it?”

 2. The Character of God

John 4:24 – “God is spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”

God is not like us. New Believers must grasp this truth and begin to discover through Scripture the immutable attributes and character of God, so that they can properly worship Him for who He truly is. The study of God’s character undergirds all other topics in this list.

For instance, if we do not know that God is perfectly Holy, we will fail to understand the impact of continuing in Sin. If we do not Believe that He is Sovereign and All-Powerful, we will spend our lives in fear and worry. We will never exhaust the study of God. Beginning our Christian lives with a pursuit of discovering who He has revealed Himself to be in Scripture is key to our growth. To Change us and the world, not for the world to change us and His Word.

 3. The Bible

2 Timothy 3:16-17 – “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.”

A firm belief in the authority of God’s Word and an increasing knowledge of its contents is imperative for a new Believer. A desire for and an ability to understand the Bible is one key evidence that a person truly has been saved. The Bible is our source of wisdom for life and is far more than just a book of rules or instructions. It is the written revelation of God Himself.

The Bible is comprised of 66 books, written by 40 authors under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit over a period of 1,500 years, and preserved for nearly 2,000 years. A new Believer must learn to read it, study it, meditate on it, memorize it, and apply it to every aspect of life.

 4. Prayer

Philippians 4:6-7 – “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Salvation is the beginning of a relationship between men and God; relationship implies communication. God speaks to us through the Bible; we speak to God in prayer. New Believers are often intimidated to pray and must be encouraged and taught to approach God often, in humility and confidence.

When Jesus died on the cross, the temple veil was torn in two from top to bottom, indicating that the way into God’s presence was now open to those who come through Christ. Prayer is both a privilege and a responsibility for Believers and essential for spiritual growth. We must teach new Believers to pray.

 5. The Spirit-Filled Life

Ephesians 1:13-14 – “In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your Salvation – having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God’s own possession, to the praise of His glory.”

Learning to walk in the Spirit is perhaps the most challenging of all the spiritual disciplines in this list. When a person is Born Again, their spirit is brought to life, yet they still live in the unredeemed flesh of a physical body. The indwelling Spirit of God gives us power over sinful choices, yet we are still tempted. And unfortunately, far too many Christians chose wrongly or worldly to conform and compromise God’s Word and themselves to the world. We are given the mind of Christ but must learn to set aside our own fallible intellect and decision-making capabilities in deference to His thoughts and wisdom from God’s Word.

A new Believer must learn that the power to walk in Faith and obedience comes not from their own efforts, but from allowing Christ to live out His life in us through the Holy Spirit-filled life. Far too many “Christians” are filled with other spirits (physical or spiritual) wavering from God’s Word into sinful lifestyles they justify in their own minds, thinking they’ll never lose their Salvation; But Nothing can be further from the Truth.  The choice is yours to remain in Him or Not. To keep the new Born Again baby or abort it, to keep His Word and Him or reject it, and to keep the Gift of Salvation or lose it forever.

 6. Fellowship

Hebrews 10:23-25 – “Let us hold fast the confession of our Hope without wavering, for He who promised is Faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near.”

When a person is born again, they are born into the family of God, and the body of Christ. The Bible talks much about God’s plan, that our personal spiritual growth is intimately connected with the growth of other Believers. Together, the body of Christ becomes a holy temple, a dwelling of God in the Spirit (Ephesians 2:21-22), and each part of the body is dependent on the other parts to become all that God intends us to be.

We would never think to leave an infant alone for very long; in the same way, new Believers must learn to spend time with, love, and serve other Believers for the spiritual health of all the body.

 7. Witnessing

1 Peter 3:15 – “But sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence.”

Salvation begins a process of spiritual transformation called Sanctification. This transformation should be noticeable to others and provides a platform for sharing the gospel. New Believers often feel ill-equipped or inadequate to explain the gospel, as they are just learning what it means in their own lives. They need mature Believers to teach them how to share what has happened to them and grow confident in explaining the gospel to their lost family and friends.

True disciples make other disciples; we must equip one another to do this well. As iron sharpens iron.

 8. Temptation

1 Corinthians 10:13 – “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is Faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.”

A new Believer may think that he will never struggle with Sin after Salvation. Scripture and our own experiences tell us this is not true, and we must help young Believers learn to defeat temptation by living a repentant lifestyle of bringing Sin before God for forgiveness by the power of the Holy Spirit living in them and the supernatural impact of God’s Word. God always provides a way out of temptation; but the choice is yours to persevere in the Faith or give into to your worldly and fleshly desires in Sin. Our job is to teach new Believers the tools and resources they will need so they won’t lose their Salvation and remain in Him and His Word.

 9. Obedience

John 14:21 – “He who has My commandments and keeps them is the one who loves Me and he who loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him and will disclose Myself to him.”

A desire to obey God’s commands gives clear evidence that a person has been regenerated. Sensitivity to sin and a hunger to please God are given to us by the Holy Spirit, but as new Believers we must “un-learn” old habits and ways of doing things in order to live out the principles of our new lives found in Scripture. Obedience is the key to experiencing the joy and peace that God promises His children.

 Are you a new Believer? Make a commitment to grow in your understanding and practical application of each of these areas, and you will put roots down deep that will sustain your Christian Faith in the trials of life. 

 Are you a mature Believer? Has God brought someone in your life that needs to be discipled as a follower of Jesus Christ and His Gospel? Make a commitment to intentionally and prayerfully come alongside them and help them grow. Be a disciple who makes disciples so they won’t reject or lose the precious Salvation they once accepted in Jesus Christ. :) #REBTD

[puchittothelimit]

Ymir sacrificing himself to save Sol? (for the fanfic requests!)

Author’s Notes

Fandom:SMITE

Fan-fiction:The Cost Of Freedom

Summary:  Sol isknown by all as a free spirit so when she finds herself trapped, bound with hermagic restricted, she’s not the only one curious about her whereabouts. And woebetide anyone if she was ever released, especially the hunter who put her therein the first place.

Characters:Hou Yi, Sol and Ymir

Warnings:Character Death

This is my 10th SMITE Fan-Fiction! Woohoo! Not the mostpleasant of stories but oh well! Happy reading!

Cold. How, Sol thought. Never in her life had she felt achill like this. She was a star after all. Sol instinctively tried to curl upinto the foetal position to keep herself warm but was soon stopped. She heavedwith all of her might and when she finally relented, her body slammed againstsomething hard and cold, and she heard a jingle.

Her eyes sprung open, and already she felt a little warmer,but only because her anxiety was beginning to set in now that she wasconscious. She tried to make out her surroundings but the room was only dimlylit, a curious thing considering her power. She looked around, and managed to spotwhat was restraining her: shackles, laced with a supressing agent. She couldboth see and feel its dampening magic. She tried to flare up but could onlyproduce a little heat before her body started to ache, as if she’d run amarathon. She fell limp again and heard the chain jingle once more.

So did someone else it seemed.

Sol heard the sharp sound of scraping metal and immediatelysnapped out of her gaze, in time to see the latch on the door in front of hershift and begin to open. She saw her reflection in the tip of an arrow head asit peeked past the door. She could only assume that it was her captor, andwanted them to know that she wouldn’t be restrained for long. Levitatingforward, she tugged against her restraints, flaring up as she did so (andscowling for good measure).

A flash of silver and she was grounded. Panting, she turnedto look at the arrow she caught sight of out of the corner of her eye, nowembedded in the wall a few centimetres from her head. Something else suddenlypopped up in her field of vision and she gasped as she turned to look into theeyes of a mere man. This close, she was baffled at how weakened she was, if ahuman could get this close and not be burned by her. She recoiled, still notwanting to harm him.

A few seconds of surveying the man and she realised who hewas, and it wasn’t a man.

“I’m surprised you’re so lively,” Hou Yi sounded genuinelyimpressed which only added to Sol’s anxiety; Her mind became just as frazzledas her body as she struggled to comprehend why on earth they were both here,“Those are the most powerful restraints I know of. I know I shouldn’t besurprised, given how hard you were to catch.” Sol cared not to remember thatexperience but recalled the terror she felt which fuelled her sudden burst ofenergy, causing Hou Yi to back off immediately. Not that he was concerned abouther escaping, but he wanted to eliminate any chance she had and fulfil hisquest.

Sol tried to curl up once more, contracting in time with HouYi as he drew his bow, aiming right between her eyes. She whimpered quietly,unable to contain her fear. She had felt so compromised in her life. Shethought she was dreaming, it having never crossed her mind that she might dieanytime soon and in such a vicious manner. She tried to speak, but could onlystammer. Not wanting to contend with Hou Yi’s double-barrelled name, she merelyuttered, “Why?” She tried to look him in the eye but the arrow pointing at heroccupied her full attention.

“When stars get sentient, they cause nothing but chaos. Youcome here to Earth and you frolic. You don’t value the life you providefor.  You neglect your duty. Now, I willfulfil mine,” His words stung. Sol’s body began to steam, as well as her eyes.What did he know about her duty, her job she was assigned against her will. HouYi was free to do whatever he pleased, he couldn’t ever know what that feltlike. Maybe he should be the one restrained and bound to a service. Maybe itwould keep him occupied and stop him from murdering stars. In another world.Sol sighed.

She held her breath as the arrow was drawn away from herface. The tension in the strings of the bow grated in her ears as Hou Yi drewthe bow back a little more in preparation to strike. He too held his breath,steadied himself, and fixated his gaze on the spot between Sol’s eyes.

There was finally a silence as everything settled intoplace. But there was a thud, and Hou Yi jumped. So did Sol, who gave a yelp andclosed her eyes. Her whole body tensed until she couldn’t hold it anymore. Shepeeked and saw Hou Yi with his bow in one hand and arrow in another, disarmed.She didn’t dare strike, even while he was distracted; she was still bound andhe could still easily put out her fire, as could very well whatever was makingthat noise.

Another thud came, and the furniture around the room shook.Hou Yi stood firm, placing his arrow upon his bow once more. Between sounds,Sol could hear his deep, shaky breaths, and couldn’t help but smirk. The causeof the sound may be no friend to her either, but at least it made Hou Yiscared.

There was another sound, but it was more like a metallicclang. And again. And again. And the door started to bend inward. With everycontortion, Sol became more and more reassured that whatever was trying to getin, wasn’t here for Hou Yi’s sake.

He dived as the door bolted towards him. Sol braced herself,but it landed at her feet before it hit her.

The entrance still wasn’t adequate, too small for Ymir. Hegrabbed the frames and tore them away, as if tearing paper. He still had toduck, but he could finally enter the room. Rising up to his normal height, heglared at Hou Yi, then turned to Sol. “Hi!” He said, his chipper voice a littlemisplaced.

Sol couldn’t find the breath to greet him too. She wasastonished that he had found her, overwhelmed with the thought that she nowmight make it out of this ordeal without an arrow between her eyes.

Hou Yi quickly rose to his feet, “Be gone, Frost Giant.You’re meddling in things you have no business in,” He tried but there was nohope of him intimidating Ymir in any way. He didn’t even draw his bow, thinkinghis words might be enough, but talk is cheap.

“Ymir’s friends are Ymir’s business, so when you try to killYmir’s friends, Ymir will meddle,” He boomed, leaning towards the archers face.Hou Yi recoiled at his icy breath. He backed away enough so he could draw hisbow back and release it with adequate force but no distance could make it doany kind of damage to Ymir. A sharp clink and the arrow fell to the floor.

He couldn’t hurt Ymir but he could still finish off Sol.

Hou Yi drew again, flipping round to face the star. All of asudden, there was a silver arrow in the middle of her gaze once more but shewas nowhere near as tense as she was before. She knew what was to come to him.

Right on cue, Ymir took a sharp breath in, drawing Hou Yi’sattention. A freezing mist clouded his vision. He lifted his arm to shieldhimself, but the movement was difficult, like running in a dream. He needed toget away. He bent his knees, preparing to leap but found himself grinding to ahalt. He opened his mouth to cry out but his mouth filled with meltwater.

A muffled cough could be heard as the mist dispersed,revealing an awkwardly poised Hou Yi, frozen in ice and not looking too happyabout it.

“Yes!” Sol exclaimed, “Thank you Ymir!”

“No problem,” He replied as he mindlessly picked up Hou Yiand tossed him to one side, which was immensely satisfying for Sol. He gave anod at a job well done but knew very well everything was far from over. Heapproached Sol without hesitation.

She recoiled, “Ymir, be careful, I’m still hot!”

“And Ymir’s still cold, more cold than you are hot,” Hebegan carefully assessing her restraints, though he didn’t put much thought intodeciding that he would simply rip them off the wall. He mindlessly wiped a beadof ‘sweat’ from his forehead, causing a flurry of droplets to splash onto Sol’shead below. To her, there were harmless, but her presence still posed a dangerto him.

“Ymir, please! You’re already melting! Get away!”

“You need to be free. Ymir will get away later,” Ymir founda grip onto the restraints. Pressing his fingers into them, he began to tug.Sol winced at the squeaking his fingers made as they scraped against thesurface of the shackles. She could see the discomfort in his eyes but there wasno negotiating with him, or her own body.

She could feel herself getting warmer with every movement,the dulling agent beginning to wear off as the restraints became more and moredamaged. Rubble began to fall from the wall, as did more droplets. Sol couldonly hope she was freed soon, and she was.

A flare-up of power coursed through every part of her body.One restraint had fallen from her wrist, and the rest would soon follow. Shecouldn’t help but stretch, grimacing as the tension left her body as did therest of her shackles, sliding from her skin as they melted away. When she openedher eyes, a smiling Ymir was of no comfort. She quickly darted under his arm,past Hou Yi, to the opening. “Let’s get out of here, come on!” She gesturedimpatiently with her hand. Ymir hobbled over to her at a frustratingly slowerpace than Sol would’ve liked. To hide her eye roll, she dipped out of theopening, searching for a way out of the larger complex.

“Left!” Ymir called. She looked back and smiled, but it wasshort lived. Hou Yi’s figure looked a lot clearer all of a sudden. He wasbeginning to melt. Ymir saw her face drop. Taking a quick glance over hisshoulder, he figured Hou Yi was in need of a top up. His next breath wasn’tmuch more than a cool breeze, almost muggy. It made Hou Yi’s escape all themore swift.

Sol knew her heat was to blame,but there was no time and no point in dwelling on it. She gave Ymir a veryquick tug on his arm, making sure he was paying attention, “We need to go,now!” She rolled over to face down the corridor before shooting off. Ymir shookoff some more droplets before following behind.

There was a blockage, more just a door really. Impatient,Sol fired herself up and unleashed a ball of fire from her palm. It collidedwith the door and rippled outward, before returning inward and blowing the dooraway, outside into the chill of the mountains. Sol felt refreshed by theoutside air, even more relieved that Ymir would feel right at home and recoverwell in this climate.

She darted into the air, to keep her heat away from thegiant as he exited the building. He looked up into the sky to see the star he’drescued in her proper place. He slammed his club into the ground, that he mayclench both of his fists, grounding himself to give a triumphant roar at theheavens.

“Ha ha!” Sol laughed heartily at his enthusiasm, forever grateful,“Thank you Ymir. I’d hug you but that wouldn’t be much of a thank you!”

“Go and shine for Ymir, that will be thanks enough!” Hewaved at her, wishing her well.

As he lowered his arm, it revealed a smaller figure in redmaterial, damper and darker than Sol remembered.

“Ymir, behind you!” She lowered herself in the sky. Shewanted to help while he had helped her, but didn’t want to come too close, incase she weakened him again.

Ymir turned, swiping up his club. Despite the danger, hecouldn’t help but laugh at the shivering Hou Yi.

Tensing his clattering jaw, Hou Yi cried, “You’ll pay forthat!” He drew his bow, and then fired an arrow into the heavens. And another.And another. They shot past Sol with a whoosh and an intimidating breeze.

“Wow, Ymir have better aim.”

Sol didn’t have time to laugh. Something else shot past her,down towards Ymir. She saw red. She pointed herself downward, trying to catchup with the falling star but she continued to be left behind. She hopelesslytried to pull on the star and slow it down, but her fingers only dragged alongits surface, leaving temporary, meaningless scratches. All there was left to dowas call out, “Ymir, move!” Of course, instead of moving, Ymir instinctivelylooked up, wasting time.

Realising the danger, he began to hobble away from Hou Yi,who cockily looked on.

Realising the inevitability, Sol began to slow down, herstamina dampened by a grief, mourning for someone yet to be deceased but sheknew she couldn’t save. Tears formed but quickly turned to steam that trailedbehind her.

Hou Yi leapt into the air to avoid the impending collision.The star splashed into the ground, erupting into a mess of red and orange.Another fell, and reacted much the same. The next few caused the ground toshake and the left over snow around the forming crater to disappear, revealingscorched earth beneath it.

As the steam dispersed, she lowered herself to the groundand searched desperately for something. Alas, there was no trace of hersaviour, no body to mourn over, nothing. Her throat felt hollow as she wailed,throwing herself to the floor, hoping she might feel that the ground would bedamp, a small sign of his presence. Unfortunately, the only presence she feltwas Hou Yi’s, as his body now loomed over her. As she swallowed her tears, heranger ran hot down her throat. Before Hou Yi could imprison her again and haveYmir’s sacrifice be in vain, she pressed herself into the dirt and propelledherself into the sky, past the clouds, and back into the heavens.

And, for the first time, shefelt the chill of space.

Author’s Notes

I’ve got to say, I amhappy with this now that it’s done but, oh my god, it took me so long to findthe motivation to finish this.

Drop me a message ifyou enjoyed this anon! I’d really appreciate it.

Please give this story a like and reblog if you enjoyed it! It really helps me out! Thanks for reading!