#Prompt Edify

[promptedify]

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[notatzimisce]

I haven't played BG3 but are the characters actually textually bisexual, or are they, like, playersexual? Are any of them at all portrayed expressing this interest outside of you, or is it more DA2-esque "we don't want to lock the player out of dating anyone they want" being taken as "everyone is canon bi!!"?

[birdflashweek]

Apology From Mod Taxi

hey everyone! I’m just reaching out because I had it pointed out to me by people in a more appropriate way that becuaee of the connection to Joanne and her horrible things any reference to Harry Potter specifically makes them feel isolated from the event because references to even just the names of things from that content is fully associated with the horrible things she’s done and said. Because of this I’m removing the reference to Hogwarts and changing the prompt to “magic AU”. Obviously if you were writing something for the prompt that was a Harry Potter crossover you can do that. You can enjoy whatever you want but we want to make the event itself less uncomfortable/triggering because of the association between the writer and her work.

obviously I stand by my statements that the way that the person who commented about not having it in the prompt submission handled it inappropriately but if you feel like you want to voice an question/opinion on the moderation side to the mods you can do that via asks or in the discord. The prompt post here has been edified and updated but the reblogged ones might not be updated. Here is the new prompt sheet:

[steampunk-christians]

A Journey Through God’s Ways #04: Adventures in the Mind Haze

❤️ When I decided to start this journal back in early January, I named it Journal of a Hardened Christian because I was under the impression that returning to God after a decade-long spiritual drought would be a slow, agonizing process (…and because I can be a bit edgy, too). I thought I would have to wait months to feel even the slightest ounce of joy (if ever), and that the journey would be filled with sorrowful, pain-stricken entries. But God has proven me wrong. If anything, I found that the Prodigal Son story is the honest truth: your return won’t be met with patronizing anger, but with open arms. You will feel cherished, despite despite despite.

❤️ However, the experience has been quite odd, too. Since my spiritual drought began only two years after my conversion and lasted for such a long time, coming back has exposed me to a permanent sense of deja vu. It’s hard to explain, but I’m regaining a sense of familiarity with the trains of thought that can either bring you closer to the Lord or lead you off track—a constant sensation of "I have felt this before." And even though February was a joyful and somehow edifying month, some of these negative feelings were quite overwhelming. Ironically, many of them started in the place where I thought I could find my way back to God: tumblr (lol).

❤️ To begin with, I created this tumblr account to experience fellowship with other christians after being churchless my entire life. To this day, I haven’t experienced baptism, and I don’t know any christians in real life (well, I met one, but it got messy real fast lol). The experience has been quite wonderful, in a way only a previously excommunicated christian returning to the church could understand. If anything, it made me realize how reckless, arrogant, and irresponsible it was to simply assume I could afford to spend so much time away from my brothers and sisters in faith, embracing -by accident- the "solo christian" life. And even though I recognize that there were special circumstances making it difficult to find a church, I definitely should never have remained so comfortable in the obstacles: at the end of the day, the only obstacle was sin.

❤️ However, in my search for blogs to follow, I ended up finding some people who frequently talked about an issue that hits extremely close to home: homosexuality. In case anyone doesn’t know, I am a SIDE-B Christian, which means I struggle with same-sex attraction, but I have chosen not to ditch the term, contrary to the views of the other non-affirming sides (SIDE-Y and SIDE-X). It’s not the goal of this entry to dive deeper into these topics, but I do need to mention that I found some comments from people I consider probably well-intentioned, but somehow misguided or even slightly mean-spirited, that prompted my desire to engage in debate. That's why I ended up writing plenty of responses in my drafts, doing a lot of research, and getting ready to express my point of view—until I slowly started to realize a specific problem...

I wasn't as confident as I thought I was.

❤️ What do I mean by this? Well, to shout: "homosexuality is a sin!" and call it a day isn’t something us —the homosexuals!— can do as easily: "Wait, is it a sin if I was born with it?" / "Is it a sin if it developed during childhood?" / "Is it a sin if I don’t act on it?" / "Am I saved if I still feel same-sex attraction?" / "Am I saved if I don’t feel attraction to the opposite sex?" / "Am I a stumbling block if I use the term?" / "Am I a stumbling block if I claim conversion therapy worked?" / "Is my existence alone a stumbling block?" / It's annoying, right? Welp: these are just some of the many, many questions in the horrifying and often heartbreaking discourse surrounding homosexuality within the church. And it's crazy, but the mere act of typing these questions is enough to fill me with a numbed sense of dread. Because, at the end of the day, homosexuality is caught in a culture war, and the fact that it’s deemed a sin by the Bible seems to be treated as an open invitation to be cruel about it—gleefully assuming that being perceived as #based instead of kind will earn you more heavenly clout. So, who cares about the hurt, panicked, and probably traumatized homosexual individual if you get to fight a cartoonishly evil collective to save what —The West? I’m sorry, I was under the impression that the whole world is fallen, and ironically, due to the actions of a straight couple. However, I apologize if my bitter snark is somehow counterproductive to the heart of this entry, but this snark masks an even scarier reality: that there is not an universally agreed answer to any of the aforementioned questions, and when I’m not feeling wise in my own opinions, I am sad. I am scared. I want to die.

❤️ I won’t make the rant any longer: in the process of searching for information to discuss what I deemed misinformation, I ended up finding, well, more misinformation, so I got suddenly exposed to the opinions of many respected theologians, falling into the aforementioned rabbit hole of homosexuality discourse. That’s how I spent February 14th (how ironic, lol): reading podcast transcripts, blog articles, interviews, and testimonies—not to inform myself, but to calm myself, not to argue with anyone besides the incessant voice within my brain that is still sad, still scared, and still wants to die over what feels like a prison inside an impossible psychology. But nothing was working. I became so filled with fear, pain, and anger that I ended up deleting every single draft I had written in response to these tumblr posts because I realized the fight had always been against myself, and I somehow kept losing over and over. However, it wasn't until I read something so egregious in tone and implication that I realized I had to stop engaging with this content—not only because I was at risk of temporarily losing my sanity, but because I had suddenly become aware of an even darker situation: I was starting to mix the voice of these people with God's voice. I was subconsciously assuming that the way these people were talking was also the way God was seeing me. But if God had decided not to "heal" my homosexuality, why should I assume He loves me?

❤️ And you know what’s also interesting? If anything, this experience helped me remember something I never truly forgot, but somehow always ignored: this is what kickstarted my spiritual drought. I was engaging with content so triggering that I ended up creating a mental association between the matters of the Father and the feeling of pain. I remember I was uncapable of reading Romans, Corinthians, or Leviticus without getting increasingly anxious knowing I’d eventually come across those verses (if you're SIDE-B you know what I mean). This is why I no longer wanted to browse christian content or learn new things, and why I stopped writing emails to my pastor. I wanted answers, but I couldn’t find them without feeling exposed to these theological “bombs” with mortal implications regarding my salvation or identity. So, while it was never a conscious decision, I somehow figured out that my daily life would be easier if I ran to a small, lonely cabin of cozy, lukewarm Christian escapism. I never denied the gospel, but I was no longer trying to grow in my faith. And I apologize if the self-explanatory nature of this paragraph seems like excessive self-indulgence (it very well might be): I am fully aware that, at the end of the day, it was my own sin that caused this situation. But I want to explain the train of thought that sin itself used to make me crash against a wall.

❤️ However, back to the present, I was also confused: I am no longer a baby Christian! I should be able to accept that different opinions—ugh—exist. If anything, discourse should be easier now than it was back then, especially since I don’t remember terms like "SIDE-B" even existing in the early 2010s. And that's when Option 01 appeared in my mind: you must fight; you must learn to endure the pain and be ready to face it; this is your cross, and you must bear it. Don’t be afraid to be a part of the conversation. But the uneasiness was so constant that it eventually triggered the opposing possibility, which I’ll call Option 02: this is not a fight you can win right now; you're not ready for these discussions.

So what was the right choice, Option 01 or Option 02?

❤️ On February 17th, I didn’t read anything else because I was physically unable to. I was shaken, disturbed and annoyed, because I had actually been feeling a little bit of joy before all of this, and now it was all gone. "This is what God thinks of you" would repeat in my head over and over. And then something unexpected happened: I saw the thumbnail of a video from an unknown YouTuber recommended on my front page: "Holy Spirit message for you" was the title. Now, before I continue with the story, I need to address the elephant in the room: I’m not entirely sure clickbaity content like "The Holy Spirit wants to talk to you" should always be trusted. It’s not the kind of content Ibconsume, and I do think there are cases where it should be avoided, so please don’t interpret this as a personal endorsement of it (I mean, at the same time, I do believe it wouldn’t be fair to label every YouTuber who makes such content as untrustworthy—some of them might be trying to bear fruit in a rather unconventional way, guided by the gift of encouragement). Still, I decided to give it a shot— you know, watch it for funsies, and if something felt off, I’d disregard it and analyze the message without focusing on the messenger. And what can I say? The content was generic to the point anyone could apply it to their own life, and delivered with a calm demeanor that didn’t try to provoke emotion to manipulate the viewer into a specific conclusion, while also seeming biblically sound, if not fairly obvious. And somehow, it was exactly what I needed to hear: take everything step by step. For some reason, this seemed to suggest that I should choose Option 02. But not wanting to fully trust the YouTuber (I feel bad saying that, but you know what I mean), I simply said: "God, if Option 02 is the right one, please give me a sign. I don’t know what to think anymore."

And that’s when things got more... interesting.

❤️ Something I hadn’t commented on is that February 17th was also sad for a secular reason: my mom and I both decided we needed to spend the last pennies of our savings if we wanted to afford groceries and food for the rest of the month. This decision came after two years of bleeding our savings to survive what was considered—at some point—the worst economic crisis in the world (argentina's inflation was 211% in 2023, and 120% in 2024). So, it was quite a sad day, since from then on, we’d be completely helpless against any type of emergency or personal crisis, and no family member could help us because they were all in similar situations. I remember being on a bus downtown to spend the money and, suddenly, for no apparent reason, I started daydreaming about what life could be like if I were a pastor. It was random, but I began to imagine the town I’d like to live in, how the church could look, the type of sermons I’d preach, the type of community I’d want to be around, and the type of man I believe I could become. And you know what’s crazy? I felt a type of calmness that wasn’t rare enough to feel miraculous, but rare enough for me to...not have any recollection of a similar sensation. If anything, it was a calmness that had no awareness of itself: it’s not like the panic of my spiritual crisis or the sadness of the economic issue were slowly vanishing into bliss; nope, in the context of my mindscape, both issues never even existed to begin with. It wasn’t until I arrived at my destination and the daydream ended that I remembered I had been feeling distressed.

❤️ And I mean, I’m always daydreaming (I fit the criteria for maladaptive daydreaming), but this was unlike those other daydreams because: 01) I don’t have the memory of ever wanting to become a pastor; it’s not an idea I’ve ever entertained or felt any type of inclination toward (I mean, I’ve been churchless my whole life, so I don’t even know how the bureaucracy behind becoming a pastor works) so I am not fully sure where it came from, and why it felt so blissful. And 02) the daydream wasn’t driven by a conscious, personal narrative from my own history. For example, I’ve daydreamed about becoming a missionary in a war-torn country, but I’m self-aware enough to realize that such a daydream stems from the vanity of believing that an act of macho bravado could somehow over-compensate for the feeling of smallness after being lukewarm for a whole decade. It’s a daydream that speaks more to what my ego wants me to be than an actual desire to serve the Lord—a daydream in which I am the one who gets the glory. This was different: this was accompanied by an utter calmness, and now I wonder, from which hidden place of my mind did it come? It’s somehow special, because I’ve always struggled with aligning my will to the Lord’s, but in the mindscape, it was not the case. And then I simply assumed this was the sign I had asked, and that Option 02 was the correct one.

❤️And you know what’s crazy? I am not saying I received a calling. Right now, as I write this, I still don’t have the desire to become a pastor, even if I don’t necessarily hate or oppose the idea (I must admit that it sounds like one of those unlikely scenarios God seems to like a lot: the solo Side-B Christian becoming a pastor—what?). However, what I cherish from this experience is something different: a sudden awareness of what I must do, as if God were telling me: "don’t focus on yourself, don’t focus on your feelings, don’t focus on your sin, don’t focus on what the other Christians might think. I love them, but they’re not ME: you have to focus on ME: I lost you once, i'm not losing you again."

❤️ And coming back to the Prodigal Son story: when you come back to your Father’s house, the fact that you’re being celebrated, cherished, and loved doesn’t mean you’re instantly healed from the spiritual trauma of being far from the Father's embrace for so long. My analogy is an ashamed son who goes back to his Father’s house and immediately says, "I will help you fix this door, and I will also fight this enemy, and I will also travel to this land, and I will be cleaning the kitchen, and I will be hosting a meeting" when the son is still hurt and beaten and malnourished, so the Father says: "I want you to spend time with me, nothing more." It’s crazy, but I think we often forget that the matters of the Lord aren’t the Lord, that God is still a Being with feelings and a longing for sociability, and that obsessing over theology or denominations hides a deceptive productivity if it makes you ignore your Father's wishes for fellowship. And don’t get me wrong: I think discussing theology is beautiful and necessary; maybe someday I will become the person who can do it without feeling hurt or scared, but at the moment, I’d rather take one day at a time.

❤️ I would like to finish with a little story from Boss, the person who used to be my "personal pastor." In the early weeks of my conversion, I was obsessed with the concept of "once saved, always saved," and I remember being frustrated that some Christians on online forums didn’t accept it. But he told me I shouldn’t argue with them, and when I asked him why, he simply said, "because they will make you doubt." It’s funny—it took me so long to realize the wisdom in those words. Engaging in theological discussions is something both baby Christians and spiritually hurt Christians need to approach with extreme caution, and perhaps it’s not a gift given to all of us. And while it does saddens me that I still act like a baby Christian, I don’t want my ego to force spiritual growth out of thin air. Maybe the timing is not mine to control, and that’s for the best.

❤️ And remember how I said I was facing intense economic struggle? Well, the next day, I received an unexpected blessing that miraculously solved absolutely all my concerns and elevated the quality of my life to a point I hadn’t considered possible. I’m not sharing this to suggest that I must be right in my interpretation of what God wants me to think or do. I simply want to express that this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever said, “Lord, this is more than what I prayed for.” So, I just want to cherish this moment and put the focus on restoring the joy of fellowship with our Creator. What do you talk about with a Father you haven’t spoken to in 10 years? Well, the only way to know is by talking to Him!

[godslove]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲

The spiritual gift of prophecy is an extraordinary and unique gift. Paul says:

¹ “Make love your aim, but strive earnestly after the spiritual gifts, especially for that of prophecy.”

—1 Corinthians 14:1, Seek the Gifts That Build Up the Community

The Greek word for the gift of prophecy is propheteia which is the ability to receive a divinely inspired message and deliver it to others in the church. These messages can take the form of exhortation, correction, disclosure of secret sins, prediction of future events, comfort, inspiration, or other revelations given to equip and edify the body of Christ.

³ “On the other hand, the one who prophesies speaks to men for their building up, their encouragement, and their consolation. ⁴ Whoever speaks in a tongue builds himself up, but whoever prophesies builds up the Church.”

—1 Corinthians 14:3-4

This gift is a blessing to the church and should not be quenched or despised.

²⁰ “Do not despise prophecies.”

—1 Thessalonians 5:20

In the New Testament the Apostles, not the prophets, took over the role of Scriptural proclamation from the Old Testament Prophets.

Those who have the gift of prophecy differ from the Old Testament Prophets who spoke the authoritative Word of God directly. Their words were recorded as Scripture as they proclaimed, “Thus says The Lord,” whereas the messages from those with the spiritual gift of prophecy must be tested.

²⁹ “As for the prophets, let two or three speak, and let the rest weigh their words. ³⁰ Should a revelation be made to someone else who is sitting there, let the one who is speaking stop. ³¹ You can all prophesy, but one at a time, so that all may receive instruction and encouragement. ³² Indeed, the spirits of the prophets are subject to their prophets’ control, ³³ for God is not a God of disorder but of peace. As in all the Churches of the saints,”

—1 Corinthians 14:29-33

¹ Beloved, do not trust every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God. For many false prophets have gone out into the world. ² This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, ³ and every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the Antichrist, about whose coming you have been told, and that it is already in the world.

—1 John 4:1-3, The Spirit of the Antichrist in the World

Again, the prophecies do not constitute the authoritative Word of God, but are the human interpretation of the revelation that was received. They are spoken in human words through a human mind which is why they must be tested against the Scriptures.

²⁰ Do not despise prophecies. ²¹ Test everything, and hold fast to what is good.

—1 Thessalonians 5:20-21

The Holy Spirit gives the gift of prophecy to some believers to make God’s heart known and to edify the church. This gift is for the benefit of both believers and unbelievers and is a sign that God is truly among His church.

²⁴ However, if everyone is prophesying and an unbeliever or uninstructed person should enter, he would be reproved by all and judged by all, ²⁵ and the secrets of his heart would be revealed. Then he would fall down and worship God, declaring, “God is truly in your midst.”

—1 Corinthians 14:24-25

Those with this gift are sensitive to both the prompting of the Holy Spirit and the needs of the church body. They should be humble and continually study the Scriptures in order to test these revelations before speaking them. When they do speak, they should allow and even expect others to weigh what is said against the Scriptures and interpret the message accordingly. In this way the church may be continually built up together in unity.

⁴ “Whoever speaks in a tongue builds himself up, but whoever prophesies builds up the Church.”

—1 Corinthians 14:4

²² Clearly, then, tongues are intended as a sign not for believers but for unbelievers, while prophecy is designed not for unbelievers but for believers. ²³ Therefore, if the whole Church has assembled and everyone is speaking in tongues, would not any uninstructed person or any unbeliever on entering conclude that you are all out of your minds? ²⁴ However, if everyone is prophesying and an unbeliever or uninstructed person should enter, he would be reproved by all and judged by all, ²⁵ and the secrets of his heart would be revealed. Then he would fall down and worship God, declaring, “God is truly in your midst.”

²⁶ “And so, what then should be done, brethren? When you assemble, each of you should bring a psalm or some lesson or a revelation, or speak in a tongue, or offer an interpretation. Everything should be done with the goal in mind of building up.”

—1 Corinthians 14:22-26

⁶ “We all have different gifts according to the grace given to us. If it is a gift of prophecy, we should exercise it in proportion to our faith.”

—Romans 12:6

¹⁰ “To one, is granted the gift of mighty deeds; to another, the gift of prophecy; and to yet another, the gift to discern spirits. One receives the gift of tongues and another the ability to interpret them.”

—1 Corinthians 12:10

¹ “Make love your aim, but strive earnestly after the spiritual gifts, especially for that of prophecy. ² If anyone speaks in tongues, he is speaking not to men but to God, and no one understands him, for he is speaking mysteries in the Spirit. ³ On the other hand, the one who prophesies speaks to men for their building up, their encouragement, and their consolation. ⁴ Whoever speaks in a tongue builds himself up, but whoever prophesies builds up the Church. ⁵ I wish that all of you could speak in tongues, but I would much prefer that you could prophesy. For the one who prophesies is greater than the one who speaks in tongues, unless the latter can interpret what he is saying so that the Church may be built up.”

—1 Corinthians 14:1-5, Seek the Gifts That Build Up the Community

¹¹ “It was he who established some as apostles, some as prophets, some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, ¹² to equip the saints for the work of ministry in building up the body of Christ,”

—Ephesians 4:11-12

¹⁰ “Like good stewards of the varied graces of God, use whatever gift each one of you has received to serve one another. ¹¹ Whoever speaks should do so as one who is speaking the very words of God. Whoever serves should do so with the strength that God provides. In all things, let God be glorified through Jesus Christ, for to him belong all glory and power forever and ever. Amen.”

—1 Peter 4:10-11

[steveezekiel]

CONSTANT OBEDIENCE

9 AND Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, scoffing.

10 THEREFORE SHE SAID TO ABRAHAM, “CAST OUT THIS BONDWOMAN AND HER SON; FOR THE SON OF THIS BONDWOMAN SHALL NOT BE HEIR WITH MY SON, NAMELY WITH ISAAC.”

11 AND THE MATTER WAS VERY DISPLEASING IN ABRAHAM'S SIGHT BECAUSE OF HIS SON.

12 BUT GOD SAID TO ABRAHAM, “DO NOT LET IT BE DISPLEASING in your SIGHT BECAUSE OF THE LAD OR BECAUSE OF YOUR BONDWOMAN. WHATEVER SARAH HAS SAID TO YOU, LISTEN TO HER VOICE; FOR IN ISAAC YOUR SEED SHALL BE CALLED.

13 YET I WILL ALSO MAKE A NATION OF THE SON OF THE BONDWOMAN, BECAUSE HE IS YOUR SEED.”

14 SO ABRAHAM ROSE EARLY IN THE MORNING, and took bread and a skin of water; and putting it on her shoulder, he gave it and the boy to Hagar, AND SENT HER AWAY. Then she departed and wandered in the Wilderness of Beersheba."

Genesis 21:9-14 (NKJV)

One thing that should be noticed in Abraham's walk and relationship with God is his constant obedience. Even when what God instructed him to do is displeasing, he will still obey (Genesis 21:14)

What transpired between Abraham and Sarah, when Sarah demanded that Hagar, the bondwoman, and her son should be sent away. That Ishmael, Hagar's son, would not be heir with Isaac, Sarah's son (Genesis 21:10).

What Sarah asked or demanded for was displeasing to Abraham, but he did obey God anyway (Genesis 21:11,12,14).

Obedience is a major key in a believer's walk with God. We could see various instances where God had instructed Abraham to do one thing or another and he obeyed.

a. When God told him to leave his father's house for a land which He would show him, he obeyed (Genesis 12:1,4; Hebrews 11:8).

b. When God told him about establishing a covenant with him, and that, the sign of the covenant is the circumcision of the foreskin of every male in his family, he obeyed promptly (Genesis 17:11).

c. Abraham also obeyed when he was asked and instructed by God to release or let Hagar and her son go (Genesis 21:12,13).

d. When he, Abraham, was being tested by God to offer his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice on the altar, he also obeyed (Genesis 22:1-3).

Note: If a believer would have a solidified relationship with God, a covenant based one, obedience is the major key or an important element to get it done.

The depth of your communion and covenant with God is determined by your prompt obedience in every instruction given to you.

Those who are considered to be walking with God are the people or believers who live their life in obedience to his words. If your relationship with God would be cordial, obedience to His instructions, whether pleasing or not, convenient or not, is a major factor.

Someone might not be a Bible scholar, that is, the person might not all that be versed or skilled or proficient in the Bible, but if he or she is of childlike faith in obeying and trusting God's judgement on every issue or matter of life; he or she would be endeared to God's heart.

Another thing that is worthy of being noted in the passage, the text of this teaching, is, God promises to bless Ishmael also, the son of the bondwoman, and make a nation of him, because he is Abraham's seed (Genesis 21:13).

It means whatever is of Abraham would receive God's favour and blessing, because of the covenant God had established with him. Abraham was already told that all the families of the earth would be blessed through or via him (Genesis 12:3).

As a believer in Christ Jesus, you also can build your relationship with God to a covenant-establishing level—a level where you become God's friend and confidant: "YOU ARE MY FRIENDS IF YOU DO WHATEVER I COMMAND YOU" (John 15:14 NKJV).

"AND the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “ABRAHAM BELIEVED GOD, AND IT WAS ACCOUNTED TO HIM FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS.” AND HE WAS CALLED THE FRIEND OF GOD."

James 2:23 (NKJV)

READ: Isaiah 41:8

Peace.

Note:

a. I want you to follow us for more edifying content.

b. Endeavour to share this message. God bless you.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

YOTP - July

Ah, I've forgotten to finish and upload this. Forgive me!

Pairing: Curumo x Aiwendil

Prompts: Vacation together, Power Swap, Enemies to Lovers, “Batman won’t like this”, Stars, Coffeeshop AU

Words: 2 015

Warnings: Hostility, a lost wallet, 1 bed trope, Aquarium, a kiss

Aiwendil pursed his lips but didn’t object when the rooms were assigned.

Curumo looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon, which was not exactly edifying either.

“All right?” Mairon asked impatiently.

“All right,” Aiwendil muttered. What else was he to say? He couldn’t very well tell his imperious top manager that he was afraid that Curumo might be unhappy.

Since he’d started working at the little, cosy coffee shop, he’d constantly found himself at odds with the tall, imperious, heart-wrenchingly alluring junior manager of the establishment.

At first, the tension had been distinctly hostile, and Aiwendil had suffered profoundly under the devastating certainty that he was loathed by his handsome superior when he’d done nothing to deserve such instant dislike as far as he recalled.

“We should go—I want to freshen up,” Curumo hissed without looking over and strode away.

Aiwendil followed him wordlessly, trying hard not to think of that hazy night of the last company Christmas party. Someone had spiked the punch, and they’d ended up making out frantically in the establishment’s impeccably clean backroom.

It had been an unexpected, cataclysmic event, and—to his knowledge—nobody else was aware of what had transpired.

Unfortunately, at least from Aiwendil’s perspective, such a thing had then never happened again.

On the contrary, from that incident onward, Curumo seemed to despise him even more; he could barely look at his young colleague without his thin-lipped mouth curling into a cruel, disgusted line.

They were, of course, much too professional to let the fraught enmity between them have any negative repercussions on the shop, and thus, the little business had known record figures this year around.

It had been generous of Melkor, the owner, to invite all his employees to a trip to the seaside during their obligatory off-season, and Aiwendil was far from ungrateful, but he now wished that he’d declined the offer, nevertheless.

Probably, it had all been a subterfuge to get Mairon, who managed most of the day-to-day affairs for Melkor, alone while wearing a skimpy bathing suit.

A sharp sting of envy shot through Aiwendil’s heart at the realisation that others fared much better with their workplace romances, and he vowed that he’d at least try to clear the air before he spent a whole weekend sharing a room with someone who seemed to hate him.

“Which bed do you want?” Curumo asked as he pushed open the plywood door, only to freeze mid-movement with a small but deep groan. “Never mind!”

Perplexed by this sudden change of stance, Aiwendil poked his head into the room and suppressed a low exclamation of distress of his own.

The point was moot because there was but one huge bed, looming like a pool of quicksand in the middle of the cosy room.

“Ah,” Aiwendil said indecisively because he felt that he needed to say something.

His intense desire to melt into the worn carpet, never to be seen again, remained mercilessly unfulfilled, though.

No matter how often or frantically he blinked, his unfortunate situation—condemned to spend his holiday perched up with someone he’d neither call an enemy, a friend, nor a lover confidently—didn’t change.

“This will absolutely not do,” Curumo grunted, his face ablush with righteous anger.

Aiwendil’s heart sank; he’d never considered the other a rival or even a foe, despite his outright inimical behaviour, and he’d secretly hoped that their inebriated folly would eventually have a positive impact on their strained relationship.

How bitterly disappointed he’d been in that regard. He hoped that it wasn’t too late to change that.

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically as if he’d purposefully booked the room they’d been assigned randomly. “Maybe we can swap with someone else?”

At that, Curumo frowned. “I highly doubt that any of the others would be any more comfortable sharing a bed than us.”

His eyebrow quirked expressively, telling Aiwendil that he’d not forgotten about his fall from grace either.

For a long moment, the only thing in the room was awkward tension and the wheezing of the old air conditioning.

“Maybe we should rejoin the others?” Aiwendil then said dejectedly—as much as he’d hoped that this little get-away would be the perfect opportunity to mend fences with Curumo, he wasn’t the kind of man who willingly, consciously imposed his prolonged presence on someone to whom it was visibly loathsome.

Unfortunately, their streak of bad luck didn’t end there.

When they’d made their way back to the lobby, having been delayed by an uncoordinated, fat woman trying to get all her suitcases out of the lift before the doors could close, their party had already left.

The snooty young man behind the reception desk wordlessly shoved over a glossy flyer, advertising a marine biology museum.

Curumo’s eyes lit up—he’d once dated a half-mad surfer who’d liked to wax poetic about various sea creatures. After the seemingly countless hours he’d listened to Aiwendil talk about local and exotic critters, he felt that it was only fair that he’d for once be the one to bore the other to tears with utterly irrelevant factoids.

“The next bus comes in 5 minutes,” the receptionist informed them before turning to the very same rotund lady from before who was now in tears because her AC unit was not working properly.

“Oh, that sounds fun…If you want to go, I mean,” Aiwendil muttered miserably, picking up random brochures and stuffing them into his very unattractive fanny pack haphazardly.

“Do you think I want to spend the day alone with you?” Curumo hissed. “Let’s go!”

To his surprise, his unwelcome companion’s choices had been much less random than he’d originally thought. As a matter of fact, Aiwendil was able to locate the bus stop and work out a shortcut that might get them to the museum in time to rejoin their group.

Uncomfortable and embarrassed, Curumo launched into a long diatribe about the sexual habits of dolphins—it soon turned out that Aiwendil was a much more gracious listener than his cranky colleague had ever been.

That much could have been predicted, but Curumo found himself nevertheless bemused by the evident swap in roles and powers.

Usually, it was Aiwendil who was chattering away while he tried to keep things running smoothly. He was also astounded by how relaxing it was to, for once, let someone else worry about the applicable minutia and rules while he could simply prattle on and on with gusto.

“No! Really?” Aiwendil exclaimed, proving that he’d been listening carefully, as they got out of the last bus. It had been an unbearably hot and uncomfortable ride, but Curumo almost regretted its inevitable end.

He even grimaced when he saw his bosses and colleagues standing around aimlessly in front of the wide-open glass doors.

“Melkor lost his wallet—again!” Mairon snorted. Their manager wore his white linen suit with the enviable elegance of a black widow squandering her inheritance at the French Riviera, and his designer eyewear flashed in the merciless sun as their chaotic boss crawled on his hands and knees under benches.

“I had it when we left,” Melkor swore and narrowed his eyes at his employees in a silent bid for assistance.

“At once,” Aiwendil exclaimed and dropped to his own knees readily.

Curumo watched him scurry this way and that, and—behind his own sober sunglasses—he shamelessly ventured a few lingering looks at his colleague’s small, firm behind poking out from behind a massive flowerpot.

Finally, when the renegade wallet had been located and retrieved, they all shuffled into the blue penumbra of the museum obediently—it was uncomfortably hot and muggy inside, and people soon split up into smaller groups so as to not overcrowd the displays.

When Aiwendil looked up from an explanatory plaquette about the conservation efforts made by the local government he’d been perusing with earnest interest, he was startled to discover that Curumo was still hovering at his side, evidently patiently waiting for him to finish.

“Would you like to go see the tunnel?” he asked sheepishly. From where he stood, he’d seen his colleagues rush through the hallway that cut right through one of the bigger aquariums, and he’d been irrationally dismayed by their lack of patience and admiration for their unique surroundings.

“The glass is solid, right?” Aiwendil mumbled. “I’m not a superb swimmer.”

“If it should collapse, swimming would be least of your worries,” Curumo assured him in what he only realised had been more of a threat than a kindness when Aiwendil’s eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Nonsense, the glass is perfectly safe. Come!”

Since that night when Curumo’s thin, firm lips had driven him half to distraction, Aiwendil had never received another invitation of any kind, so he was not about to forego this one. He lurched into motion.

Standing in the flickering darkness, he felt his heartbeat quicken and his cheeks warm up as he listened to Curumo explain the different species that were gliding past them with majestic equanimity.

Aiwendil was a creature made for verdant forests and muddy ground, so—between the ever-shifting hues of dark blue and sea green and Curumo’s intense gaze—he felt as if he was floating through a foreign, not entirely soothing world.

“Oh, look at that school!” Curumo suddenly exclaimed softly, his long finger pointing at a silvery cloud of tiny fish.

“They look like stars,” Aiwendil mumbled, awe-struck, and then immediately ducked his head in anticipation of the harsh reprimand for having spoken such a silly, unnecessary observation.

“They rather do, yes,” Curumo mused.

“Is that a ray?” Aiwendil asked breathlessly to distract himself from the surge of unbidden, yet indomitable hope.

“So it is,” Curumo whispered. He was mesmerised by the way the light, reflecting off the innumerable bellies of passing fishes, danced upon Aiwendil’s gently smiling face. Why did he always have to look so enviably happy?

For months, Curumo had more or less consciously tried to dim that fierce light of compelling optimism and pure joy lest it break down all his walls and overcome his cautious reservations.

Standing here felt oddly intimate—he was used to seeing Aiwendil under the bright, flickering lights of the coffee shop, his hair tied back and his best customer service smile plastered across his cute face, but this dreamy, undeniably private smile inevitably awakened something dark and dangerous in the depths of Curumo’s heart and soul.

He leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Batman, I mean Sea Batman, won’t like this,” Melkor hooted from behind a corner and was promptly shushed by Mairon who dragged him away to look at a fearsome octopus instead.

“Sea Batman,” Aiwendil chuckled nervously, his eyes darting to and fro between Curumo’s intense expression and the majestic ray hovering above them like a living parasol.

“Don’t listen to him,” Curumo laughed. “We’re on holiday—he’s not our boss right now.”

“He’s always our boss,” Aiwendil started to protest but his display of unconditional loyalty to his place of work and his superiors was silenced by the brush of blessedly cool lips against his own.

The featherlight touch was silken and smooth, just as Aiwendil imagined the sleek bodies floating around them to feel under his twitching fingers.

The oppressive, damp heat of the tunnel seemed to grow inexorably, but that long-awaited kiss nevertheless felt like a soothing caress of cool water and fresh air against Aiwendil’s burning skin.

As from far away, they heard their colleagues declare that they’d seen enough.

“Let them go,” Curumo murmured. “They won’t miss us. We’ll find our own way.”

The thought of having dinner alone with his most cherished foe made the tall man grin sharply. “You’ve proven that you can steer us safely through the city, haven’t you?”

At one, Aiwendil nodded proudly.

They waited for another 5 minutes, giggling and kissing like schoolboys under the motionless, expressionless gaze of thousands of aquatic spectators before they left, breathing in the clean, cool night air greedily.

“Let’s not switch rooms,” Curumo laughed, took Aiwendil’s arm, and started walking towards the city centre.

Thank you for reading and sorry for the delay!

-> Masterlist

[rose-vybe]

Fleur-de-lys for @starsmadeinheaven based on yet another prompt. Two more left ;)))

"So?? This should bring me good luck?"

"Mais oui! C'est une porte-bonheur!"

Arthur looked up at him for a second, then rolled his eyes. The brass fleur-de-lys medallion was still laced between his fingers as he sighed. Head bowed, shoulders slumped, and he hadn't even been defeated yet.

"I got it quite painstakingly, I'll have you know! The spell was-.... I'm not even a sorcerer!"

That was true. Francis was no sorcerer, he was a mere weapon, not very performative and annoying on top of that.

'You must fight under my banner!' he had emphatically declared upon becoming edified what this thing was about, and Arthur had concluded it had been an utter waste keeping himself sober for the summoning.

A french rapier.

Seriously, no wonder he'd been utterly ridiculed by nearly all other wielders. Well, minus the two other sorcerers, but still this was no match for Lukas's formidable Viking battle axe Mathias Kohler. Valentin had not been so lucky, having acquired a Turkic-Bulgar sword, slightly curved and awkward, but making up in brutality what he lacked in strength and skill.

Francis however was neither strong nor brutal; he only had a sharp tip and an overly elegant wrought-iron handle Arthur constantly felt coiling around his hand in an encroaching fashion.

Their first and only match so far had been an utter disaster.

Truth be told, they'd been unprepared and above all both had failed to recognize how badly out of tune they were with each other as a wielder-weapon team; and then they'd had absolutely rotten luck to be pitched against the most powerful team of all - Lovino and Antonio were both weapons and wielders and they were flexible enough to *switch* during a fight, effectively throwing their opponents off the tracks.

As such, first Lovino had toyed with them and then the Spaniard had all but pounded them into the ground. With a halberd.

But jolly good he had a fleur-de-lys talisman now to make up for all they were lacking.

"Is this on your coat of arms?" he inquired flatly.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm NOT wearing your coat of arms! I thought we already had this conversation!"

"But we need a coat of arms to go to battle under, and you don't have any! You're not even a knight-"

"Francis, we suck! And no one else is a knight either! The age of knights is long gone, what we need is-"

The Frenchman sighed dramatically, flipping his blondle curls backwards, and waived his hand in dismissal.

What he needed was another weapon. Someone both more compatible and pliant.

"Put it on!" Francis told him eventually, ordered more like.

"I will not-"

Arthur swallowed the rest of the phrase, shoved against the wall, wind knocked out of him as the odious French weapon practically wrestled him into wearing the enchanted necklace.

"Bon! On to the practice hall," Francis declared. "I will no longer be humiliated! You and I will claim the greatest victory, etc, etc."

He went on blabbering on the same note, dragging the other's hand down the dark, torch-lit corridor towards the Great Hall or Arms.

Arthur was doomed.

[merinsedai]

for the @dreamlingbingo

Square/Prompt: C1- Civil War

Title:

Rating: G

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: enjoyment of period dramas, look Rufus Sewell is a fine looking man and I can't be convinced otherwise.

Hob and Dream are watching The Power and the Passion (lucky them, wish I was)

“I didn’t think they’d do it, y’know?” Hob says, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms across his chest.

Dream, feet tucked up and chin resting upon his bent knees, turns his attention momentarily away from the screen to give Hob an inquiring look. 

“Chop his dad’s head off,” Hob elaborated, nodding at the TV where an episode of an early 2000s miniseries is currently playing. It is about King Charles II- The Power and the Passion- and they’re watching it partly because Dream has displayed an unreasonable interest in and enjoyment of period dramas, but mainly because- well: Rufus Sewell.  “King Charles I, I mean,” Hob adds, as if Dream could not have guessed who he was talking about.

“I don’t believe he thought they would, either,” Dream says, turning his eyes back to the TV where the powerful king Charles seems to be enjoying a moment of passion with his mistress. The series wasn’t particularly edifying (especially to someone who lived through the era) but it was accurately named and quite fun at least. “He was a strong dreamer. I remember him well. Those who have strong convictions in the Waking often carry it over into the Dreaming; and Charles help full conviction in his indisputable right to rule; his diving right.”

“Bloody hell, I bet old Cromwell had a strong Dreaming presence then,” Hob chuckles, thinking of the dour and resolute leader of the Parliamentarians.

Dream considers this, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Yes,” he agrees eventually. “But his dreams were often tortured. Conflicted. His faith her never wavering but his part in executing the king was a source of struggle for him.” Dream paused for a second. “I realise I have never asked: were you a Parliamentarian, Hob?”

“Nah, loyalist through an’ through, me,” Hob says seriously, then grins at Dream’s expressively raised eyebrow. His friend could say a lot with an eyebrow. “Look, His Majesty’s men picked me up first, is all. A warm meal and a place to sleep? Crikey, I would have been anyone’s. Not like I cared much for the machinations of the elite at that time, or the finer points of the divine right of kings  verus parliament wanting its say an’ all that. It was all much of a muchness when you’re starving.” He hums thoughtfully the gestures back to the screen. “That Charlie though, the country was glad to see him back, I think. I saw his coronation procession, y’know? I had fallen into a bit of work at that time, even had a roof over my head! It felt hopeful, even to me. Didn’t last of course,” he says equably, “but for a moment, things looked brighter: I saw a king return and,.. I still believed in kings then.”

“And what was your impression of him?” Dream asks quietly, face still turned to the screen but attention all on Hob. “Of Charles?”

“Well, he was no Rufus Sewell, that’s for sure, but he certainly knew how to have fun.”

[zorilleerrant]

Convergent Histories

a @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

Jenny feels in place, mostly, enough that she forgets, sometimes, with maybe days or even weeks until something stuns her still when she tries to piece apart what it is, what it means, what it means for her. It’s not hard. It looks like home, for the most part, sounds like home, smells like home when the fog hits and there’s barely room to see. Even the big differences are so ubiquitous she’s used to them, and forgets.

But then she’ll mention offhand a book they had to read in school, something so central to the canon no one hasn’t heard of it, and there they are. Blank looks all around. Maybe it exists here, some version of it, by some different title with half the words stripped, under an author with a name that isn’t quite right. It’s never anything at all like what she remembers.

What do they read here? She asks, and they give her lists, give her stacks of library copies, or folders full of text files, or their own precious books as they tell her be careful, it’s my favorite. And that feels similar enough, the structure and cadence not unfamiliar, the characters textured and real, the worlds wonderful and horrible and mesmerizing. The weight of them is the same in her hands, the smell of them, the edges rough or smooth against her fingers. The words blur the same as she grows tired, the tablet lands the same on her pillow as she drifts off to sleep. The stories are stories, still.

But the names are so many men she never knew and may never have had reason to. There are familiar landmarks – wars, disasters, inventions, fads – and the topics trend toward the same preoccupations, but the people are never the same ones. Even the same plays have different players, different faces, different costumes. The same myths have a different outcome, moral, name. The fonts are the same but the pictures are different, portraits rendered in a different hand. No one with her name, here. There are Jennys galore but not a single Jenivere, not a single Marstotter in the city that’s supposed to be her own for her to turn to and say, no, no, she’s the other Jenny, the tall one. The soprano. The one who can’t fly.

And she can see, in the books, the same lessons. This one teaches where to use a simile and where a metaphor, that one teaches symbolism through repetition. This one has characters with such depth you feel like you’ve met someone almost the same, and that one uses archetypes to develop a plot so intricate you try to solve it right along with everyone else. This one is famous, historical, that one is pop culture, relatable, intriguing to a bored class full of teenagers who would rather be skipping rocks.

But why, in this world that loves wolves so much that they have them on every corner, where Jenny can’t walk two blocks without being offered the opportunity to say hello to one, do they have so many books where they die? Why is there a whole category called a dead dog book that’s supposed to be so edifying kids are reading them regularly in class? There wasn’t anything like that back home, where someone tailored something just for kids to see their beloved becha slain right in front of them. But you can’t ask. Jenny’s tried.

There are questions people think are funny. What is this food made of, and why does that music sound like that. People love explaining their culture and their history and their family and all the little details that make the place make sense to them. They don’t love politics – or, at least, the people who do love explaining politics are well worth staying away from – but they’ll still dive into it, make it cogent for Jenny to find her way through questions and debates and, eventually, the vote. They love explaining the who and what and when and where and how of it all. And they love explaining the why. But they never quite manage it.

Jenny’s learned to phrase her questions like they’re light, flighty things. People are so much more afraid of depth, here, of philosophy, of meaning something they shouldn’t. So afraid of saying something too complicated, too technical, even when they have expertise. Dumbing things down in embarrassment.

They love to explain – they explain even when she doesn’t ask, even now that she knows her way around – but they never want to explain too hard or, Jenny thinks, they’re worried the magic will get sucked out of it somehow. That if the mystery goes away, if they allow themselves to truly understand, somehow physics will stop working and the world with it. So they summarize, paraphrase, redirect. Jenny’s learned to get at questions sidelong, but even then. The more expert people seem at first blush, the more flustered they get at the details. Always derailing with movies, or gossip, or sex.

They know how many worlds there are. They’d have to, to give her quizzical looks and correct her on terminology, to tell her that her clothing doesn’t look quite right, to study why her powers are so different, so rare among the people of this place. They’d have to, to flush and stammer out apologies when they overstep. When they say something her culture forbids, or she stumbles across something theirs does.

But then, Jenny’s pretty sure she never could’ve answered the why of it back home, either. That’s why she’s here. It was supposed to tell her something, but she’s pretty sure she hasn’t gained any more insight than the numbers told them all in the first place. She’s pretty sure that’s maybe not a thing she can do. That anyone can do. That maybe that’s not the kind of question science can answer, no matter how many worlds are at your disposal.

It’s a relief, in some ways, not being able to call home and report she’s learned nothing yet again. A relief to think everyone’s lives are continuing on as normal – you hear horror stories in a Parallel House – and they miss her, think of her like she thinks of them, assume she’s making discoveries by the minute. But the discoveries she makes aren’t the kind that tell her anything grand; the patterns always fall apart. So she calls herself an alien, and laughs, and moves on, and maybe that’s as close as she can get to a fact or figure.

[corvuschriisti]

'Hark, my good man!' The voice rings like a trumpet of the righteous, a cry sundering clouds (and eardrums, depending upon proximity). A voice that is decidedly L'Arachel.

And yet, it's not supposed to be her doing the talking.

It wasn't as if she hadn't tried. Addressing an acquaintance so directly, in such, flowery language, would've been the scandal of Rausten for at least a year!

But upon seeing a familiar face she can't help it, the Princess slips through. She was hardly corpsing (and goodness! she didn't want to brush shoulders with literal connotations of the term) a slight break, that's all.

To surpress such dainty prowess... why in less unconventional contexts, it would've been a brutish crime in and of itself! An impossibility!

The trophy room wouldn't have been her first choice, but a snatch of black wing prompts her saintly duty onwards to edify her poor instructor with her presence. The display in the hall would've left any mortal with less nerve than she scared! These fears, certainly not her own, could be encountered together.

'Say,' She tries for a confident saunter into the room, nearly flying on her cursed heels. 'Hath you been struck with mischance, or nefarious activity as of late?'

Her eyes land on the animal heads lining the walls, legions of the hunted. She pulls a face. 'Perchance we may pass the long hours with conference!' She lowers her glasses, retroactively worried her disguise is too impenetrable. 'It's me, L'Arachel by the by.'

Oh, it's his favorite student! He probably would be wise not to say as much --

( playing favorites is never a good idea, it appears, it results in the higher-ups having a sit down conversation about "equity of education" -- a conversation he has not yet had and certainly had no interest in experiencing )

-- but it still very much is the truth. They all have their roles, and currently he was a very sophisticated butler. He's not going to say he plays his role well, however, as he has been generally more of a nuisance than anything else. Still, play along for the audience and give them a show, hm?

"My lady," he gives her the deepest of bows. One hand goes to hers and he presses his lips to her knuckle. A perfect image of gentlemanliness and etiquette. "I fear we may have little time before the dreaded murder this evening. I have been doing some snooping about myself, and ask if someone of your talents and skills will also assist your poor servant in the task."

He does smile his signature smile, though, at her break of character. "Yes, L'arachel," he says, lowering his voice as if he were telling a dreadful secret. "And it's me, Naesala, I'm supposed to be playing a butler. How am I doing in my new role? The outfit is tacky, I know. I don't understand how real butlers stand this."

[promptedify]

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[steampunk-christians]

I’m not having an easy time at my job. It’s really, really difficult to find time to do anything other than work, eat, and sleep. It makes me feel sad because it sucks to complain about a blessing from God, but running into people who expect me to work for them to the point of absolute burnout has been such a constant issue in my life. It almost killed my relationship with my own sister the time I used to work for her (we do get along now, but it was quite difficult to heal from that, and believe me when I tell you I try not to hold it over her head).

I feel like I’m getting mixed signals from God. Like, yes, it’s a blessing that, for the first time in forever, I might actually get a decent paycheck for overworking myself. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still overworking myself to the point where I feel completely burned out most of the time. And then my inner monologue starts running these thoughts like: What if you only got this opportunity because God had to provide for you and knew you needed it, but the hardship of it is actually some kind of test or punishment? I feel like I keep going in circles trying to make sense of my life. Like, sure, there’s definitely an element of “play stupid games, win stupid prizes” in all of this. And at the end of the day, it’s not like I was using my free time wisely before, anyway.

But a few days ago, I started getting really aggravated because of the lack of sleep (which was my own fault anyway, lol), and I just told God that I didn’t understand what I was supposed to do or feel. I was like, How am I supposed to believe i’m in this world to make content for a masculinity coach who says misogynistic stuff like “you can never expect a woman to make a logical decision” and to prompt captions for shorts about cryptocurrency? Like, I don’t want to be snooty about it (warning: I will be snooty about it), but all these tasks are so far removed from who I am and what I actually like that I can’t help but feel kind of despondent about the fact that I’m stuck doing this for who knows how long, mostly because I am the provider of my own mother and no one in my family can help. However, right after asking for some sort of guidance, a funny situation happened. I can’t really explain it because it would take too much detail, and the specifics might not be that important or interesting, but the underlying feeling it left me with was as if God was telling me: “Be patient, my son.”

So… for the moment, it seems like I’m pretty stuck, and I just have to make the most out of the situationship. The only thing I’ve decided so far is that I’m going to start watching The Chosen—it feels like an easy way to distract myself in a way that’s still slightly edifying but doesn’t take too much effort or time. I can't even write these journal entries anymore because they take so much time 😭 I am trying not to sound like a spoiled child but maybe I am.

[laresearchette]

Tuesday, February 25, 2025 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES? BLAZE AND THE MONSTER MACHINES (new episode block) (Paramount + Canada) THE SMURFS (Paramount+ Canada) THE SMURFS 2 (Paramount + Canada) EYES ON THE PRIZE III: WE WHO BELIEVE IN FREEDOM CANNOT REST (HBO Canada) 9:00pm BIG FAMILY, BIG CITY (TLC Canada) 10:00pm

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA THE BUILDOUT

CBC GEM I SHALL NOT HATE

CRAVE TV DOPE GIRLS (premiere) EYES ON THE PRIZE III: WE WHO BELIEVE IN FREEDOM CANNOT REST (series premiere)

NETFLIX CANADA FULL SWING (Season 3) GOOSEBUMPS 2: HAUNTED HALLOWEEN

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 1:00pm: Cardinals vs. Jays

NHL HOCKEY (SNWest) 7:00pm: Flames vs. Capitals (TSN2) 7:00pm: Hurricanes vs. Habs (TSN4) 7:00pm: Leafs vs. Bruins (SN1/SNPacific) 7:30pm: Oilers vs. Rays

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN/TSN3/TSN5) 7:00pm: Celtics vs. Raptors (SN Now) 7:30pm: Cavaliers vs. Magic (TSN3/TSN5) 10:00pm: Mavericks vs. Lakers

ONE DISH, ONE SPOON (APTN) 7:00pm: Chef Tawnya explores Old Fort Erie, a War of 1812 British outpost, learning how her Mohawk ancestors provided fresh game and fish for soldiers; she recreates an 1812-inspired meal, taking us on a 210-year journey into Canada's past.

THIS HOUR HAS 22 MINUTES (CBC) 8:00pm

HUDSON & REX (City TV) 8:00pm: Jesse and Stella's band gig goes sour when they become the victims of a mass poisoning, becoming key witnesses in piecing together a deadly night at the pub.

FIND MY COUNTRY HOUSE: CANADA (CTV Life) 8:00pm/8:30pm: Christine and Marcel want a quaint property in Armstrong; they hope to find a home with character and a welcoming feel. In Episode Two, Vince and April are drawn to Fort Macleod's historic charm; they're searching for a home that blends history with modern convenience.

THE EDIFY SHOW: HEARTIES TUESDAY (Super Channel Heart & Home) 8:00pm

FINALLY CAUGHT (Super Channel Fuse) 8:05pm/9:00pm/10:00pm: Ford: Officer David Ford's life seemed perfect until his shocking death. Suspicion falls close to home, revealing secrets that challenge appearances. In Episode Two, Tokes: Reagan Tokes, a student, disappears, prompting an investigation; her case raises questions about parole and criminal justice. In Episode Three, Oxley: Ben Oxley's murder appears calculated, but the truth reveals an unexpected betrayal.

SON OF A CRITCH (CBC) 8:30pm: Mark invites Fox to a party with his grown-up theatre troupe where he frustrates her by acting like an adult; Dick is upset to find Mike Jr. dating his daughter.

TGL GOLF (SN360/SNEast/SNOntario) 7:00pm: The Bay Golf Club vs. Jupiter Links

SMALL ACHIEVABLE GOALS (CBC) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Julie gets passed over for a promotion and discovers she's in menopause; Kris's first day at The Podcast Folx is complicated by an unexpected period, a new co-host, and a hostile new producer: Julie.

HIGHWAY THRU HELL (USA Network Canada) 9:00pm: Rob and Kyle navigate tight spaces around a tractor-trailer on Highway 97; Cary uses his late grandfather's old wrecker to rescue a trail worker's equipment; Jamie is impressed by his twin daughter's skills while recovering a car on a snowy backroad.

OUTRAGEOUS HOMES (Home Network) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen visits properties across the UK with wild, wonderful and outrageous domestic decor to discover why these homeowners dare to be different with their designs and how they did it.

HALIFAX COMEDY FESTIVAL (CBC) 9:30pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Performances by Orny Adams, Graham Kay, Charles Haycock, Joze Piranian, Ava Val, Rob Pue, Vicky Mullaley, Ashwyn Singh, and Andrew Packer.

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Put Off Sin

that ye put away, as concerning your former manner of life, the old man, that waxeth corrupt after the lusts of deceit; and that ye be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, that after God hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth. (Ephesians 4:22-24 ASV)

Paul here gives an instruction. He tells us to put off the old man, but to be renewed in the spirit of our mind. Fortunately, he lays out for us what that looks like by using numerous contrasts. He also gives motivation as to why we should live in the renewed spirit of our mind. 1) Putting away Falsehood vs Speak Truth. Why? We are members one of another. 2) We may get angry, this is a natural response for someone doing wrong to you. However, do not let the sun go down while you are still angry. In doing so, you give the devil a foothold. 3) Theft vs working with your own hands. Motivation - you now have something to share with others. I shall return to this one. 4) Corrupt speech vs edifying speech. Edifying speech builds a person up. 5) Replacing bitterness, wrath, anger, clamour and railing be put away, replacing this with tenderheartedness and forgiveness. Reason, Christ forgave you. In my experience, forgiveness is a key to a lot of our problems. Let us come back to 3 above. I see this being, yes an instruction to a thief, but also a principle that we should practice. Instead of a destructive, sinful behaviour, we should find something constructive to replace the bad behaviour. In the text, it is working instead of stealing. Personally, I found myself looking at women on the train while traveling to and fro from work. I replaced that destructive sinful behaviour with reading, more often than not Christian books, if it be theology, biography, historical, apologetics, or any one of a number of fields related to the Bible, or sometimes the Bible itself. The great thing is I now was accumulating a wealth of knowledge that I could share with others. Coming back to anger. There are times when our anger is justified. Jesus got angry at the money changers in the temple. They had changed the place of worship into a place of merchandise. You should get angry at corruption and crime in our society. These are righteous reasons to be angry. Often though, our anger is not righteous. It is caused by misunderstanding or something else that has triggered a negative response. Two Ways to Live? In reality this devotion is mainly aimed at Christians. The question we should all ask, is are we diligently putting off our sinful lifestyle and replacing that lifestyle with positive behaviour? It is not easy, but smacked bang in the middle is this line "grieve not the Holy Spirit". We can only overcome by the strength the Holy Spirit gives and by His guidance. Not listening or not obeying is grieving the Holy Spirit. Remember what happened to Cain? God came to him and told him that sin was crouching at his door and God gave command what he should do to overcome. No different to how the Holy Spirit prompts us. To those not yet Born Again, and therefore do not have Holy Spirit in you, you can ask God through Jesus to guide you. All you need do is believe on Jesus death and resurrection, that He died for your sins and then also repent. Father, thank you that you have given us not only practical lessons in how to overcome sin, but you also give us the Holy Spirit to prompt us and guide us. Help us to be better listeners and more obedient to promptings. Forgive us for when we have grieved Holy Spirit.