#that they can read our body language without ever using it themselves?

[ali3nboyfriend]

sometimes i think about how when latke got spayed she gently whined the whole night, and i had her come lay down next to me on the floor of the living room and watched breaking bad (her favorite show, because she likes walter's voice) curled up on the same pillow as her with one arm over her. dogs typically just tolerate full cuddling or hugging, they don't usually like being restricted like that, but ever since that night she'll seek out being held to my side if we're laying in the same space.

and i think about that and i think about every dog that's ever been partnered with a human that loved them and i think about all the ways we communicate with each other without sharing a language or even being the same species. latke can't comprehend "i love you" but she can comprehend love, she knew what i was telling her when i told her to lay down and pointed beside myself and stroked her shoulder for four hours straight.

i don't really have a point to this except that there's like, a miraculous sort of beauty in all of that. even in the fact that i can snap my fingers twice and point somewhere and she knows to go where i'm pointing, without ever having needed to be trained for that cue deliberately. the fact that dogs understand us at all, let alone to that extent? we should stop taking that for granted. we should recognize it for the wonderfully beautiful thing it is. i don't even have the proper words to express it.

[whereserpentswalk]

In 1952 aliens invaded the earth. Luckily, they did not invade the parts that humans live on.

Their bodies evolved to withstand massive amounts of pressure, so standing on earth's surface would cause their cells to implode. To them, the land of the earth in uninhabitable ten times over, while the deepest parts of its oceans are a perfect paradise with just the right conditions for them to exist within. They didn't even know that this planet had sapient life because they'd never think to check the upper parts of a planet's ocean, much less its dry land for civilization, and our language is too short range for them to recognize as communication.

When their generational ships first landed humanity didn't know their planet had been 'colonized'. When strange metal objects landed from the sky, we thought they were human weapons tests, with both sides of the cold war thinking their enemies were dropping strange new machines of war into the deepest trenches of the earth.

By the mid 1960s we only had the vaguest idea of them. Deep sea exploration told tales of machines that didn't match human constructions. And some even said that they spotted 'mermaids' or 'sea serpents' swimming in the world's deepest waters. When we eventually saw them for sure in 1976, we barely knew what we were looking at, their head, shoulders, and arms almost matched a human design, but the rest was so strange; their eyes were like reflective glass, and their heads had massive crests coming up from them, below their shoulders were long eel like tails, so long they could rival whales when stretched out, though their arms and heads weren't larger than ours. And their mouths so inhuman, folding up like they were nothing when closed, but turning into a mess of fangs and jaws when open. They didn't even talk like us, making low noises that traveled so far that they naturally spread themselves out, even the sprawl of America's west coast seeming like the walled city of Kowloon to their obsidian eyes.

We were afraid of them at first. The 1980s were filled with fear mongering about them, movies about invasion from below, plans to make them a front of the cold war, or far out theories about psychic powers or ftl drives seeming plausible to the public. But eventually things calmed down. The younger members of Gen X were the first people to learn about aliens in school, growing up with them as a fact of life. By the 1990s you could major in alien studies as part of your college classes. They could never meet us in person (at least not without one side wearing very bulky equipment) but they could communicate with us and share information. We incorporated each other's technology into our civilizations, learning that they were far better at creating vehicles then us, and that we were far better at creating communication then them. We read each other's stories, and histories, even a few would convert to each other's faiths. Our ideas of society are so different that our political ideologies don't ever really match up, and there's little we can trade with each other, but just barely we can share the earth.

Now, most people take them as part of the world. We see them in museums, learn about them in school. If you've ever worn power armor, or rode a meta-rail, or even visited a modern space station, you've used technology based off of theirs. Very occasionally one will go on our internet and try to interact with us (most of those reddit AMAs are fake but you never know). There was a controversy recently about a long-distance relationship a human woman had with an alien. Some even theorize the normalization of nonbinary identities was influenced by contact with them, considering that the aliens normally possess both sets of their reproductive organs (they find the fact that only one partner gets pregnant during our mating process incredibly strange).

However, as we have more interaction with their civilian population, instead of just with official ambassadors, and state sponsored scientists, we have found disturbing revelations about why they came here. They didn't leave their home world by choice, and though it might still be decades off, whatever chased them might be following them.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writer on Writing: Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin:

5 Principal Elements of a story that must work in "one insoluble unitary movement"

The patterns of the language — the sounds of words.

The patterns of syntax and grammar; the way the words and sentences connect themselves together; the ways their connections interconnect to form the larger units (paragraphs, sections, chapters); hence the movement of the work, its tempo, pace, gait, and shape in time.

The patterns of the images: what the words make us or let us see with the mind’s eye or sense imaginatively.

The patterns of the ideas: what the words and the narration of events make us understand, or use our understanding upon.

The patterns of the feelings: what the words and the narration, by using all the above means, make us experience emotionally or spiritually, in areas of our being not directly accessible to or expressible in words.

Balancing the 5 Elements

There is a relationship, a reciprocity between the words and the images, ideas, and emotions evoked by those words:

the stronger that relationship, the stronger the work.

To believe that you can achieve meaning or feeling without coherent, integrated patterning of the sounds, the rhythms, the sentence structures, the images, is like believing you can go for a walk without bones.

The Imagination

Imagery takes place in “the imagination,” which I take to be the meeting place of the thinking mind with the sensing body…

In the imagination we can share a capacity for experience and an understanding of truth far greater than our own.

The great writers share their souls with us — “literally.”

The intellect cannot do the work of the imagination;

the emotions cannot do the work of the imagination; and

neither of them can do anything much in fiction without the imagination.

Where the writer and the reader collaborate to make the work of fiction is perhaps, above all, in the imagination.

In the joint creation of the fictive world.

Making a Story Alive

The writer cannot do it alone.

The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp.

The reader, reading it, makes it alive: a live thing, a story.

It comes down to collaboration, or sharing the gift: the writer tries to get the reader working with the text in the effort to keep the whole story all going along in one piece in the right direction (which is my general notion of a good piece of fiction). In this effort, writers need all the help they can get. Even under the most skilled control, the words will never fully embody the vision.

Even with the most sympathetic reader, the truth will falter and grow partial. Writers have to get used to launching something beautiful and watching it crash and burn. They also have to learn when to let go control, when the work takes off on its own and flies, farther than they ever planned or imagined, to places they didn’t know they knew.

All makers must leave room for the acts of the spirit.

But they have to work hard and carefully, and wait patiently, to deserve them.

Source

[candyredmusings]

The Southern Book Club's Guide To Slaying Vampires Sentence Starters

Starters based on the book by Grady Hendrix. Change pronouns/names as needed.

CW: NSFT, Religion, Gender Stereotypes, Women Centric, Angst

"Sometimes she craved a little danger. And that was why she had book club.”

“He thinks we’re what we look like on the outside: nice Southern ladies. Let me tell you something…there’s nothing nice about Southern ladies.”

"Let me tell you something…there’s nothing nice about Southern ladies.”

“Why do you pretend what we do is nothing?” 

“Every day, all the chaos and messiness of life happens and every day we clean it all up. Without us, they would just wallow in filth and disorder and nothing of any consequence would ever get done."

"Who taught you to sneer at that? I’ll tell you who. Someone who took their mother for granted.”

“A reader lives many lives. The person who doesn’t read lives but one. But if you’re happy just doing what you’re told and reading what other people think you should read, then don’t let me stop you."

"I just find it sad.”

“We’re a book club. What are we supposed to do? Read him to death? Use strong language?”

"I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom."

“You’d rather get stabbed forty-one times than ruin the curb appeal of your home?”

“One thing I learned from all these books: it pays to be paranoid.”

“I've had three children and some man who's never felt his baby crown is stronger than me? Is tougher than me?”

“Being a teenager isn't a number, it's the age when you stop liking them.”

“I am not sure what the appropriate gesture is to make toward the family of the woman who bit off your ear, but if you felt absolutely compelled, I certainly wouldn’t take food.”

“What had been destroyed made what remained that much more precious. That much more solid. That much more important.”

“The problem with book club these days is too many men. They don’t know how to pick a book to save their lives and they love to listen to themselves talk."

“A no-good man will tell you he's going to change. He'll tell you whatever you want to hear, but you're the fool if you don't believe what you see.”

“You ladies read a strange assortment of books."

"We're a strange assortment of broads." 

“Why is it always 'bitches'? As if men believed that word had some kind of magic power.”

“I think that it shows a remarkable lack of planning on [NAME]'s part. If you’re going to murder your best friend with an axe, you should make sure you know what you’re doing.”

"If you’re going to murder your best friend with an axe, you should make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts it would be Christmas every day,”

“The police think all kind of things. Doesn’t necessarily make them true.”

"“My husband has no more consideration for me than a dog."

 "For years I’ve pretended I don’t know where he goes, or who those girls are on the phone, but every time he comes home, I lie there in bed beside my husband, who doesn’t touch me, who doesn’t talk to me, who doesn’t love me, and I pretend I can’t smell some twenty-year-old’s body on him”

"This is where we live, it's where our children live, it's our home. Don't you want to do absolutely everything you can to keep it safe?”

“You said you wanted to live where people watched out for each other, but what’s the good of watching if we’re not going to act?”

“Isn't that how every serial killer gets away with it for so long?"

“It made no sense, but sometimes you did a thing because that was just what you did, not because it was sensible.”

“Nightwalking men always have a hunger on them. They never stop taking and they don't know about enough."

“These false prophets come wandering into town, take hold of your mind, and lead you down a primrose path... People fall for honeyed words.”

“What good is free love if nobody showers?” 

“When I was a kid I didn't take my mom seriously."

"They took the hits so we could skate by obliviously, because that's the deal; as a parent, you endure pain so your children don't have to.”

“Great. Another man with his opinions.”

“We’re not a lynch mob, we’re a book club.”

"Don’t know how I’m going to survive for three weeks."

"[NAME] says we’re safe with his guns, but trust me, I’ve been dove hunting with that man. He can barely hit the sky.”

“Vacuum your curtains. No one ever does it enough. I promise it'll make you feel better.”

“Let's see if we can find from hydrogen peroxide for these bloodstains in the carpet."

“The only people who don’t apologize are psychopaths.”

“At the end of the day, some rich white people lost their money. Some poor black people lost their homes. That's just how it goes.”

“One thing I learned about men: they liked to talk.”

"Five children live in this house and it's eight years before the oldest one moves out. If I don't get some adult conversation tonight I'm going to blow my brains out."

"If I don't get some adult conversation tonight I'm going to blow my brains out."

“We’ve been cleaning up after men our entire lives. This is no different.”

“Some people use literature to understand their lives."

“We want the people we know to be who we think they are, and to stay how we know them.”

“Only boring people get bored.”

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to face it head-on."

“Once you've washed a man's underwear you realize the sad truth about hidden depths.”

"The true horror is not in the monsters themselves, but in the darkness they awaken within us."

“Don’t worry, [NAME], when we go off, we’ll be fully cocked.”

“[NAME], would you cheat on [NAME] with a stranger who showed up on your doorstep, with no people, and told you he was a vegetarian? You'd want to at least check his driver's license first, wouldn't you?”

“Like most elementary schoolteachers, [NAME] had drunk from the fountain of eternal late middle age."

“Stay here with me in reality. Things are so much better now than they were. Everyone's happy. We're all okay.”

“I need to be morbid."

“You wish that a gang of unwashed hippies would break into your house and murder your family and write death to pigs in human blood on your walls because you don’t want to pack bag lunches anymore?”

“No one likes their children. We love them to death, but we don’t like them.”

"In the darkest of times, it is the light of love that guides us through the shadows."

“If baseball’s a sin, I’m going to Hell."

“You’re on your side. Don’t ever fool yourself about that.”

“You’re both housewives. What else do you do all day?”

"I wish you would go home. I don’t want you here."

“There are more important things than cleaning."

“Another person knows what you taste like now."

"I will never forgive you for this. Never. Never. Never.”

“Stealing the mail is a federal crime.”

“If it had fangs, sharp teeth, or bloody lips on the cover, [NAME] bought it."

"The strength of a woman lies not in her beauty, but in her determination and resilience."

“He left no one behind, no children, no shared memories, no history, no one told stories about him. All he left to mark his passing was pain, and that would fade over time.”

“This is also a book about vampires. They’re that iconic American archetype of the rambling man, wearing denim, wandering from town to town with no past and no ties."

"The bonds of family can be both our greatest strength and our greatest weakness."

“You're going to book club me to death? Not invite me to your next meeting?”

“The problem with that is you would need extremely large pies to fit two children, even minced.”

“Was that what he’d been doing to [NAME]? Did he think he was eating blood?"

“They stabbed [NAME] forty-one times. What do you think that feels like? I mean, I think you feel every single one of them, don’t you?”

“Consider yourself invited."

“She tooted at the table, too, and tried to blame that on my four-year-old.”

"Evil thrives in ignorance. Knowledge is the weapon we must wield against it."

“If she says [NAME] is among the wicked, then it is our Christian duty to smite him."

“I’m against Halloween in all its forms because of the Satanism."

"The thing is you just keep living and it hurts all the time.”

"The South is a place of secrets and silence. We keep our darkest parts hidden away, buried beneath layers of hospitality and charm."

"A woman's love is fierce and unyielding, a force to be reckoned with."

"The true power of friendship lies in the ability to lift one another up, to offer solace and support when the darkness threatens to consume us."

"Darkness lurks in the most unexpected corners."

"In a world that often seeks to silence the voices of women, we must speak louder and fight harder for our truths to be heard."

"Sometimes the biggest monsters hide within the most charming faces."

"Fear can drive us to unimaginable actions, but it is in facing our fears that we find our true strength."

"Love and compassion can soften even the hardest hearts, breaking the chains of hatred and prejudice."

"The true monsters are not always the ones with fangs and claws, but the ones who lurk in plain sight, hiding behind a mask of normalcy."

"The power of a book lies not just in its words, but in the way it inspires us to take action."

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 10 Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

Since that day, every day I asked Deon about my appearance.

But he never once answered whether I was beautiful, ugly, suitable, bad or something like that. He wasn't honest with me… it seems he has nothing to say to me at all.

Hiks...

But beside that, I definitely preferred the Human world over the Devil world. I really enjoyed our daily walks before Deon and I, as his partner, took part in the hunting competition organized by the emperor..

In the human world, we experience days filled with sunlight, while in the Devil world, it's always night, with only the moon shining. It quite dull there to me to having a nightmare always in the dark and only be illuminated by a blood red moon.

The human world here is expected to be more ancient than Earth. Their style is certainly reminiscent of the 15th century. However, they also offer a variety of unique dishes that I've never encountered before. I wasn't sure if these foods have existed on Earth as well.

Although to be honest, human food is no longer suitable for my taste as a Demon race.

Even though I'm disguised, the body I inhabit is still a devil. That's the reality.

Even if I am a human now, i don't think it will be my cup of the tea.

I was really excited to see all the unique food, but I didn't want to buy any for myself. I let Deon treat himself instead. He offered me some, but I had to politely decline.

Deon confessed to me that he has a strong preference for food that is not only tasty but also one-of-a-kind and hard to find. As always, noble tastes were quite distinct from the normal civilian like me...

By the way, Deon also took me to his troop in the human world too. Although he was hesitant to do it, I convince him the otherwise.

They were called Lofty troops, I think.

The soldiers who see themselves as the most honorable, despite lacking noble lineage, strive fiercely in battle to prove themselves as some of the finest, albeit ruthless, warriors in the kingdom.

Hey everyone! I want you to meet my fiancée, Adele. I'm introducing her to you guys only because she requested it.

"No Way!!!"

"The captain suddenly has a fiancée, despite never having been involved in any scandals before!"

"Damn you Captain, I lost the bet because the sudden fiancée!!!"

"What, a woman like you actually became the Marquis's fiancée!"

"How do you seduce Captain to love you, tell me!!!"

"Please be quiet, everyone! Mind your language! Captain's still here with us."

"All of you, run then rounds for being disrespectful to Master's fiancée."

It's the only woman here who's raising her voice. Is she the one responsible for keeping everyone in line? And all the soldiers here also doing what she said.

"I apologize, my lady. You must witness the disrespectful behavior of our soldier. I, Lianne Reiner, extend my sincerest apologies to you."

"No problem at all Ms. Lianne, Deon already warn me before. If i really cared about appropriate behavior, i wouldn't came here."

"You already seeing those crazy dogs, are you satisfied?" Ask Deon. He still seems upset because of the soldier's earlier comment, they’re so bold to make a bet about his relationship and view him with such innocence guy who can be seduced by everyone.

I understand now.

It’s clear that the Lofty troop being happy if Deon found a partner to share and became his support.

They even shared some amusing stories about his past mishaps, which made him seem quite endearing. Watching Deon react playfully to their teasing was fun, but he could only blush and wish they would stop in the end!

Despite their rudeness towards me and Deon, they still place a high value on their master's reputation. This is the kind of ally Deon has in the human realm.

"Deon?"

"What?"

"They are the good people you know?"

"They are crazy..."

But he couldn't hide his reddened ear that secretly invoice his expression.

The day of the competition arrived which was predictable to be the day where I had to intervene in fate. So I already made the plan for that.

"Are you sure you want to wear that clothes, Adele?" Deon ask me when he see my clothes.

Yes, I wore very controversial clothes for this era, a blue shirt and trousers. I asked the maid to make me a pair of trousers for me.

Even though these are trousers, the maid who made them still designed them well, there are beautiful lace and decorations that are not objectionable.

I chose the shirt itself in black. Because white has become Deon's signature color.

"I didn't come to sit back and drink tea like a human, Deon."

"But..."

"There are things I have to do there."

"Can't I know?"

"It's not that you can't know, but you will find out later."

"..."

"

Trust me, Deon. I didn't come to do evil. "

...

“Okay. I believe you.”

"Thank you, Deon. Your clothes suits you. The emperor have a good eyes! But i will too..." I smiled happily at Deon. And Leon could only smile resignedly at me. He knows that i will start my project to design him as the aesthetic model.

We hugged before Remember coughing.

"The carriage is ready, Young Master, madam."

And off we went...

"Emperor, this is my fiancee, Adelle."

Why suddenly I was introduced to the Emperor.

"It's an honor to watch Deon Hart finally have someone to love." He looks at me, his eyes appear quite unusual—wild yet weary, accentuated by dark circles beneath them.

I-I'm afraid of him....

"Nice to meet you, Emperor. I'm Adelle"

“He is not a noble, please forgive his ethical lapse.”

"By our esteemed Hero, what can I not tolerate for you."

Then they stepped away to have a private conversation. Left on my own, I quietly employed my skills to steer clear of the nobles who were eager to learn more about me.

I noticed the nobles searching around anxiously, clearly on the lookout for me.

But unfortunately my priority right now is not to talk to them.

'Where is Cruel Hart?'

Then I used my skills to look for it. He was walking in the forest.

Why is he in the forest?

Does he want to do something?

I have to follow him.

.

.

.

I ran in the middle of the forest but I still couldn't find him.

Where did Cruel Hart go?

Looks like I got lost while looking for Cruel Hart...

Damn I've wasted a lot of time for a person I've never even met before.

On the screen, Cruel Hart finally meets Deon, who for some reason is also in the same place.

Like a destinated fate…

Impossible. Is it possible that the Cruel Hart tragedy will happen before Deon's eyes? ..

In that case, I have to quickly find them...

"You think I can't recognize you just because you wear a robe like that." Deon said with blood in his mouth.

Saying that to Cruel who was trying to cover his face with a cloak.

"What are you planning, Cruel Hardt. What is your reason for being here."

But in the end Cruel Hart gave up trying to hide his face.

He pulled Deon's hand tightly

Hey, aren't you listening to what I'm saying, I have nothing more to say to you. "

Deon, who was pulled, was helplessly pulled after Cruel. After trying to let go of the hand that was pulling him but it wouldn't let go. Deon gave up trying to get off from him.

But before he could stop Cruel. Suddenly Cruel took out his sword.

Deon thought that Cruel would kill him right then and there. But it turns out that Cruel actually blocked the attack from the assassin.

He saw him blocked the attack that was mean to him. “Why?”

He gazes at him in disbelief, struggling to comprehend what Cruel has done for him. Wasn't he supposed to hate him and want him dead? So why did he step in to block that attack?

“I don’t have time to explain. There’s someone who wants to kill you.”

“You'll have a trouble to avoid it now because he even sent an army capable of killing a hero like us.”

Deon was shaking with fear when he saw the troops, the black uniform asassins who could even kill heroes like him.

But Cruel soothe him by placing his hand on his head, make Deon's attention focused at him

“The human world is no longer safe for you."

"Go to the other side and come back, Deon"

“Kill the two of them!”

Cruel swiftly dodged the assassins and arrows aimed at him. Rather than fleeing, Deon chose to assist Cruel in taking down the attacker.

So the two of them work together.

Until finally an arrow shot towards Deon who was unaware of this

And Cruel was the one who protected Deon and allowed himself to be hit by the arrow. The arrow struck Cruel, causing blood to flow from his wounds.

“You..!!! What are you doing right now, protect me when i don't even ask it?”

“What are you acting like you care now, you-“

He being paused…

And he stopped talking, the cold sweat began to appear, his body began to tremble even when it was a sunny and hot day. he's started having seizures.

but cruel closes Deon's eyes to reality. Like wants to shield him from this evil world.

"do not worry about it."

"Do as usual, only think about what you're thinking is right."

Then Cruel pushed Deon and didn't realize that he would be stabbed in the heart.

Deon caught sight of it; the knife glimmered briefly, catching the sunlight just before it aimed for Cruel's back. That moment made me step back from the strike, and I noticed him smiling with a knowing look.

'Brother..."

When I witnessed the knife that was about to penetrate his heart and my world will became bleak.

Plats

The white light repelled the sword. Cruel and the that person snapped from the intervention.

"You guys okay?" She appeared out of nowhere, basking in the sunlight, and for a brief moment, she resembled an angel in Deon's eyes.

"Adele..."

To Be Continued

[imaginethezeldaverse]

The Desert's Moon (Ganondorf x Reader) (NSFW)

Welcome, welcome to the 100 follower fic I set all those polls for! You all chose and waited so patiently, so please allow me to give you the winner: a good fic with our big bad guy, Ganondorf (Tears of the Kingdom version). This will be nsfw, and just to be safe, be wary of any spoilers below the cut, okay? For this fic I'm running with an idea that was dropped in my inbox - initially I had planned to make it a simple headcanon post, but since he won, I'm writing it as a full blown fic instead. Thank you all for voting, it sincerely means a lot, I cannot believe even more of you have followed me since then. The comments and appreciation from you all truly makes my day. 🥹 As for the theme: you are inexperienced (we'll even say virginal) and Ganondorf here is going to be your first. Let's explore that together, shall we? Reader is gender neutral for all to enjoy. I sniped some fictional Gerudo language from here because I mean Ganondorf is a Gerudo man...he definitely should be able to speak the language.

Ganondorf is intimidating, this much is true. His demeanor exudes power in all things he does: fight, lead, and even fuck. He's had many a partner, his skills as a lover growing with each encounter of his past. He is not unfamiliar with experienced partners - and he will show you the patience and slowness you deserve.

The key is for you to be honest with him. Should you try to front as though you are experienced in sex, just know that he can see right through you. Ganondorf's read on body language is exceptional - so the slight shake in your body or the quiver in your voice is an immediate alert to him that you aren't what you're trying to portray yourself as. To your benefit however, he'll most likely find this cute. You attempting to be brave and take him head on is adorable, even though you have no idea what you'd be getting into (or really what would be getting into you). Being upfront however is not without its loss - you'd gain his respect and potentially a chance to call him an equal, he likes the idea of a long-term partner who can be honest with themselves as well as him.

For a man of his size and status, he's quite gentle. He offers to hold you first in your nudity, get you used to feeling his body against yours. Ganondorf will most likely seat you in his lap, with your legs splayed open over the length of his hips and thighs. Should you shy away or find yourself embarrassed by the less than polite way you're sat on him, he'll simply chuckle, reiterating that this is to acclimate you. His hands will find a place on your thighs, unmoving, but present. "Touch me anywhere you'd like," he offers, the rich amber of his eyes meeting your own. Setting the pace in your favor will help ease some of your apprehension. Your hands explore the planes of his body: his adept, powerful hands; the sizable, muscular curvatures of his forearms and biceps; over the thickened bands of his shoulders and down to the broad expanse of his chest. He's a mountainous man in size and that alone has you a tiny bit afraid, but you also can't deny that being able to trace your fingertips over the patterned tattoos that stretch across his muscles doesn't elate you.

When your hands finally cup the wide angles of his jaw, you find the pluck to once more lock eyes with the Gerudo chief. There's something unreadable swimming in them: whether it's tenderness or restraint you aren't wholly sure. His arm wraps around your lower back, bring you ever closer to him in a swift push. Your hands remain on his face, lips inching closer. Ganondorf doesn't kiss you. No, he wants you to be the one to take the honor of taking the first step. The world talks of his lust and greed for power, and make no mistake, the rumors are very much true. But this - intimacy with you - Ganondorf knows better than to rush. Taking you by force serves him little, and there is humanity in him still that bars him from wanting any harm to come to you. To feel your body yearn for him willingly only makes that much sweeter. Your breaths mingle momentarily, your heart pounding in your chest until you finally take the plunge and seal the gap. You're chaste in your kiss, timidity holding your tongue. No matter, the sensation of his thick digits roaming over the curve of your ass has you gasping enough against his mouth for him to coax you into a deeper kiss. Unbeknownst to you, your head tilts naturally, angling so that you can continue the kiss comfortably. You let go of his face, your fingers sliding into his long vermillion locks. There's a sound vibrating at the back of his throat that hits your ears so pleasantly - the simple soothing sensation of your hands in his hair delights him, so naturally he wants you to know it. The kiss builds heat, your body slowly beginning to want his hands to move beyond your backside. You lean into him, pressing your chest to his and linking your arms around his neck. The smile that curls his lips upward is something you can feel, and you almost smile back - but his hands that have now occupied a space on your hips are dragging your body over his lap. Ganondorf parts from your mouth, watching you bite your lip as he slowly grinds you over what you realize is his length beginning to grow rigid beneath you. Breaths slowly starting to come in shudders you snap your eyes shut, focusing on how his length slides teasingly over where you biologically know he's going to be soon enough.

"Do you feel me?" he purrs, dark tiger eyes trained on your flushed features, "Do you feel my want for you? My desire?" Your thighs are seeking one another to lock this feeling between them, but his hulking mass keeps them widely separated - your center at the mercy of his ministrations. Seeking purchase, your nails dig into his shoulders, earning a pleased rumble from the man. His lips find the hollow of your throat, easing pointed kisses and gentle bites to your sensitive flesh. Soft moans sound angelic to Ganondorf's ears; with ease he lifts you into his arms, your legs still very much wrapped as best as possible around his torso. Smooth, crimson silks caress your back as you're laid across the stretch of his bed. He doesn't stop kissing your body, only proceeds to move down it. Your collarbone, your nipples, the softness of your stomach: all places his lips tease and touch. He drinks your whines and whimpers in as though starving, an innate need to hear your voice call out to him ever growing. Still, he keeps slow. Rough finger pads glide down your body, stroking and fondling a pathway until he settles on his knees, with your legs splayed open by the sheer width of him. Those kisses that traveled now dot their way from your knee and inward. Your breath hitches, you know where he's going...you desperately want him there. As he reaches closer and closer, you shudder out, "P-Please...Gan..." Those initially amber slits, now ochre with hunger, slide up to see your face. Your cheeks are stained with reddish hues with your chest rising and falling faster than before.

"Is there something you need?" the timbre in his voice makes somewhere your stomach clench. How is it just his voice makes you feel this way? What kind of spell has he cast on you? Though your mind tries to wrack itself with answers, it always circles back to the lips that are nipping at your inner thighs. He places a kiss just close enough for you to feel his breath over your sex and you swallow thick with the gasp that tries to free itself.

"Your...mouth..." says you in a shaky whine, "Please..."

Like satin and fire, his chuckle is both suave but with the promise of something vile. A strong grip parts your legs further, holding you wide open. You try desperately not to look at how he drinks your nudeness in, fearing that you seeing the sheer lust flashing across his strong features will have you curl into yourself.

His mouth descends.

You gasp sharply.

Hot and wet is his tongue against your opening, circling your responsive flesh, his eyes never leaving your face. Ganondorf watches on as his silver tongue devours you, each lap and suck at you surging pleasure through your limbs. With one last scoop at your hole, he drew back. There was a question at your lips when you felt him retreat, but before you could even get a word out, you felt his finger carefully slide into you.

"A-Ah!" you mewled, then hissed. Given the size of him overall, even his fingers were substantial in filling you somewhat.

"Shhhhh," Ganondorf hushed your seizing frame. A hand came to your thigh, his thumb stroking in soothing circles the same time his opposite finger exited you, "Relax, my va'ina, you'll need to be much more open if you plan to take me." Your body shudders as you breathe, willing yourself to relax yourself in his ministrations. Having already gave you some slickness there, his finger meets less resistance than normal. His eyes roam your figure slowly, watching all of the small shivers and shakes that begin to build as his digit steadily works in and out of you. A spark of want pulses up your hips, with each coax of his finger you felt tiny rivulets of desire multiply inside you.

"Ganondorf..." came your gentle plea. This feeling was slowly starting to feel inadequate, your hips moving ever so slightly to try and chase the sensation of fullness. Chuckling at your urgency, the Gerudo chieftain withdraws his finger - adding another and sliding back into you. Eyelashes aflutter, you mewl at the sensation of being filled once more.

"There we are," he mused, smirking at the way you're snatching your bottom lip between your teeth. Gradually his fingers stretched you open, separating minutely as he fed your body each stroke. As soon as you had acclimated, you found yourself once again needing more. His hand, though making you feel good, was simply proving not to be enough. Ganondorf recognizes this as your features scrunch with some frustration. You need him, don't you? You need more than just two measly fingers to give you the passion that you seek.

"Your body seeks more than my current attentions I see," he says matter-of-factly, withdrawing his now very wet digits.

You turn your head away to blush, being read like an open book made your body burn with some embarrassment. Yet Ganondorf understood. He lifts your leg by your calf, pressing a kiss into the muscle there. "No worry, I'll give you everything you seek." He sits upright now, towering over your supine frame, a hand at each of your knees. You know what comes next, and though you tremble under him, there's a fire in those eyes of his that keeps you brave. Fingers descend upon his. He catches your gaze, doe-like and nervous, but no sign of withdrawal within them.

"You'll go slow, won't you?" you ask him, your heart mere seconds away from jumping out of your chest. There's an expectation for him to laugh at such an innocent, if not naïve question - but he surprises you when his hand takes your chin between two large fingers and keeps your eyes to his. Softness unlike you've ever seen in him stares back at you. "I wouldn't dream of bringing you harm, va'ina, you're safe with me." His words bring you comfort, allowing you shut your eyes in readied bliss. To reflect this, you spread your legs further apart, "Then I am yours, Ganondorf."

His lips find yours, hungry in its kiss. As his tongue melds against yours, he slips a hand down to grasp himself. You feel the slight shift of his body on yours, strong thighs flush to the backs of yours. He parts from the kiss, though his face remains close, "Ready?" Unable to trust your voice, you simply nod. His muscular frame surrounds your body, encasing you in his warmth. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you inhale sharply when he presses into you. Considerable length and girth stretch you far more than his fingers could even attempt. He's slow, methodical in his pace. So much so that he stops, just past the head of him, the second you tense in his arms.

"Breathe..." coaches Ganondorf, his voice showing the tiniest hint of strain. Though shaky, you try to follow his advice, and it calms your body enough for him to advance. Your mouth drops open from the pressure, hands gripping his shoulders for purchase as another inch fills you. The man above pecks loving kisses to your face as he sneaks a hand downward. He revels in the pleased gasp you let out when his fingers stroke your sex, "That's it...open up for me..." With him steadily plunging into your depths and the deliberate tease of his hand at your most sensitive area, you recognize that same spark from earlier.

Want. Need.

He slides in further still, about at halfway down the whole of him now. His hand doesn't relent on your flesh, easing over you with the intent to build the ecstasy he knows you're absentmindedly chasing. Ganondorf has every intention to bring you to rapture, but again - at your pace. There's a tremor in your thighs that shakes against his hips, he gives you more of him; but the noise you let out this time is a moan muffled only by the barrier of your bitten lip. He grins at this, supply your body with just a bit more. No reaction this time - you were getting used to him. His fingers stroke you for a few more counts, this being just enough for you to take him all the way to the hilt. You keen slightly, so impossibly full and almost dizzy from how overwhelmingly large he feels inside of you.

"Stay with me, love" he whispers, his opposite thumb stroking your cheek. The deep octave of his voice and the tender caress soothe you enough to lean into his touch. Ganondorf captures your lips once more, this kiss slower than the last. His hips remain still though his tongue ravages your mouth, and it pulls a licentious moan from you; the knowledge of him locked deep inside you as he kisses you so fervently has you yearning for what you know you want most. His mouth moves into your neck, and without hesitation your fingers bury into his fiery mane. There's a slight withdrawal of his hips, and you welcome the feeling now, the minor shift of friction feeding into a feeling at the most basic level of your instincts.

"More," your quivered voice speaks in his ear, "P-Please."

He's touched at your politeness, though it's unnecessary. You are a being to be worshipped in this regard, though you didn't realize it, you would never need to beg from him. Touching his forehead to your own, Ganondorf rumbles deep in his chest, pulling almost all of the way out of you before sliding all the way back in. "Nnngh, yes..." Ah, all he needed to hear. Adept hands place themselves at two points: a fist near your head for steadying, and a hand bracing underneath your back to keep you there. Leisurely, shallow thrusts easily evolved into deep, harder strokes. Your body would transform - blossom from tightly wound and tense to fully open and wanting.

The Gerudo male knows you're fully spellbound by your lovemaking when your nails begin to bite into the muscle of his shoulder blades - a most welcome pinch of pain. He's fully working you into you now, his hips immovable pistons to fuck you fully now. Your sweet and soft moans were climbing in crescendo, his name tumbling in slurred syllables off your honey covered tongue. Unable to stop himself now, Ganondorf growled into the junction of your neck and shoulder, pulling your body as flush to him as he could.

"Ah, ohh, mmf! Ahhhh G-Gan," you whined, clinging to him, "My body's on fire...I nghh I...!"

He feels you tightening around him, his pants are harsh as they dampen your skin, "Let it happen...let me have all of you." With only a few strokes of him you fall apart in a scream, your body winding up impossibly tight and then loosening entirely. The orgasmic pulse of your slickness around him milks him with an ungodly grip. He fucks you as fast as your body will allow, a few resounding claps against your flesh combining with the cries of your slight overstimulation that finally bring him to his own end. His strong fingers dig into you as he cums, hot and fast, in a wildly indecent roar. Your hands hold him in his place on your body, welcoming every drop of the licentious liquid that he spills inside of you. His hips begin to slow, still sliding in and out of your now sopping hole, and though you were already long finished, you moan at the sensation of his cock pulsing and feeding your body even now.

When he finally can take no more, he pulls from you entirely in a rough grunt. You feel the weeping of his seed from your entrance, but you are far too exhausted to care. Your body hums in pleasured bliss, but your limbs, so worn from a use you'd yet to experience until today, feel akin to lead. Never an issue, however, as Ganondorf carefully maneuvers you both so you can rest comfortably: with you at his side. His fingers traced the curves and lines of your body in silence, your hand and head rest at his chest.

"Gan...?" your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes lazily move to you. Your heart flutters with candid bravery, "...I love you."

He smiles at this. Fitting words for a connection as deep as this. His hand covers your head, pressing you closer to his chest in a protective maneuver. Ganondorf is anything but vulnerable...but even a man as mighty as he isn't incapable of feeling.

"You have my heart, va'ina. You are mine as I am yours."

You hum contentedly, happy to fall asleep in the arms of the man who loved you.

[shameless-army]

Get to know your mutuals | tag game

I was tagged by the lovely @borathae thank you so much for the fag💛💛 it's been so long since I last saw these circulating around here, feels so nostalgic!!

what's the origin of your blog title?

I was a child at the time (not literal) and I had lots of internal shame about what I was reading being raised in religion etc. I wanted to be shamelsss as I saw shame keeps me from many things. Hence the name. Gotta say i succeeded haha.

favorite fandoms: 

Army all the way. This is the only fandom i am a part of and will ever be a part of. 

OTP(s)/shipname:

I don't have one, but if I think really hard, do bong soon and ahn min hyuk and bangtan with each other

Favourite colour:

Yellow and pink atm

Favourite game

I am not a huge gamer, but I love all the cooking games, I love watching sims, and bts in the seom

song stuck in your head:

Who by jimin it's such an earworm 

weirdest habit/trait?

I love making poop jokes lol

Hobbies

Crocheting, knitting, singing, dancing, painting, streching, sketching, going on walks, looking at trees, looking at the sky, cycling, sculpting, cooking, eating, writing poetry, thinking about the world, debating, astrology, tarot reading, meditating etc

if you work, what's your profession?

I don't work yet, I am a med student 😭 

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Albeit i wish we didn't have to work to earn a living, i would love to work with doctors without borders someday. If there was a world where you can just jump to different jobs, i would love to be a chef, dancer and classical singer

something you're good at:

I am good at all the aforementioned hobbies, I pick up things easily thankfully, unfortunately this ends with me having 27727181 hobbies.

Making people feel needed, comforted and welcomed is the generic thing I am good at

something you're bad at:

Lying, you can always tell if I am lying to your face. Taking care of myself, being my own cheerleader just fully loving myself lol. Spellings too

something you love:

Animals and nature and having time to do any of my hobbies. I also love talking to old people, and children. I love to ask questions the most, no matter who the person is i always have a why.

Making terrible jokes and flirting for sports.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

Climate change, being healthy in mind and body, animals etc.

something you hate:

Overpopulation, we should contain our selves, we are not the sole species of the earth there are so many who came before us and should honor that, and not be selfish in hounding all the resources the earth have to offer. 

Religion, (all kinds) I am very anti religion and what it's done to others, if people keep their  views to themselves that would be great, but it rarely happens. (Remember people anti religion not anti people there is a difference)

Something you collect:

Kinks and trauma lol seriously though i collect yarn. And if I find some, i collect cool rocks.

Something you forget:

Everything except birthdays and important dates. Imo I am showing up where it matters haha

what's your love language?

All of them? Mostly physical touch and gift giving. But i believe we all have all the love languages

favorite movie/show:

Movie: the handmaiden

Show: Rn it's house MD (typical I know 😭)

Favourite food:

Everything under the sun. I am a huge foodie, I just don't tolerate cheeses and some meats well though :(

Favourite animal:

All of them 😭😭😭 mostly cats though 😭😭

are you musical? 

Idk I sing well accept that no, but I would love to learn electric guitar and violin.

what were you like as a child?

Oof, I was the child who you can always catch thinking, the amount of thought I had was actually insane. I was a huge loner though always daydreaming etc. 

favorite subject at school?

It was not fixed, I loved biology ever since I first studied it, i liked physics and hated maths until 9th grade, then hated physics and loved maths until graduation. I loveeeedddd literature though. So much !!!!

least favorite subject?

History and political science, but somehow I was good at it, talk about things running after you when you run away.

what's your best character trait?

I am very accepting, and i love very deeply 

what's your worst character trait?

I am very accepting and i love very deeply lol.

Also I feel like i take things too seriously, that is, I am very sensitive which bites me in the ass s lot especially with how the world is heading towards more superficial things. I have heard take it easy s lotttt. What can I do I am a passionate person.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?

Get my clinics cancelled so I can sleep 😭

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?

So many people I have thought about it so much, and i have so many answers. Right now i wanna meet Akhbar the great, i want to ask him how he United so many people of different religions in his court. 

Also while coming back i would like to hug my younger self, God knows she needs that.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love)

Ohhh all the fics i reread constantly are tagged under #rereading check them out they are amazing. Rn it's take home test by @versigny And for science by @boymeetsweevil (alltime fav) #My favourite is another tag you can find fics under:)

tagging (no pressure! I know it can be a lot so)

@angelicyoongie @wwilloww @yoonia @xjoonchildx @missgeniality @xpeachesncream

[cceanvvaves]

show me; m.mn

(moved to isanggayfrog) warning: none

"I want to know how much I mean to you," Mina, my friend of 4 years, said. I stared at her for a moment, not fully comprehending what she had said. We had met during high school, when I bumped into her and sent her books sprawling on the floor. Cliché, I know, but that was what happened. Ever since, she stayed by me, reminding me of things I had forgotten or inviting me to hang out somewhere. She was the main reason I passed with impressive grades, what with her constant tutoring. She was - and is - also the sole reason I tried. I plastered a smile on my face.

"You know already. I love-"

"Love is just a word. If you can say it so easily, then you must not mean it," she cut me off. I could not read her body language, nor her eyes. I hated the fact she knew how to hide her emotions so easily while I was the polar opposite. Shifting uneasily on the table where I habitually sat, I tried again. "You're my best friend."

I hoped that it was the answer she wanted, but to my dismay she frowned. "Is that all I am to you?"

If I'm being honest, no, it's not all she is to me.

Mina is the very reason I wake up in the morning when all I want to do is dive back under the covers. My day brightens when I see her smile no matter what happens. Her infectious laugh sounds like music to my ears. I melt at the way her usually strict gaze turns gentle upon meeting my eyes. Her hands are so soft I had to make the excuse that "I need you to know 10 reasons why today is a good day" just to hold them.

But I can't tell her that. She means a lot to me, but she probably doesn't see me as more than a friend.

"Well?"

I played with the hem of my sweatshirt, trying to find the proper words to tell her without lying nor giving anything away. It proved to be difficult, the words were already in my mind but I couldn't catch them, the words were at the tip of my tongue but refused to leave my lips.

"Y/N? You still there?"

I sighed harshly, forcing myself to look into her eyes. I tried not to drown in their soft brown hue, pulling me in and whispering at me, telling me to just let go of reality and stare into them forever. I tried to show my emotions through my eyes.

She did not seem to see.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she demanded, huffing and crossing her arms. "Why don't you just answer me and be done with it?"

"Why do we need to talk?" I retorted. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at my outburst. I decided to continue. "You said it yourself. Love is just a word. All the words in the world simply describe something, but words aren't enough to describe what I feel for you. You know what they say, 'actions speak louder than words'."

Mina took a step forward. "Okay," she said quietly. "Show me then."

I turned red. This wasn't what I expected would happen. "Should I?"

"Yes."

"But..." I trailed off. How should I do it without making her uncomfortable?

She walked forward, stopping between my legs. Her hands trapped me in place, making me turn - if possible - even redder. "Kiss me," she breathed.

"Are you sure?" I had to make sure. I can't make a mistake as grave as this.

But I didn't have to worry. Mina nodded impatiently, prompting me to lean forward until our noses touched. I felt her hot breath fanning against my lips. I admired every detail of her face, taking advantage of our close proximity. Screwing my eyes shut, I pressed my lips on hers, feeling them cushion mine.

Her hands made their way up my body, stopping to rest around my shoulders and tangling themselves in my hair. Mine snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

Unfortunately, air became an issue. Both of us reluctantly pulled away, putting our foreheads together and staring deeply into each other's eyes. Slowly, we both smiled.

"I think I know how much I mean to you now, because that's exactly how much you mean to me."

[littlemisskittentoes]

get to know kittentoes!

this is such a fun way to strengthen connections around the little pod of us that interact in the same fandom space! so a MASSIVE thank you to @happiness-of-the-pursuit for thinking of me to tag!

without further ado, get to know me better under the cut!

First Set

Last Song: Valerie by Amy Whinehouse

Last Film: the new Mean Girls movie!

Currently Reading: okay, this is kind of like, a two part question--

fic-wise: the PJO AU (by Rhys, Manu, and Beas ! and i'm also doing an in-depth portfolio crawl through Sarah's ao3 !

outside of fic: i'm working my way through volume five of Lore Olympus, and reading Local Woman Missing by Mary Kubica, and of course, i fall asleep every night to the RWRB audiobook, so that's a constant bip

Currently Watching: i've been informed that i'm supremely late to the game, but i just finished season one of True Detective! and, of course, i'm staying tuned for the weekly episode release of PJO

Currently Consuming: some good old h2o! the last thing i ate were some sugar snap peas!

Currently Craving: an aunt of mine makes these really really tasty salads with different sprouts and seeds, fresh tomato and cucumber from her garden, some avocado, and her own dressing. an Aunt Paula salad would slap right now

Second Set

Were You Named After Anyone?

Yes! Sarah comes from my paternal great grandmother, my middle name comes from my maternal great grandmother!

When Was The Last Time You Cried?

Mmm, two or so weeks ago i got into an altercation with one of the feral cats i take care of while trying to capture them to go to the vet. it did not go well, and i felt awful that i scared him

Do You Have Kids?

i do not! i was in a four year relationship where i took on a kind of 'step parent' role from the time the child was a newborn onward. so, i do occasionally see her. but outside of that, no. and i'm not someone that ever pictures themselves changing that

What Sport Do/Have You You Played?

sigh alright, so i played soccer as a very young child-- not great at it. tried basketball for a bit-- also terrible at that. went for volleyball-- gave a girl a concussion trying to serve overhand. FINALLY, i started cheerleading and ended up as cheer captain for a number of years!

Do You Use Sarcasm?

i think so! i'm pretty sure i use some dry humor occassionally

What's The First Thing You Notice About Other People?

probably smile, or if they have a more general welcoming aura/body language!

What's Your Eye Color?

brown!

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

as much as i'm an absolute hopeless romantic, my go to is actually horror! i'm an adrenaline junkie and LOVE to be scared! i can easily be pursuaded into a romance movie though

Any Talents?

i'm actually a very confident public speaker. i still have some of my cartwheels and splits from my cheer days. and i'm decently okay at keeping up my score during jeopardy! lastly, i'm pretty good with some watercolor paints and a micron pen

Where Where You Born?

Northern US!

What Are Your Hobbies?

i help run a local poetry open mic night, i'm fairly active in my local bdsm scene, and i have a constant revolving door of hobbies i entertain for about a week and completely forget about (most recently it's been crystal 3d puzzles, painting book edges, and making shrinky dink earrings)

Do You Have Any Pets?

so many... i live with my parents at the moment, and they have one dog and eight cats! we also care for a colony of feral cats that live on our property

How Tall Are You?

5'3 (1/2)" ! am smol gorl

Favorite Subject in School?

english! i was also a massive studio art nerd though

Dream Job?

you know, all through undergrad and my master's program, i always said that i would have loved to have been a manuscript editor. i even had an internship helping edit poetry chapbooks! but now that i've found myself in a sphere where I get the privilege of beta-ing for a handful of friends, it feels like that skill set is already able to be used and stretched. so, i'm not super sure! maybe something with animals?

alright!! sending out a no pressure tag to some of my beloveds @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- @affectionatelyrs @gayrootvegetable @anincompletelist @leojfitz @leaves-of-laurelin @matherines @wordsofhoneydew @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @user-anakin

[aelinschild]

THREE

Holding Me Like Water In Your Hands

Main Masterlist | HMLWIYH Masterlist

And I'm back with chapter three! Apologies for the long absence, I was away without my computer, and when I got back I got very sick. But I'm pushing through. Any who, enjoy, and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate feedback.

SYNOPSIS:A cross continental move forces Aelin Galathynius to open her eyes wider than before, and at the doors of Terrasen's most exclusive and expensive private high school, she realizes her life is flowing through her. And if she wants to make the most of her life, she needs to grab onto something. Or maybe someone. WORDCOUNT: 1.8K GENERAL WARNINGS: Language, Drug use, Alcohol, Allusion to sex/intimacy, Brief descriptions of sexual assault, Domestic violence, Very severe angst, Messy Divorces (More to be added)

The sun woke me up. Lazily climbing up in the sky, beckoning me to get something done on my last free weekend before high school would begin. 

On the drive up from Rifthold, Mom spent at least twenty minutes going over every detail of my newest ‘adventure’. 

Orynth Rise High School.

An extensive campus harboring some of Orynths brightest, and most wealthy, students. Large enough to be a university campus, with buildings stretching all over the acres of land situated right on the outskirts of the city. Apparently, the school has frequent renovations to update the already luxurious conditions. Spacious classrooms, lounge areas designated for different years, and all the newest tech. 

What really piqued my interest was the Orynth Grand Library, also on campus. 

Shortly after I woke, Mom appeared at my door with a peace offering. Black coffee. The tension between us was palpable, and in true Galathynius fashion, rather than facing that, she presented me with what looked like a body bag and a thick, but sturdy book. She instructed me that I should get started on the book, and familiarize myself with the suspicious body bag, before she walked away, again. 

I've curled myself up in the chair at my antique desk, and I flip through the hundreds of pages of Orynth Rise High School’s Code Of Conduct. I flip back to the uniform section - pages 34 to 57 - and read through the bulleted lists of do’s and don’ts. 

“...under no circumstance should a student ever find themselves in anything but the accepted ORHS uniform… should weather hinder standard protocol… leisure days are prohibited and behaviour that disobeys dress code will be…”

“How fun,” I murmur, still flipping through pages of dress code regulations. There are entire pages dedicated to washing instruction. 

My eyes drift over to where said uniforms are laid out on my bed. I've been provided with two dark green blazers, lined with gold stitching and gold buttons, and emblazoned with a sweeping arc of fire, soaring hawk, and ORHS stitching over the left breast. There are two black skirts, a pair of black pressed trousers, and a black uniform dress. Plus three starched, collared white shirts. And according to the ‘Code Of Conduct’ handbook, I'll need some sort of black-heeled or flat shoe. 

My gaze sweeps over the clothes. It really could be worse. The greens not terrible, and the gold is certainly unique. The hawk is definitely something, but I'm picking different battles. 

Riftholds Private Elementary School had basic uniforms, so this isn't a foreign notion, but younger me thought high school meant more freedom, like the freedom to wear jeans or something along those lines. 

The ticking of my brass clock punctuates the silence of my room, and I can hear the front door of the house open, then close. I shift off the desk chair and move to the bay window, where I have a clear view of Evalin Galathynius speed-walking towards the Audi parked in our driveway to the three-car garage. Her phone is between her shoulder and ear as she gets into the car, then promptly reverses and speeds off. 

And suddenly the day is feeling a lot more optimistic. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two teenage-looking boys tossing around a basketball. They're out playing on the driveway of the house across the street two doors down. There's a blond and a brunette, with identical deep skin tones. They toss the ball back and forth, run circles around each other, or simply push each other over. I crack a smile when the blond tosses the ball directly at the brunette's head and it bounces off, nearly going into the net. 

Both boys look like they're around my age, and I wonder if they attend ORHS. I continue to watch them until my staring borders on stalking, and I make my move to freshen up before I explore this new house. 

-

I was born in Orynth. My Dad’s family was from here. But Rhoe and Evalin packed up and skipped town when I was three, and so I was whisked away from full evergreen trees and fresh mountain air to compact townhouses and to the heavy heat of a packed city. 

Why we moved away, I never really understood. But I also didn't know that I wasn't Ardalanian until I was nine. So while the wind coming through the window I cracked open in the kitchen smells like home, and settles onto me in a way I've never felt, I can't help but feel anxious with the lack of noise. Rifthold was loud, the city never slept. And living practically in the business center of the city meant that honking taxis and frustrated drivers were the constant background noise. 

Orynth is quiet. The mountains I can see from said kitchen window give me the impression of a sleeping giant. And capped in snow, I feel exceptionally out of my element. 

From scrounging around in the new kitchen, I find crackers and some licorice I bought at the gas station. A truly balanced breakfast. The dry crackers stick to the roof of my mouth, and the licorice tastes like plastic. I couldn't find plates, so my glorious meal is spread out on the butcher block countertop. 

The kitchen is nice, similar to the rest of the house. A navy blue theme carries throughout, decorating the large sectional couch, cabinets, and various pieces of unremarkable art. 

I feel like a weird stain upon this picture-perfect house, and to distract myself from the panic that's slowly creeping in, I pull my fancy phone out. Another Rhoe apology gift, the newest model I believe. 

I have fourteen unread messages from Dorian, some emails about promotional things I will never read, and a missed call from an unknown number. My phone tells me it's spam. 

>For the love of gods, answer your fucking phone

Dorian can be aggressively loving. 

<Yes?

>Finally

> I've been waiting for hours

>You have no idea the torture it has been

<You’re going to have to work on your separation issues riri

The typing bubble appears and disappears three times before I get a response. 

>Why did you leave linny?

I sigh, Isn't that the most popular question. I don't have an answer for my best friend because I don't even have an answer for myself. 

<Mom got a new job, i guess

And with that, I turn my phone off.

Lying to Dorian pains me. And he knows I'm full of shit, he can read me better than the books he practical consumes. But telling him that I have a suspicion that Dad’s cheating and Mom’s losing her mind probably is not the right way to go. 

After I choke down my meal, I rap my knuckles on the counter, bored. I push the barstool out and begin the trek to the front door, where I turn back around and face the house anew. Time for a tour. 

-

My new home is probably the exact same as three other houses on the block, and I take my time observing everything. From the front door, you emerge into the cozy living room. With the aforementioned navy blue sectional facing the limescaled brick fireplace. A powder room is to the right, and down the hall, you make it into the kitchen. The matte black light fixtures fall down from the high ceilings, where the staircase wraps around the opposite end of the room. To the right, is what I assume to be Mom's master bedroom, and to the left is the dining room. Which leads into a full glass wall with a wonderful view of the fences that surround the backyard. 

My hand glides along the staircase railing, and when I reach the landing, rather than going to the right, back towards my bedroom, I turn left. Three rooms line this side of the house, and when I open the first door I’m met with a study. The far wall is windows, and a large desk sits in the middle of the room. I spot some of the boxes from the Audi in the corner of the room. So this will be Mom’s study. The next door is another washroom. Which makes four in this house already, if both my and my mother’s rooms have ensuites. 

When my hand reaches the handle of the final door, it doesn't move. I jiggle it around, maybe it's stuck? The door doesn't budge. 

More secrets. 

Just then I heard the front door open and my mother's heels on the hardwood floors. 

“Aelin! You better be up!” She calls out. 

I mentally groan, there goes my day. 

-

Where Mom disappeared remains a mystery, but she returned with an overflowing need to go grocery shopping. 

Currently I am commandeering the shopping cart while she browses the organic cereals in the aisle. She's been perusing the brightly coloured boxes for a few minutes now, and I'm picking at my nails. I've peeled off a few layers surrounding, and the nail is bitten down. A symptom of my recent anxieties. 

"Aelin, love, do you want the strawberry granola or the blueberry? Both have all the macronutrients you need to be eating…" she trailed off. 

"Strawberry," I answer. 

She nodded and grabbed two boxes, setting them into the cart alongside our multitude of organic produce and lean meats. 

She grabbed the list out of the back pocket of her sleek trousers and scanned the remaining groceries needed. When she trotted off, I follow her. 

I was certainly not a picture of grace in this moment, body slumped over the handle of the cart, practically dragging my feet. And I felt slightly out of place here too. The grocery store we are in was one of the largest in the city, and the primary one as well. The people here looked different from those from rifthold. Hardened. Like the mountain air cooled their urgency, and they were living more for the moment. 

Which was a shocking comparison to the people of Rifthold, whose urgency permeated their very cores, and oozed out over everyone else. You couldn't walk down the streets in Rifthold without careening into someone rushing somewhere else. 

As we made our way over to the nutmilks, I snagged a bag of chocolates off the shelf. 

A teenage boy in red coveralls is browsing the dairy milks beside us. 

He's pretty, with blonde hair so light it looks silver. Tall too, and lanky. I stare at him while mom opens the door to grab vanilla almond milk. She catches my eye when she turns around to place the milk in the cart. Looking in the same direction as me, we both briefly watch as the boy places his carton of milk in a basket and backs away. 

She looks back at me, and I see a smile when she realises I was staring. 

"Don't start," I say, rolling my eyes. 

Her little smile doesn't fall, and when we turn to go, piercing green eyes catch my own, and the boy smiles at me too. 

[dankusner]

STRANGE ANGLE: Christ For The Nations

The Church would love to sweep the whole subject under the rug and write us off, but unfortunately for the Church, Jesus said, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature."

In the last few years, the Church has grudgingly begun a feeble attempt to reach out to the gay community, but they haven't done their homework, so their tactics lack wisdom and their success rate proves it.

No religious group I'm familiar with is more guilty of his than Christ For The Nations.

For the last several years, I’ve watched in horror as this little Charismatic institute has witnessed on the gay strip in Dallas every Saturday night.

If his school doesn't prepare its students any better to reach the ther groups in society than it has to reach the gay commuity, I'd be surprised if they could take Christ to the next block.

About half of the students who witness are gay themelves, but they just haven't quite figured it out yet.

They're drawn to us like moths to flame, while telling themselves it's only concern for our souls.

This fact is a great source of amusement to the gay people they approach, and of course no one takes anything they say seriously.

The other half of this pointless posse of witless witnesses was even worse.

Their body language screams, "You pathetic little perverts should thank God we're holy enough to come down here to witness to you."

They always make me think of Corinthians 13:1.

Many has been the time I wanted to grab hem by the throat and say, "The sounding of your brass and the tinkling of your cymbals are really starting to get on my nerves."

These couples cling to each other so tightly you'd think they were being marched to their death.

It irritates homosexuals that they can't show affection in public, so for heterosexuals to come to our neighborhood and rub it in our face that they can does not build bridges or tear down walls.

Somebody at that school needs to tell these little brainless breeders they're witnessing to homosexuals, not auditioning or "The Love Connection."

I will give these couples credit for one thing.

By watching them operate, I've learned one of the greatest soul-winning tips I could ever discover: You don't win people to Jesus wearing rubber gloves and a surgical mask.

An insurance salesman who sprays the sofa with Lysol before sitting down probably won't sell a policy.

Unless a Christian is so full of the love of Jesus that he can talk to the vilest sinner and his body language says, "I love you where you are, and I'm here to minister to your needs, as I would unto Jesus," then he would be better off to stay behind his stained glass barricade.

One night as I walked to the bar, I was approached by a young lady from Christ For The Nations.

I had a few minutes to kill, so I stopped to talk with her.

When she learned I had been an Assemblies of God preacher, she said, "Well, in that case, you're familiar with the verse that says homosexual acts are an abomination to God, and God only used that word when he really hated something."

I smiled and assured her I had read the verse many times.

I then asked her to turn to Deuteronomy 22:5 and read it out loud.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity for her to find it, but finally this daughter of Jezebel began to read:

"The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God."

I said, "There's that word, 'abomination' again, and you are out here witnessing in men's blue jeans, zipper in the front and everything."

The poor little thing was struck dumb for an answer.

The Bible tells the Church to put on "the whole armour of God," but it's been my experience the students at Christ For The Nations are sent out without even a fig leaf.

One afternoon several years ago, I was switching through the radio when I came across a talk show on one of the religious stations hosted by a local Assemblies of God preacher.

He's better of on radio than television, because if you have to look at him you can't hear what is being said over the cheap toupee screaming from his head.

The one time I watched this brother on television, I actually thought I saw

Strange Angel: The Gospel According to Benny Joe

Ben Davis

SALVATION BY SATELLITE

Salvation by Satellite

I received a promotion and moved back to Dallas around 1981, but the desire to preach and be a part of a church was still in my heart.

Since I had met only rejection from the religious establishment, I decided to visit the largest of several gay churches in the city, which ran around 500 on Sunday morning.

The pastor was a former Assemblies of God preacher from up north.

Because this church must minister to souls who have been turned out of every other church in town, it has to cover a lot of bases.

Consequently, the morning worship service is very formal, with robes and candles, while the Sunday night service is evangelistic, and at times Pentecostal.

The thing that drove me up the wall was they take Communion every single service, one at a time, and they say a little prayer with each.

You might as well be waiting for the Rapture as to sit through 500 people taking Communion, one at a time, and to do this at every service seemed outrageous to me.

There is no place in the Bible that says a person must have grape leaves growing from his armpits to make Heaven.

The Bible does say as often as we take Communion we remember Jesus' death, but it doesn't say to dwell on it.

On the way home, I got to thinking about the differences involved in pastoring a gay church versus pastoring an Assemblies of God Church, and two similarities came to me immediately.

I'd have my hands full, in either congregation, trying to get the women to stop wearing pants and bobbing their hair.

At least with lesbians I wouldn't have to face a sea of Jezebels every Sunday like I would fi I pastored a modern-day Assemblies of God Church.

I visited the church several times, but since I wasn't a male stripper at Big Daddy's they weren't very friendly, so I never went back.

By this time, I'd all but given up on my fantasy of attending church ever again, and because of the rampant hypocrisy I had witnessed on every front, I had about come to the conclusion I didn't want to be associated with something that rotten to the core anyway.

Late night television is a passion of mine, so with the proliferation of religious stations I could at least observe without being snubbed, and I was stunned to see the precious Gospel of Jesus Christ being peddled like cheap furniture.

For $99 down, and $19 a month, Discount City will furnish your home, and for $99 down, and $19 a month for life, Brother Billy Bob Blowtorch will inscribe your name on The Scroll of Polyester that hangs in the Chapel of Tackiness on the campus of his university between the prayer tower and the water slide.

CBN, with 'The 700 Club" as anchor, has the glossiest operation, but I quit watching when Ben and Danuta left and politics muddied the water.

Robertson claimed God said if he would run, he would raise up a silent army that would put him in the White House.

Since Robertson ran, and God didn't lift so much as a finger to help, his humiliating defeat left me with one nagging question:

Wonder which one of them lied?

I was puzzled as to why any fundamentalists would support him, for two reasons:

They teach premarital sex will haunt a person for life, causing everything from chronic bad breath to Tupperware that won't keep its airtight seal, then turn around and support a rich, powerful man for President who admitted having a shotgun wedding.

A fundamentalist teenager would have to conclude a trip to the backseat of his car wasn't as life-threatening as he'd been led to believe.

I found it even more disturbing fundamentalists supported his heresy of wanting to be President to make the world a better place to live.

The Bible plainly states this world will only get worse, the closer we come to the end.

Christians have never been commanded to save the world, just the people in it.

While CBN fished for educated yuppies, PTL went after the J.C. Penney crowd, and they preferred them older and heavily insured.

I personally don't know a soul who took them seriously, but thousands of homosexuals watched Tammy Faye faithfully, I guess, because most of us are a sucker for a good female impersonator.

My all-time favorite outfit was Tammy Faye's matador ensemble, which was also my first time to see orthopedic chiffon.

A person shouldn't need more than a third-grade education in the Bible to know their operation was built on an unscriptural foundation.

Jesus commanded the Church to be "fishers of men."

He never mentioned building a water slide for lazy, whiny Christians.

I am ashamed to have to admit many of their followers were retired members of the Assemblies of God who should've known better.

They'd spent the first part of their lives on their knees, building a denomination that could withstand the onslaughts of Hell but over the years the fire went out so they traded in the prayer room on a Winnebago and were ready to spend their retirement years traveling the country in search of preachers who would scratch their "itching ears " — and if there was one thing Jim and Tammy Faye could do it was scratch people's ears.

I despised PTL's music, because it had that Richard Roberts, Las Vegas lounge-act, Charismatic style to it that has no place in Pentecostal worship.

In all the times I watched the show, there was only one exception, and her name was Mother Smith.

She was a wonderful black lady who got around with the aid of a walker.

They put her in front of the Heritage Village Choir, and she always sang, "Highway to Heaven."

If you closed your eyes, so you didn't have to look at all the makeup and jewelry flashing behind her, it finally sounded like a Pentecostal operation.

The testimonies PTL used to justify its existence were hysterically funny.

"My marriage was on the verge of breaking up, because my husband refused to put the cap back on the toothpaste, but thanks to the PTL Lovebird's Honeymoon Workshop, we're expecting twins in April."

Just what the world needs.

Two more kids being raised by morons.

The really sad part is this mighty miracle of God's Grace cost a million dollars in overhead, what with the name tags, rides, water slide, mall, and hotel to maintain.

If the money flushed down the PTL toilet had been given instead to the Foreign Missions Department of the Assemblies of God, they could've evangelized the Third World while feeding, clothing, educating, and providing medical care for millions more.

I would love to see Heritage Village suffer the same fate as Tyrus did in Ezekiel 26 and be bulldozed flat for a place to dry fishing nets.

I share an apartment with a man who moved to the United States from England.

His homeland is considered to be one of the most heathen nations on the face of the earth, because less than three percent of the population ever darkens the door of a church.

He had never even heard of the Pentecostal Church until we met, and it has been a real education to watch religious television with him.

I had told him one day about what it had been like to grow up in the Assemblies of God when I did.

I told him we lived soberly and modestly, and that we had believed the money other people spent on diamonds, gold, fancy clothes, and furs should be spent evangelizing the world, because our strongest belief was in the imminent return of Christ.

Nothing more was said about the subject until several nights later as we watched the spectacular, gala, grand opening of the Heritage Hotel and shopping mall.

We watched in silence as the announcer floated throughout the lobby introducing us to all the religious stars in attendance.

Sister Rex Humbard was so dolled up I didn't recognize her until he said who she was.

It was absolutely pathetic.

She looked like the lone survivor of a makeup factory explosion, and she sparkled from places she didn't even have.

At this point, my friend turned to me and said something every member of the Assemblies of God should hear.

In total innocence, he said, "I guess your Church doesn't believe in the imminent return of Christ, anymore."

I had to tell him that they still did, on paper, but that they just didn't act like it anymore.

There is one final thing that needs to happen before this disgraceful chapter in Pentecostal history ends.

The American Association of Pimps should recognize Tammy Faye Bakker with their Lifetime Achievement Award for taking the "street whore" look out of the gutter and putting it on the platform of most Assemblies of God churches.

TBN is the religious network I watch the most, because I believe Paul and Jan are committed to being good stewards of the Lord's money.

This network aims for the K-mart shopper, and since even Jesus said the poor would always be with us, it was good business sense to target an eternal audience.

One major problem is Paul and Jan's total lack of taste in fashion and set design, which makes them come across as ignorant bumpkins.

I'm sincere when I say I can't understand why Jan goes out of her way to make sure she looks like the madam of a Paris, Texas, whorehouse.

That look is so totally opposite from the position of leadership she has, and it turns many people off to the Gospel.

The woman simply should not be allowed to dress herself without adult supervision.

The main set for their "Praise the Lord" program, with its flaming red carpet, gaudy flocked wallpaper, Louis XIV furniture from Montgomery Ward, and drag queen staircase, is a textbook example of what can happen when straight people try to be interior decorators.

I didn't think anything could be any worse, and then they opened their Dallas studio.

It looks like they asked Wal-Mart to recreate Liberace's living room.

Talk about unnatural acts.

I wish they would grit their teeth, hire a licensed male designer, and let him correct the situation.

Unfortunately, every designer I've spoken with said they wouldn't even consider taking the job, unless they could burn the building down and start from scratch.

As tight-fisted as they are, I can't see Paul and Jan going for it, so my only hope is they might one day start broadcasting in black and white.

The other major problem I have with this network is the fact Paul and Jan try a little too hard to be all things to all people.

I tuned in one night as they were talking with a Charismatic Catholic priest.

It appeared they had presented him with a statue of the Virgin Mary, and I don't care what anybody says, Pentecostals have no business trafficking in idols.

The same goes for their "Christian" rock music shows; if for no other reason, it's of the Devil.

I'm also greatly disturbed by their "Muscles For Jesus" program, which always leaves me shaking my head such a thing could be presented in the name of Jesus.

The teenage girls were screaming so loudly from being worked up by the sight of sweaty, half-dressed muscle men, I actually had to turn the volume down-and this was coming from inside a church.

I can't understand why Pentecostal parents fight so hard to keep their kids from going to a rock concert to scream over half-naked, sweaty singers, and then turn around and send them to church to do the same thing.

These meetings peddle more sexual fantasies than most adult bookstores.

TBN desperately needs to stop being the messenger boy for so many Charismatic airheads.

Although Jimmy Swaggart didn't have his own network during the peak of his popularity, he was on so many times a day it seemed like he did.

After the bottom fell out, I spoke with many friends who were also raised in strict Trinity Pentecostal homes, and without exception, they all told me their parents were staggering from the humiliation of it all and had turned Brother Swaggart off forever.

He was very well known in the gay community because of his vicious and frequent attacks.

Since he was perceived as an enemy and major threat to our basic human rights, his activity was closely monitored and reported in the gay press.

His music, however, was very popular in gay country & western bars, and when one of Brother Swaggart's songs came on, the dance floor always filled up.

When he was caught playing peekaboo with a prostitute, gay people across the nation were literally dancing in the streets, and I couldn't blame them one bit.

After all the verbal abuse he had heaped on us, it felt good to be holding the baseball bat for a change.

He is reviled so greatly today in the gay community for being a lying hypocrite, his name is no longer mentioned in our press, and no one requests his music.

Over and over, I've heard Brother Swaggart put this one unscriptural sentence in his sermons, regardless of the topic:

"Homosexuality is the BLACKEST' of sins."

Actually, the Bible makes no distinction; it either is sin, or it isn't.

Under Brother Swaggart's rules, I guess visiting a $20 whore in a cheap motel must be the "BROWNEST" of sins.

I remember watching "A Study In The Word" one afternoon during the Bakker travesty, when Brother Swaggart looked the camera in the eye and said, "I have never fooled around, and if I ever did, I wouldn't have to worry about the Assemblies of God, because Frances would kill me before they could get to me."

Sister Swaggart yelled "Amen" convincingly, from behind him.

I wrongly surmised that no one would have the nerve to stand before God and millions of people and make such a statement if it wasn't true, but he did.

This callous lie, while he was rabidly attacking Jim and Tammy Faye, did more to destroy him than the sex scandal did.

I think everybody realizes in their private moments.

Whether they're honest enough to admit it publicly, that it's virtually impossible for one person to completely satisfy all the sexual needs of another person for their entire life.

We either brood, daydream, compensate, or start looking around.

I'm friends with the pastor of an historic Baptist Church in Dallas who liked me the minute he found out I was a back-slidden preacher.

The third time he borrowed my phone, and I overheard him ask three different women other than his wife if the coast was clear, I decided he must be more than a weather buff.

When I confronted him with it, he admitted when it came to sex he was any woman's dog who wanted to hunt.

I asked him how he justified such behavior, and he gave me three reasons.

As I suspected, "Once saved, always saved" was the first nag trotted around the track.

Next, he said, "You know how good sex is, and so does God, because he invented it. He knows I'm only human, so he won't hold it against me."

Then he said something I had to respect.

He said, "At least I'm not a hypocrite about it, because I never mention a word on the subject from the pulpit."

Jimmy Swaggart wouldn't be in the hot water he is today if he had adopted the same policy.

My roommate's parents came from England for a visit just after Jimmy Swaggart's tearful confession on national television, and they were flabbergasted to learn it was reality.

They said everyone in England thought it was a new nighttime soap opera like "Dallas," and I couldn't help but remember what I had been taught in Sunday School:

If you let the Devil make a fool out of you, he'll do it up big.

One night in the bar, an atheist friend of mine came running up and said, "Guess what, guess what, by the time the Assemblies of God decided to give Jimmy Swaggart forty lashes, Tammy Faye had beat them to 'em."

It's such a tragedy this had to happen, because Brother Swaggart was doing more good than all the other television preachers combined.

The same Evangel that reported Bakker's follies also carried many stories about the thousands being saved, the clinics, dental care, schools, and feeding programs Jimmy Swaggart was responsible for.

I could never totally write Brother Swaggart off, because of something that happened a few years ago.

Although Grandma Norris served God faithfully all her life, Grandpa continued to live for the Devil into his eighties.

Then one day he announced to the family he'd gotten saved, but to be honest about it, he was still pretty ornery.

Forget about any fruit on his tree; Momma would've been happy just to see a couple of leaves.

Grandpa lived with my parents the last month of his life, and one day, about two weeks before he died, it happened. Momma helped him to the living room after lunch, put a blanket over his lap, turned the television on to Brother Swaggart, and went back to the kitchen to clean up.

Ten minutes later she heard a noise and ran to see if Grandpa was okay.

She stopped in the doorway and began crying.

Brother Swaggart was preaching on the Baptism in the Holy Ghost hammer and tong, and Grandpa, with his frail little arms waving over his head, was speaking in tongues.

Of all the many nice things the Lord has done for my family, this ranked near the top with me.

I so appreciated God for giving Momma this one last assurance her Daddy was ready to go, and I also deeply appreciated Brother Swaggart for preaching Pentecost unashamedly.

If the Church plans to recapture even a semblance of its lost credibility, it must castigate these charlatans from the rooftops.

The Bakker/Swaggart soap opera, along with Oral Roberts' repeated trips to surgery for the removal of his foot from his mouth, has forever alienated more people to the Gospel than all the television preachers have won.

What good does it do the Church to win 10,000, if in the process they lose millions?

The ideal way to win the lost is at the grassroots, one by one, through strong, Holy Ghost-anointed churches, in which "signs and wonders" are an everyday occurrence, but there aren't very many of them.

If a local preacher falls only a few are affected, but if a television preacher slips — or gets caught wearing one he will drag millions down with him.

Christian television and the Church must work hand in hand, because Salvation is only the first step in a long process.

It takes a local church to root and ground a new convert in Christ, but with the condition of most churches today, this is like sending a man to a concentration camp to fatten up.

There are times when I become so overwhelmed by the rottenness of what claims to be The Church, I find myself rereading Matthew 16:18 for reassurance God will always have a pure remnant "and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."

Thank God, this vast midnight-hour landscape is still dotted with a few beacons of light "set on a hill," a few places the weary can find rest, a few forts built to withstand the onslaughts of Hell, and a few good men of God who still proclaim the saving Gospel of Jesus Christ with honesty and integrity.

I respect the ministries of Brother Dave Wilkerson and the Metro Assembly of God in New York City.

Giving to either is a wise investment in souls.

I appreciate Brother Wilkerson's frugal use of the saints' money, and the fact he's honest enough to admit how rotten the Church is.

I marvel at the dedication of the staff at the Metro Assembly, because they literally lay their lives on the altar each day to take the Gospel to the ghetto.

I appreciate the ministry of Brother John Hagee and recommend his program to Christians who are being starved to death by a lazy pastor.

Not only will your soul be fed, his humor will keep you laughing throughout the meal.

Brother Hagee has a bad habit of telling a joke in one breath and then, swinging the two-edged sword with "thus saith the Lord" accuracy in the next, so his congregations always alternate between laughing and yelling ouch.

I'm worried, though, that success is going to his head.

He seems to be spending more and more time selling tapes and organizing banquets and trips to the Holy Land, and less and less time preaching.

I respect and appreciate the ministry of Brother R. W. Schambach, who is one of the last surviving dinosaurs among old time Pentecostal preachers, and I mean that as the sincerest of compliments.

Brother Schambach is the only television evangelist I've ever had a nightmare about.

In a dream one night, I went downstairs, turned the television on, and there among all the New Age Pentecostal, "700 Club" Yuppies, sat Brother Schambach, sipping tea.

Fortunately, it scared me so bad I sat up in bed and woke myself up.

I didn't think I would ever get back to sleep, and the thought of it actually happening haunted me until one Sunday morning, while I was writing this book.

Brother Schambach was preaching Camp Meeting at Brother Swaggart's church, and I tuned in just as he pointed his finger at the camera, looked us in the eye, and said, "Folks, I want to tell you something. I am not Charismatic. I am Pentecostal from the top of my head to the soles of my feet."

I've learned the hard way not to listen to Brother Schambach preach if it's near my bedtime.

His preaching acts like a bellows to that "burning fire shut up in my bones for the past twenty years.

He makes me start pacing, like the old retired fire horses did when they heard the bell start clanging.

I have also always appreciated the ministry of Brother Billy Graham, and I respect him for never "casting pearls before swine."

He has great wisdom and always presents the saving Gospel of Jesus Christ in a forthright, easy to understand manner, in which "wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein."

The obvious goal of each of his services is to lift up Jesus.

Even the famous people who participate in his crusades unplug their personal stars so only Jesus shines.

His meetings are such a refreshing change from the standard fare on Charismatic Cinema.

If all these prideful preachers and religious entertainers would only "Cast their crowns at His feet," like Bily Graham has done, what a revival we would see!

The cry of the world is still "Sirs, we would see Jesus," and it's way past time the Church responded accordingly.

[the-hem]

"Arrows." Introduction to The Krishna Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Scourging of the Wicked.

The date or author of Krishna Upanishad is unknown. It is likely a late medieval era text. Manuscripts of this text are also found titled as Krsnopanisad. In the Telugu language anthology of 108 Upanishads of the Muktika canon, narrated by Rama to Hanuman, it is listed at number 96.

The Upanishad mentions 16108 maidens which is without a doubt Hebrew Gematria, it also mentions the evolution of Ramchandra into Krishnah. The Value in Hebrew means י״הח‎ץ "arrows" and the evolution of Ram which is a bhij, means "the desire to bring OM Tat Sat and Chit into being through speech".

The more one practices at the bow, the more accurate the aim of the archer will become. Since our world is very populous with the dipshitz, we are going to benefit a great deal form archery practice and gain some ground with all the social justice we decided to leave behind a few days ago.

The Upanishad is short, one page, and speaks of translation of the not-self into the Self through various stages of transition. The ovulation of Lord Krishna out of Sri Ramchandra is important as it signifies the first mission of man upon learning to speak, read, and write is obeisance to a way of life that is not violent, is completely chivalrous.

The Upanishad also mentions goddess Kali, who represents the wrath of the gods especially violence towards women. When violence towards women is prevalent in spite of the fact reading, writing, arithmetic and other features of civil society are present, Ma appears to return the favor. Anyone who commits acts of horror against women must die. This includes Donald Trump, the Taliban, Amy Coney Barrett, Brett Kavanaugh, Sam Alito, etc. all those Pro-Life organizations need to be closed down, the Catholic Church etc. need to be closed down.

We live in a modern age, we cannot have these things holding us back from achieving our mutual dream of a world that is not at war we know better. In spite of the fact the Upanishad refers to Ram and Krishna, it is actually a hymn of praise to goddess Kali who has come to remind women to stand their ground against the evil that is trying to swallow them up. The Upanishad says this is critical for mastery of heaven, to bring it down to earth:

Om ! O Devas, may we hear with our ears what is auspicious; May we see with our eyes what is auspicious, O ye worthy of worship ! May we enjoy the term of life allotted by the Devas, Praising them with our body and limbs steady !

May the glorious Indra bless us ! May the all-knowing Sun bless us ! May Garuda, the thunderbolt for evil, bless us !

May Brihaspati the god of prayer grant us well-being ! Om ! Let there be Peace in me ! Let there be Peace in my environment !

Let there be Peace in the forces that act on me !

When the sages living in the forest visited Sri Ramachandra who was the incarnation of the ever joyful God and who was extremely pretty, they became surprised and forgetting themselves said, “We want to embrace you, Oh Lord.” The God told them, “When I reincarnate as Lord Krishna, you will be born as Gopis and then you can embrace me.”[Their wish was fulfilled in Krishnavatara.] [the scourge of the wicked.]

1 During the time of incarnation of the Lord as Krishna, Gokula became the forest heaven. Those who had done penance earlier became trees in that forest. Characters like miserliness and anger became Asuras “devils”. The Kali period which was coming was postponed till the reincarnation period was over. That Hari “remover of sin” who was very pretty reincarnated himself as a Gopa Boy. His playful nature (play with the world) was an unknowable secret. Because of that the world was enchanted. Upanishads and portions of Vedas came in the form of 16108 maidens.

 The "mercy" was born as mother Rohini and the “earth mother” was born as Sathya Bhama “passion for truth”. “Humility” was born as Krishna’s friend Sudhama. “Control of senses” was born as Sage Udhawa and “Truth” was born as Sage Akroora.

The broken curd pots became to Krishna the ocean of milk so that he can play with it. This reincarnation was meant to destroy his enemies and to protect good people.

The sword in the hand of Krishna was the God of destruction, the Maheswara himself. Sage Kasyapa “a fish” was born as the mortar in Yasodha’s house “quicksilver” and The God mother Adithi became the rope which tied Krishna to the mortar.

Kali who destroys all enemies was the mace. The bow called Saranga was the illusion of the God. The harvest season of Sarad “bestows wisdom” became the meals in his house.

The lotus he held playfully was the seed for the world. Though the world was not different from all these, it appeared as if it was different. Similarly God himself did not have any differences. And the Vaikunta mastery of Vedanta, of those people who live in heaven was brought down to the world. The people who have understood this truly would get the result of their good deeds. They would get themselves released from the ties of the body and attain salvation.

 Om ! O Devas, may we hear with our ears what is auspicious; May we see with our eyes what is auspicious, O ye worthy of worship !

May we enjoy the term of life allotted by the Devas, Praising them with our body and limbs steady !

May the glorious Indra bless us ! May the all-knowing Sun bless us ! May Garuda, the thunderbolt for evil, bless us ! May Brihaspati grant us well-being !

Om ! Let there be Peace in me ! Let there be Peace in my environment ! Let there be Peace in the forces that act on me ! Here ends the Krishnopanishad, as contained in the Atharva-Veda.

[secret--star--system]

hello, welcome to our blog! i'm Midas, and I usually front. we only recently recognised ourselves as a system, so i co-created this blog with VM-15 to try and get to know everyone else / keep track of our experiences. this post was written by a few of us, so apologies to anyone else reading this as our grammar referring to one another may flick between subjective (he) and personal (I) regularly and without warning.

We're a quoigenic mesosian system, and currently have 7 or so frequent headmates/alters. Here's our pronouns.page!

so far, the following headmates have introduced themselves:

🧭Midas (he/they, 18) : I'm the main host, along with 15. The body is technically mine, and I am usually in control of it, even when the others front mentally. I'm gonna just say 'front' rather than 'co-front' from now on cause it's quicker.

👾 VM-15 [he/it, ageless] : I'm the robot that we frequently use as a persona for the whole system, rather than Midas, and I'm always co-con when he fronts. When another, secondary alter is also co-con/fronting, I'm usually there. I'm the one who realised we're a system, but we all agree that Midas has been here the longest. I have my own blog, too ( @humanity-lost ) which is where I post from, rather than here.

🚬 Guy /ɡi/ (he/him, 26) : relatively new and generally turns up when we feel neglected, at social events, or when whoever's fronting needs help recovering from / preventing a breakdown. he's also our suicide helpline, and helps us calm down when it gets really bad, as well as fronting with VM-15 when Midas is overwhelmed.

🇫🇷 --- (he/him, adult) : all we really know about him is that he speaks fluent french (we all speak french, but he's, like. fluent fluent.) and gets really pissed at the people who sit behind us in languages class. he hardly ever fronts, and when he has fronted it's been only for a few minutes.

🪩 Starboy (he/him, mid-20s) : The musically talented one, passionate about robot / A.I. rights. Like Midas but without the social anxiety, and i'm generally more 'in the moment' than he is. I wanted a blue shooting star emoji, but it doesn't exist :[

📀 GM08 & 💿 TB3 (he/him, ageless) : Fictive soulbound alters who function as a coping mechanism for a very specific traumatic event. They usually appear as their Human After All or RAM era forms*. Thomas listens to jazz when stressed or dissociating.

✨ M14 & 🌿 T14 (Matthieu and Timothée) : Littles belonging to the au versions of TB and GM. They rarely show up.

🌈 GM08 & 🩶 TB3 (he/him, ageless) : au versions of GM and TB, parents of M14 and T14. occasionally hang out with the other daftverse robots and 15, though never front.

Headmate types / relationships:

🧭 Midas : Core, host

👾 VM-15 : Host, gatekeeper, soulbound alter (former self-insert)

🚬 Guy : Protector, introject

🇫🇷 : Fragment

🪩 Starboy : Developed fragment

📀 GM08 & 💿 TB3** : Comfortgenic soulbound alters (universe of origin is difficult to explain), TB3 is the system's trauma holder.

✨ M14 & 🌿 T14 : Littles, walk-ins

🌈 GM08 & 🩶 TB3 : walk-ins, comfortgenic

15 or I'll add the others as they turn up, or they'll add themselves. :]

( note to selves: all.txt just means it was a few of us, not actually literally everyone - Midas )

*versions of them from aus or different eras occasionally pop in ; so far the most of their kind we've had at any one time is 6 ( haa era tb+gm, discovery-era tb+gm and their two children. )

** we totally vibe with doubles of these two! We know some people get uncomfortable around doubles of their kintype but we are totally ballin' ( if you're a daftverse robot please can we be friends aaa I love meeting more of you guys - 15 )

[catsnuggler]

I think it's funny how, genetics being what it is, I most likely have a body type similar to that of my ancestors, even though their cultures didn't pass on.

I wasn't taught Shakespeare at home, or in church; I was taught in English class at school, just like everybody was, because American colonial culture stems from English culture, but makes divergences of its own, and it pushes this reformed-away-from-Englishness culture onto all under its sway, whether or not they happen to like Shakespeare. Personally, I fucking love his work, but I don't think everybody should have been made to read him, even though I enjoyed it. Anyway, so Shakespeare was taught as part of English language, and naturally there were some cultural elements, but this wasn't taught to us as, like, Our English Heritage or something. It's just that he was influential to the English language, of which we speak a dialect, so we'd better learn it to speak the language properly. I wasn't raised to be English.

We happen to have a book of Robert Burns' poems at my house. That's just because my dad bought a set of Harvard Classics books on his mission. Scots happens to come to me pretty easily, but I won't make the claim that I can speak it. I think, given a difficult single page of Scots paragraphs, and *no time limit*, I could figure it out at least 70% without having to look up the words, but it would take me a while. Give me only 5 minutes, and that percentage would dramatically go down. It is closely related to English, and I've deciphered Burns' work with relative ease before, but that sure doesn't mean I know a language I never learned. Scottish Gaelic, of course, I dont know at all, even though it would have been likely that my Ulster Scots ancestors were sent to Ulster in the first place because they spoke a dialect of Scottish Gaelic which was more or less mutually inteligible with Irish Gaelic in Ulster at that point in time. I wasn't faught it, nobody in my family knows that language. My surname is Scottish, but my dad didn't even know that for much of his life; originally, he thought it was a German name.

We briefly practiced a few German cultural traditions in my childhood; but that's because my ex-stepmother is the daughter of a German immigrant, so she had grown up with some German cultural traditions which she passed on to her kids, who, themselves, are proud to practice those German cultural traditions, like advent calendars and putting out shoes for Santa Claud (or was it some other Saint?) to fill eith gifts. We stopped once the divorce was finalized, though. We never had German cultural traditions before that point, nor after, despite having some German ancestry, ourselves - though that's further back, and, again, those traditions weren't passed down.

What am I boiling all this down to? This: I've lived in a desert all my life since the age of 8, and I hated it for most of those years, because of a reason that is still true, even as my hate has gone: I cannot fucking take the heat. My body is really made for either rain-beaten England, cold Scotland, or the German woodlands, maybe the Alps. It is not made for the fucking desert. The desert is beautiful, it's wondrous, it deserves to be as it is - but I am not built for it, and I doubt I will ever be accustomed to it.

A man lacking a culture, but still built for places an entire continent away, not here. And the strange thing is that entire continent away is the land of his ancestors, not where he was born. Fucked up, innit?

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

1st June >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saint Justin, Martyr 

on

Saturday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time.

Saturday, Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the feria (Saturday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Jude 1:17,20-25 Use your most holy faith as your foundation.

Remember, my dear friends, what the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ told you to expect. You must use your most holy faith as your foundation and build on that, praying in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves within the love of God and wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to give you eternal life. When there are some who have doubts reassure them; when there are some to be saved from the fire, pull them out; but there are others to whom you must be kind with great caution, keeping your distance even from outside clothing which is contaminated by vice. Glory be to him who can keep you from falling and bring you safe to his glorious presence, innocent and happy. To God, the only God, who saves us through Jesus Christ our Lord, be the glory, majesty, authority and power, which he had before time began, now and for ever. Amen.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 62(63):2-6

R/ For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord, my God.

O God, you are my God, for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water.

R/ For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord, my God.

So I gaze on you in the sanctuary to see your strength and your glory. For your love is better than life, my lips will speak your praise.

R/ For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord, my God.

So I will bless you all my life, in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul shall be filled as with a banquet, my mouth shall praise you with joy.

R/ For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord, my God.

Gospel Acclamation 1 Peter 1:25

Alleluia, alleluia! The word of the Lord remains for ever: What is this word? It is the Good News that has been brought to you. Alleluia!

Or: cf. Colossians 3:16a,17

Alleluia, alleluia! Let the message of Christ, in all its richness, find a home with you; through him give thanks to God the Father. Alleluia!

Gospel Mark 11:27-33 I will not tell you my authority for acting like this.

Jesus and his disciples came to Jerusalem, and as Jesus was walking in the Temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to him, and they said to him, ‘What authority have you for acting like this? Or who gave you authority to do these things?’ Jesus said to them, ‘I will ask you a question, only one; answer me and I will tell you my authority for acting like this. John’s baptism: did it come from heaven, or from man? Answer me that.’ And they argued it out this way among themselves: ‘If we say from heaven, he will say, “Then why did you refuse to believe him?” But dare we say from man?’ – they had the people to fear, for everyone held that John was a real prophet. So their reply to Jesus was, ‘We do not know.’ And Jesus said to them, ‘Nor will I tell you my authority for acting like this.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

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

Saint Justin, Martyr 

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 1 Corinthians 1:18-25 We preach a crucified Christ, the power and wisdom of God.

The language of the cross may be illogical to those who are not on the way to salvation, but those of us who are on the way see it as God’s power to save. As scripture says: I shall destroy the wisdom of the wise and bring to nothing all the learning of the learned. Where are the philosophers now? Where are the scribes? Where are any of our thinkers today? Do you see now how God has shown up the foolishness of human wisdom? If it was God’s wisdom that human wisdom should not know God, it was because God wanted to save those who have faith through the foolishness of the message that we preach. And so, while the Jews demand miracles and the Greeks look for wisdom, here are we preaching a crucified Christ; to the Jews an obstacle that they cannot get over, to the pagans madness, but to those who have been called, whether they are Jews or Greeks, a Christ who is the power and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 33(34):2-9

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise always on my lips; in the Lord my soul shall make its boast. The humble shall hear and be glad.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Glorify the Lord with me. Together let us praise his name. I sought the Lord and he answered me; from all my terrors he set me free.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Look towards him and be radiant; let your faces not be abashed. This poor man called, the Lord heard him and rescued him from all his distress.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

The angel of the Lord is encamped around those who revere him, to rescue them. Taste and see that the Lord is good. He is happy who seeks refuge in him.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Gospel Acclamation Matthew 5:16

Alleluia, alleluia! Your light must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give the praise to your Father in heaven. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 5:13-19 Your light must shine in the sight of men.

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘You are the salt of the earth. But if salt becomes tasteless, what can make it salty again? It is good for nothing, and can only be thrown out to be trampled underfoot by men. ‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill-top cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp to put it under a tub; they put it on the lamp-stand where it shines for everyone in the house. In the same way your light must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give the praise to your Father in heaven. ‘Do not imagine that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets. I have come not to abolish but to complete them. I tell you solemnly, till heaven and earth disappear, not one dot, not one little stroke, shall disappear from the Law until its purpose is achieved. Therefore, the man who infringes even one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be considered the least in the kingdom of heaven; but the man who keeps them and teaches them will be considered great in the kingdom of heaven.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

[daviddshiki]

The Adventures of David Dashiki-Story of an African American Hero-Year of the Blackman 2024... Our Black Woman

We must canonize our own saints, create our own martyrs and elevate to positions of fame and honor Black Men and Women who have made their distinct contributions to our race history - Marcus Garvey

We have been stripped of culture, heritage, religion and language. We have been abandoned and left without models of conduct and behavior. We err frequently but, there is no malice in us. We are human in a land that has destroyed our roots and connections to a past rich in academics and discipline. We do know this. That we must change to survive. We must treat all Black men as our brothers. None should suffer savagery, brutality, fear and abuse by our hands. Certainly, if one brother is abused, we all must bear the pain and assist in the resolution of the issues in question. We must, from this day forward , unite with our brothers. We are one. We will always be one. America has taught us so. Our plan for freedom includes every Black Man on this planet.

We will never again speak negatively about a brother. We shall expect proper respect and decorum from all our brothers. Should a Black brother have a quarrel, it will be solved in an orderly and peaceful manner according to the teachings of our forefathers and the scriptures, writings and revelations of our heroes, parents and teachers. Our children will conduct themselves as youth of dignity, honor, worth and decorum. They will never disrespect an adult especially those in authority. This mandate applies particularly to our children when they are engaged in educational activities and pursuits. Should the matter not be solved to the satisfaction of the teacher, it will be taken to a higher ranking official. This will continue until the concern is corrected. We, as Black Men, have to handle affairs with adults with the utmost respect. They are the carriers of the culture and instructors in their education. Let me stand firm and speak on a matter of grave concern to me and should be unsettling to all of us. Garvey said that we must canonize our own saints There has been at times, incidences of poor discipline towards our Black female teachers. This is halted today. No woman who is struggling with the education of our young adults should ever feel unwanted, humiliated or frustrated in that effort, especially, when America has purposely permitted our children to act disrespectfully toward them without demanding excellence, adoration, esteem and courtesy to their teaching elders. This, we know is the plan of America for our children that they expect nothing of themselves and disrespect those who can teach them and provide direction. However, it is when the children attempt to assume the role as teacher is when we, The Real Black Men of America, draw a line in the sand. These are our queens. They endured the most inhumane acts of cruelty during slavery. They sacrificed, bled and died for us. They were left with no sense of self because they had to surrender it all to the slave master. Don't ever forget that. You are here because they gave their life, and body and soul that YOU might have better. They are to be treated as royalty for what they have endured in this land to save and educate all of us. You, students ,must read about the Great Sacrifices. These are not just women. They are saints. Never, and I mean, never disrespect them. To do so is to sin. What you must do, Black Youth, is to greet them wherever you meet them. Tell them they are beautiful .Tell they do not need long fingernails or store bought hair. We, the Black young folks, love you as you are. Those false so-called enhancements only enrich the kingdoms and coffers of others. You enrich our lives by being the Black Queen that you are.

Rosa Parks, Shirley Chisholm, Coretta Scott King, Fannie Lou Hamer, Marve Collins, Ida B. Wells, Bessie Coleman, Mary McLeod Bethune, Mary Eliza Mahoney, Mary Ellen Pleasant, Fannie Barrier, Edmonia Lewis, Mary Church Terrell, Barbara Jordan, Lorraine Hansberry, Amelia Boynton Robinson, Constance Baker Motley, Claudette Colvin, Barbara Smith, Tarana Burke, Ruby Bridges, Lyda Newman, Bell Hooks, Mae Jemison...The list of beauty, grace, intellect and courage is even longer. These Black Queens did not run from danger when it appeared. They stood valiantly and met it head on. There are women exactly like them in your home. in the hospital, in the classroom and in the church. Do not take them for granted. Honor them. They are our Queens. IF WE DO NOT HONOR THEM, NO ONE WILL. RESPECT OUR PEOPLE. WHEN WE HONOR THEM, GOD WILL BLESS THE WORK...AMEN!!!

BLACK QUEEN, SHINE ON !!!!!