#Savior worthy of Honor

[the-harvest-field]

Discipline in God's love

Savior worthy of Honor… No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:11  Jesus awesome in power, awesome and great is your name. Jesus thank you for laying your life down for me. Type your email… Subscribe

[kafkasmuses]

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

[cultpastorkevin]

Cult Tips for AFTG writers

notes from the resident ex-cult pastor

If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.

When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.

I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks

Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.

You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.

On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.

There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.

Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.

Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.

Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.

Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!

EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.

Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡

[kouriimei]

Elidibus Week 2023 - Day 5: Tether

"From this life, our savior born... May I be worthy of the honor."

the quote that started it all: the tether that which bounded him to his duty, that unraveled him, and his very being.

[thepepsislvt]

What if we had another Barto fic because were so starved for his content esp in writing if the reader was like a strawhat that luffy picked up in like skypiea maybe..like a shandorian with the little wings 👀.. just a thought..

I WIN yes i will write more of Barto bc i love him and im glad so many other people love him too!

this one seemed rushed and i apologize i wrote this before my second shift of work :(

Bartolomeo x Winged! Gn Reader

warnings: all fluff, some cursing, mention of doflamingo

you were born on Skypiea and thats all you’ve known

you were always so curious as a child but nobody would tell you what the rest of the world was like

So when you hit your teenage years you decide that one day you're going to leave the floating island

You had wings so you could easily fly away but you couldn't navigate the ocean by yourself

Most nights you would hope and pray that someday, someone would save you.

That's when a certain pirate with a straw hat came and fucked shit up on your island

At the age of 19, you knew this was your getaway, a savior you had spent all of these years praying for

After he won the battle he was fighting you came up to him and his crew as they were about to depart

“Strawhat! You must take me with you! I will prove myself worthy to join your crew-”

“Ok”

“-and I won't take no for an answer! Wait did you say okay? That fast?” you looked at the pirate captain with confusion and shock

All he did was smile and nod

So it was easier than you thought

It didn't take very long to get along with the rest of the crew members

You would give Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy rides through the air

Zoro taught you how to use a sword

Naomi taught you to pickpockets even though you probably won't use that skill

The Entire crew loved you

When Frankly and Brook joined the Straw hats you easily got along with them as well

When you got separated for two years on Sabaody you couldn't have been happier to see them

Your wings had fully grown and you could now use them to their full potential

You guys may have changed a lot physically over the past two years but nothing has changed between your friendship

During the events of Dressrosa, you decided to follow Luffy to the Colosseum to make sure he doesnt give away his identity and draw unwanted attention towards him

While you and Luffy were watching the fight, a certain green haired rooster head had caught your eye

he was hated by the crowd for being vulgar but thats what you liked about him

after his victory in Block B you knew you had to go and greet him

what you were not expecting was him to start crying and saying how much he wasn’t good enough to be in your presence

how can such a scary looking man with the title “Cannibal” fall to his knees over someone like you?

you were flattered by his kind (?) response and had to console him

he asked you to sign your wanted poster he kept

after the defeat of Doflamingo, you hung around Bartolomeo more, falling more and more for him and his wild personality

he had finally accepted that you were actually his friend and took his fanboying down a notch (he still has his moments though)

you had asked him out since you know damn well he wouldnt have the balls to ask you

when you did he just about died on the spot

but y’all had the best time on your date

Sanji and Nami had helped you dress nicely for the event

at the end of the night Barto and you were just star gazing as you told him all about each constellation

Barto knew he had to something he just didnt know how

“you see those six stars up there forming a ‘W’? they call that one the King of Pirates in honor of Gol Roger himself! isnt that cool?” you had explained while pointing to the sky

after you didnt get a response from him you looked over to see if he was alright only to be met with his face close to yours

“Barto? are you alright?” you whispered to him

He just stared into your eyes before kissing your cheek, leaving you flustered and your wings spread out in suprise

“was that okay? should i not have done it?” Bartolomeo started to panic and think of every possible negative outcome before you kissed his lips gently

“more than alright”

he Smiled and started giggling all giddy

“I GOT KISSED BY MY FAVORITE STRAWHAT!!” he yelled out into the sky

you only laughed and kissed him again

[walkswithmyfather]

‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭1:12‭-‬17‬ (‭GNT‬‬). “I give thanks to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength for my work. I thank him for considering me worthy and appointing me to serve him, even though in the past I spoke evil of him and persecuted and insulted him. But God was merciful to me because I did not yet have faith and so did not know what I was doing. And our Lord poured out his abundant grace on me and gave me the faith and love which are ours in union with Christ Jesus. This is a true saying, to be completely accepted and believed: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. I am the worst of them, but God was merciful to me in order that Christ Jesus might show his full patience in dealing with me, the worst of sinners, as an example for all those who would later believe in him and receive eternal life. To the eternal King, immortal and invisible, the only God—to him be honor and glory forever and ever! Amen.”

“Grace on Display” By In Touch Ministries:

“Even the worst of sinners is welcome to receive God's extravagant mercy and love.”

“Paul described himself as the worst of sinners and as someone to whom the Lord had expressed His favor and love (1 Tim. 1:16 NIV). How could he be both? That’s the power of God’s grace: Though sinners, we become spiritually alive and receive a new purpose for living.

After Paul met the Savior, he cared deeply about those who did not yet know God, and he also desired to help Christians grow in their faith. For the rest of his life, he shared the gospel, encouraged fellow believers, and met the needs of others. He acted as God’s ambassador to the Gentiles, and his letters became biblical wisdom for future generations.

Through the transforming work of the Holy Spirit, Paul began to display more and more Christlike qualities. In his writings, we see compassion, great humility, and appreciation for God’s blessings. Only the grace of God could enable a well-educated and influential man to count all his credentials a “loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8).

Paul’s life is an example of God working through sinners and transforming them. The Holy Spirit seeks to do the same for you and me. Are you allowing God’s favor and love to work within you?”

[Photo by Jametlene Reskp at Unsplash]

[lupininc]

I’m so pissed off that Rowling has cleared up the bastards and turned those worthy people into something terrible.

Draco Malfoy, the little bastard who abused Hermione and the other kids, who cursed and attempted to kill two people - we have a good father - a family man and a grieving husband.

But Harry Potter, from being a hero with a good heart and an honor , is turning into a domestic abuser, yelling at his wife, ex-teacher, and harassing his own son over a relationship with an unwanted child.

Remus Lupin, a man of high morals and loyalty, turned into a coward who abandoned his pregnant wife to go where he wasn’t asked.

But we have Severus Snape, who loved to humiliate children, was an evil genius of dark magic and called his " true love " Mudblood - we have hero and savior!

And for dessert, my favorite dish. James Potter, from a noble man who gave his life for his son and wife - now is the chief bully of the whole saga, and also sexual assaulter. God, that woman put suspicion in his own son’s mouth that he raped his mother!

I hate that woman with all my heart

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

And thus, the Scourge War finally ends, perhaps bringing with it an era of peace. An era of growth. An era of worshipping the One True Fuckable Scourge. A Golden Age, perhaps… a Scourge Renaissance?

It has been an honor fighting along side you die-hard G1 Scourge fans in these anonymous askboxes and an honor fighting you ROTB Scourge fans as well. Without such a worthy opponent we would not have gotten such enlightened discussions and glorious propaganda. GG in good faith all around.

And to all the other scourges: we still love you even if you’re all a little funky

And now, it is time to go forth and commemorate our Lord and Savior G1 Scourge, 80’s porn star dollar store vampire supreme

Scourjesus

[uldahstreetrat]

Mayncient - 18. Oath

"From this life, our savior born…May I be worthy of the honor."

[darlin-djarin]

TBH my biggest problem with the walks between both worlds line is that to me it lowkey implies that it would be impossible for someone who follows Din's version of the creed to reunite Mandalore. That taking off the helmet is required to be a good Mand'alor. Although that could be me being pessimistic

ohhh interesting, i’ve never thought about it like that, but i understand what you mean. i have mixed feelings about the “walk between worlds” line because a lot of people are using it to justify that din should take off the helmet, when it was SO clear on screen that he is not that type of mandalorian, and that his creed means everything to him (besides grogu). i understand your thinking on how it’s like “oh well in order to be a good mand’alor you MUST walk both worlds and freely remove the helmet”, but i think of it more like: this is bo-katan. she walks both worlds, she understands the different ways of the creed, and therefore she can help unite the different sects of mandalorians together because she’s experienced all their ways of life.

while i do still like. not approve of bo being mand’alor (yet. if they had more depth to her and didn’t totally erase her past to make her seem like a white savior disney princess and actually made her do something honorable and worthy of the title, then MAYBE i would’ve been okay with it, but i still miss mand’alor din djarin for alternate reasons), i understand the intention of what the line “walk between both worlds” means, but my biggest issue is how people warp that line around so much to try to justify going against din’s version of the creed, when it was made SO clear that his covert is not a cult and that they are just a deeply religious orthodox group who invested further in their religion to keep themselves safe from the rest of the world that was out to get them.

see i don’t mind bo-katan BEING the person who walks between worlds. i actually don’t mind that at all, i love it even. because after she joined the covert (on accident), it opened her eyes to the different ways of life that the mandalorian sects experience and it made her realize that her view of what she previously considered was a “cult” was wrong, and that they were just a desperate people clinging onto a desperate way of life that they considered was sacred. she UNDERSTOOD then, and THAT’S why she walks between worlds.

MY issue is that while bo-katan walks in between worlds, she hasn’t done anything genuinely worthy enough, in my opinion, to earn back the title of mand’alor. she’s lost the darksaber like, what, 3 times? she’s a terrorist, she’s reckless, she’s brash, emotional, messy. that’s what i like about her. she’s just a whole mess, and i thought she’d start to learn that maybe her role WASN’T to lead mand’alor. maybe it was to join together the warring tribes and sects, but not genuinely lead. i feel like she’d be great advising, or being in charge of their forces, or just bringing the different tribes together (since we ALL know no one is gonna listen to djarin’s awkward ass), but genuinely being mand’alor? i haven’t seen anything worthy enough from her, yk what i’m saying? if favroni had actually made her address her past, bring up satine, etc etc and make her actually DO something that made her worthy, then i wouldn’t be complaining NEARLY as much (i’d still be complaining bc this is DIN’S show and the whole plot of him getting the darksaber makes no sense if he’s just gonna give it back to her anyway, but that’s another story).

anyway i feel like i veered off track but i understand what you mean anon, i just think our interpretations differ and that’s totally valid. this is just my opinion on that line “walks between both worlds” etc etc. if people have other interpretations that’s totally fine too.

[orthodoxadventure]

HOLY PASCHA: The Resurrection of Our Lord

Commemorated on May 5

Pascha (Easter)

Enjoy ye all the feast of faith; receive ye all the riches of loving-kindness. (Sermon of Saint John Chrysostom, read at Paschal Matins)

The resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead is the center of the Christian faith. Saint Paul says that if Christ is not raised from the dead, then our preaching and faith are in vain (I Cor. 15:14). Indeed, without the resurrection there would be no Christian preaching or faith. The disciples of Christ would have remained the broken and hopeless band which the Gospel of John describes as being in hiding behind locked doors for fear of the Jews. They went nowhere and preached nothing until they met the risen Christ, the doors being shut (John 20: 19). Then they touched the wounds of the nails and the spear; they ate and drank with Him. The resurrection became the basis of everything they said and did (Acts 2-4): “. . . for a spirit has not flesh and bones as you see that I have” (Luke 24:39).

The resurrection reveals Jesus of Nazareth as not only the expected Messiah of Israel, but as the King and Lord of a new Jerusalem: a new heaven and a new earth.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. . . the holy city, new Jerusalem. And I heard a great voice from the throne saying “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people. . . He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away (Rev. 21:1-4).

In His death and resurrection, Christ defeats the last enemy, death, and thereby fulfills the mandate of His Father to subject all things under His feet (I Cor. 15:24-26).

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing (Rev. 5: 12)

THE FEAST OF FEASTS

The Christian faith is celebrated in the liturgy of the Church. True celebration is always a living participation. It is not a mere attendance at services. It is communion in the power of the event being celebrated. It is God’s free gift of joy given to spiritual men as a reward for their self-denial. It is the fulfillment of spiritual and physical effort and preparation. The resurrection of Christ, being the center of the Christian faith, is the basis of the Church’s liturgical life and the true model for all celebration. This is the chosen and holy day, first of sabbaths, king and lord of days, the feast of feasts, holy day of holy days. On this day we bless Christ forevermore (Irmos 8, Paschal Canon).

PREPARATION

Twelve weeks of preparation precede the “feast of feasts.” A long journey which includes five prelenten Sundays, six weeks of Great Lent and finally Holy Week is made. The journey moves from the self-willed exile of the prodigal son to the grace-filled entrance into the new Jerusalem, coming down as a bride beautifully adorned for her husband (Rev. 21:2) Repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and study are the means by which this long journey is made.

Focusing on the veneration of the Cross at its midpoint, the lenten voyage itself reveals that the joy of the resurrection is achieved only through the Cross. “Through the cross joy has come into all the world,” we sing in one paschal hymn. And in the paschal troparion, we repeat again and again that Christ has trampled down death—by death! Saint Paul writes that the name of Jesus is exalted above every name because He first emptied Himself, taking on the lowly form of a servant and being obedient even to death on the Cross (Phil. 2:5-11). The road to the celebration of the resurrection is the self-emptying crucifixion of Lent. Pascha is the passover from death to life.

Yesterday I was buried with Thee, O Christ. Today I arise with Thee in Thy resurrection. Yesterday I was crucified with Thee: Glorify me with Thee, O Savior, in Thy kingdom (Ode 3, Paschal Canon).

THE PROCESSION

The divine services of the night of Pascha commence near midnight of Holy Saturday. At the Ninth Ode of the Canon of Nocturn, the priest, already vested in his brightest robes, removes the Holy Shroud from the tomb and carries it to the altar table, where it remains until the leave-taking of Pascha. The faithful stand in darkness. Then, one by one, they light their candles from the candle held by the priest and form a great procession out of the church. Choir, servers, priest and people, led by the bearers of the cross, banners, icons and Gospel book, circle the church. The bells are rung incessantly and the angelic hymn of the resurrection is chanted.

The procession comes to a stop before the principal doors of the church. Before the closed doors the priest and the people sing the troparion of Pascha, “Christ is risen from the dead...”, many times. Even before entenng the church the priest and people exchange the paschal greeting: “Christ is risen! Indeed He is risen!” This segment of the paschal services is extremely important. It preserves in the expenence of the Church the primitive accounts of the resurrection of Christ as recorded in the Gospels. The angel rolled away the stone from the tomb not to let a biologically revived but physically entrapped Christ walk out, but to reveal that “He is not here; for He has risen, as He said” (Matt. 28:6).

In the paschal canon we sing:

Thou didst arise, O Christ, and yet the tomb remained sealed, as at Thy birth the Virgin’s womb remained unharmed; and Thou has opened for us the gates of paradise (Ode 6).

Finally, the procession of light and song in the darkness of night, and the thunderous proclamation that, indeed, Christ is risen, fulfill the words of the Evangelist John: “The light shines in darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

The doors are opened and the faithful re-enter. The church is bathed in light and adorned with flowers. It is the heavenly bride and the symbol of the empty tomb:

Bearing life and more fruitful than paradise Brighter than any royal chamber, Thy tomb, O Christ, is the fountain or our resurrection (Paschal Hours).

MATINS

Matins commences immediately. The risen Christ is glorified in the singing of the beautiful canon of Saint John of Damascus. The paschal greeting is repeatedly exchanged. Near the end of Matins the paschal verses are sung. They relate the entire narrative of the Lord’s resurrection. They conclude with the words calling us to actualize among each other the forgiveness freely given to all by God:

This is the day of resurrection. Let us be illumined by the feast. Let us embrace each other. Let us call “brothers” even those who hate us, And forgive all by the resurrection. . .

The sermon of Saint John Chrysostom is then read by the celebrant. The sermon was originally composed as a baptismal instruction. It is retained by the Church in the paschal services because everything about the night of Pascha recalls the Sacrament of Baptism: the language and general terminology of the liturgical texts, the specific hymns, the vestment color, the use of candles and the great procession itself. Now the sermon invites us to a great reaffirmation of our baptism: to union with Christ in the receiving of Holy Communion.

If any man is devout and loves God, let him enjoy this fair and radiant triumphal feast. . . the table is fully laden; feast you all sumptuously. . . the calf is fatted, let no one go hungry away. . .

THE DIVINE LITURGY

The sermon announces the imminent beginning of the Divine Liturgy. The altar table is fully laden with the divine food: the Body and Blood of the risen and glorified Christ. No one is to go away hungry. The service books are very specific in saying that only he who partakes of the Body and Blood of Christ eats the true Pascha. The Divine Liturgy, therefore, normally follows immediately after paschal Matins. Foods from which the faithful have been asked to abstain during the lenten journey are blessed and eaten only after the Divine Liturgy.

THE DAY WITHOUT EVENING

Pascha is the inauguration of a new age. It reveals the mystery of the eighth day. It is our taste, in this age, of the new and unending day of the Kingdom of God. Something of this new and unending day is conveyed to us in the length of the paschal services, in the repetition of the paschal order for all the services of Bright Week, and in the special paschal features retained in the services for the forty days until Ascension. Forty days are, as it were, treated as one day. Together they comprise the symbol of the new time in which the Church lives and toward which she ever draws the faithful, from one degree of glory to another.

O Christ, great and most holy Pascha. O Wisdom, Word and Power of God, grant that we may more perfectly partake of Thee in the never-ending day of Thy kingdom (Ninth Ode, Paschal Canon).

The V. Rev. Paul Lazor New York, 1977

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies to takes these two uquizzes for my ocs

What is your ocs true role in the story?

The "Oh" quiz

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @direwombat @voidika @statichvm @florbelles @cassietrn @shallow-gravy @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @clicheantagonist @voidika @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @jillvalentinesday @madparadoxum @stacispratt @henbased @unholymilf

the "chosen one"

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. if wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...

*honestly could not ask for a better result for her, that's absolutely the role she plays in her timeline and while the groups that see her as the hero change, that is very much the title she is given. Also the "sacrificial lion in golden chains"??? UQUIZ STOP!!

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

*another fantastic result. That whole first bit is very much how things start for Kit and Jacob, she's going through the motions of fighting the cult when she hears his voice and the things he says and she can already tell there's something different about being around him. That slideshow was the moment sparks went off tbh (even the fixing the posture is spot on with her putting on that rigid soldier posture for him). As for re-contextualizing her existence, and her feeling incomplete before him, oh yeah, that's their whole thing. Finding someone that completes her, someone who makes her more of herself instead of being scared of it. And the shared brain chemistry...too spot on really

[firstroseofspring]

i didn't want to leave a wall of text on that muse post by @marxistgnome but i love it so much and this is going to be so rushed but i could go on and on and on about b'elanna and storytelling and narratives. this got really long and so under the cut it goes

it all really ties into that post i once saw about this consistency with b'elanna episodes where they reveal more about her as a person through her interior life- her thoughts and dreams and visions... what she does when she's alone. and muse really gives us this close up look at the way she sees things and what she cares about through kelis - the stories she tells him and the way she interacts with him- because he gives this good intimate portait of the world as b'elanna sees it- as she's described it to him (almost makes you wonder what she was considering there- whether she thought she should tell someone their stories because they're stuck in another quadrant and might not make it home, or if she thought she wasn't going to get off that planet and might not make it back to voyager)

and of course he's crafting a play so there's room for his own creativity but b'elanna tells him their story really well and she cares about it and you can tell. she cares a lot.

we get another really good look at this in barge of the dead like famously- and it's so consistent in that episode too because she's on the barge and she recognizes kortar from the stories her mom told her as a child and he directly acknowledges that. he says she believes in grethor and in him and she believes because her mother told her the story after she nearly drowned in the sea of gatan. remember prophecy? she's recounting the whole heroic battle with the borg to the klingon generation ship that think baby miral is their savior and the whole scene is framed like (at least it felt this way to me) that for all she says about not being familiar with klingon culture in any respect, the way she interacts with storytelling especially reveals the depth of her understanding of it- shes telling the story and she's telling it really well according to klingon custom and the first thing the visiting klingons do after she tells it is compliment that ability. and its sooo much.

when her and harry are going back and forth at the end of muse and she just goes harry have you ever inspired somebody? when he asks why she even cares so much about the ending of kelis' play. there's just like this klingon belief about living a life that's worthy of being shared with others- like when in day of honor the hologram is evaluating whether she's spent her year honorably and asks her what she's done with her life that's worth celebrating and she can't answer and he tells her that she's giving him excuses. and the direct parallel that could be drawn about how she feels about that with the janeway vision in barge of the dead where she's being condemned and the whole reason is that she's done nothing worthy of glory- 'nothing worthy of song and story.' my goodness

even when she convinces janeway to let her go back to the barge- janeway says it's not real, that she won't let her risk her life for something that she only thinks she experienced- but b'elanna tells her it doesn't even matter if she thinks it was real- that it was real to her and she cares about what her mother thinks of her and she doesn't want her to die thinking badly of her.

we see this with worf, of course the angle we're given is honor and truth and duty- but how you're remembered and talked about is important, even from generation to generation- disgrace in his family is disgrace for him. when they accuse his father of being a traitor at khitomer, it's important to him that his father be remembered as he was - truthfully, honorably, as someone to remember well (even the titles and names they give themselves being little retellings of their lives and the members of their family- on memory alpha worf isn't just worf, he's worf, son of mogh, of the human family rozhenko, mate to k'ehleyr, father to alexander, husband of jadzia, bane of the house of duras, slayer of gowron etc etc.)

((sidenote but b'elanna never in her life introduces herself as b'elanna daughter of miral always as b'elanna torres but on the barge of the dead kortar calls her miral's daughter immediately. and if she's partially from this culture where naming and titles are so important in that respect and b'elanna thinks her mother is. not what she wants to be known by not what she wants to be identified as it's soo relevant to what she calls herself. roxann dawson said that b'elanna wanted to be 'human and perfect' like her father and so she's not ' b'elanna daughter of miral' anymore because she doesn't want miral to be a part of her story, how she's remembered. so it's belanna torres.))

anyway this same- dedication to truth we get from worf and his father's memory we see even with b'elanna in 'remember' where she gets those telepathic dreams/visions from the alien woman about what really happened with that group of people they oppressed. the crew discover that the dreams are starting to affect her health- and so they offer to suppress them, take them away and b'elanna just refuses. because how else will she know what happens to them? who's going to tell their story? and she shares that story once she has it with anybody who will listen because its worth telling.

i'm going a little crazy but klingons and writing and literature and song and stories and living memory its all so. it's ridiculously important culturally. and how that translates back to b'elanna is so fascinating

[valorums]

WHAT IS YOUR TRUE ROLE IN THE STORY?

take the linked quiz from the perspective of your muse.

THE CHOSEN ONE

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. it wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...

TAGGED BY @mnolith (thank you bestie 🥺)

TAGGING @alootus (Padmè), @oflightsbeam (Hera), @wornkindness (Amelia), @pilothearted (Poe), @mvndrvke (Seril), @stars-written (Nil-Rae), @lostwcrlds (Grim), @misfittcd (Kian), @nieithryn (Calista), @vendettavalor (Aurelia), AND YOU.

[wardenswateringhole]

The Warden's Repayment

Warden Ingo x Reader

GN reader with female equipment

CW:

Exhibitionism

Breeding Kink

18+ Below the cut. Enjoy.

Warden Ingo was quicker than he looked. One moment an Alpha Garchomp bared down on you, the next moment you were wrapped up in the warden's arms as his Gliscor dispatched the menacing creature. You could help but gaze up at your savior. His eyes watched the battle with unbreakable focus. His face was stern and weathered from his time in the mountains. His hair flowed with the breeze, shining in the sunlight.

You could feel your chest fluttering and heat spreading over your face. You had given the warden a look over more than once. He had caught you eyeballing him one day, much to his amusement. That one interaction was enough to start a blossoming relationship between you. Hand holding and chaste kisses were the extent of what transpired between the two of you. It was enough then, but now...

The pokémon was distracted long enough for Ingo to whisk you off to safety. Once you reached a safer area, he fussed over you, checking you for injuries and inquiring endlessly as to your well-being. He relaxed when you finally convinced him that all was well. A thought began to form as you looked over the relieved warden once more. He was so kind. His job as warden was so thankless. He needed to be repaid somehow.

Warden Ingo...” You purred at him. His eyes shifted back to you. His body was still, seemingly unsure as to your behavior. “Yes, my dear?”

Pulling your best innocent act, you smiled sweetly at him. “I must thank you for saving me from that Alpha. I shudder to think of what might have happened had you not been there.”

You approached him slowly. Ingo turned his body completely toward you, a light blush on his cheeks. He went to reach up and fidget with his hat like he oft did but your hands rubbing over his chest stopped him in his tracks.

“I feel I must repay you some how. I don't have any money or trinkets of value to give you.” Your eyes met his. You could stare into them all day. They sparkled so lovely when he was happy. The dulled so deeply when he was down.

“Perhaps there is something else I could offer you? Perhaps... myself?”

Ingo's face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. He began to stammer out sounds, none of which seemed to be a word your recognized. He knew what you wanted and he obviously wanted it too. His damned bashfulness wasn't going down without a fight. You just needed to push a little more.

“Doesn't a great warden like you need an heir? I'd be honored if you would breed me.”

Ingo froze. You see his eyes lose focus for a moment before squaring in on you. They carried a much different look now. A smoldering look that could melt all the ice in the Alabaster Iceland. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

You did something. You don't know what you did, but you did something.

The warden composed himself back into his stoic demeanor. His eyes closed as he scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “You are right. A warden should have an heir ready to take over in the future.” His eyes opened to give you a steely look. “But what makes you think you are worthy to carry my heir?”

Ingo stepped away from your touch, leaving you a bit confused. He put his hands behind his back and silently ran his eyes over your body. “I must assess you.” The low rumble of his voice sent chills up your spine. “Remove your clothing. Slowly.”

You did as he commanded. Each article of clothing was peeled away and tossed aside. You made sure to give the good warden a show. His face only faltered as he licked his lips. Eventually goosebumps covered your skin as the cool mountain air blew over you.

Ingo stepped forward in slow calculated strides. He began to circle you. You could feel his hungry eyes taking in your naked form. His rough calloused hand ran over your rear, warming the cold flesh. He hummed as you shuddered from his touch.

“I like what I see.”

Your ear felt warm from his breath as he leaned from behind you. His lips on your neck caused your eyes to lose focus. Arms wrapped around you as his hands did their own exploring. One reached up to your chest and pinched a hardened nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He rolled it as he lightly bite and sucked at your neck. The other reached down and gently touched your heat. He played with your folds but didn't dare enter you. Even when you tried pressing yourself into his hand, he remained stubbornly outside. A deep chuckle vibrated into your shoulder.

“Not yet, my dear. I'm not done with my assessment. I must be thorough.”

“I-Ingo...”

“Now, now...”

His embrace left you and the sounds of rustling fabric could be heard. He moved in front of you, completely bare chested. You wanted so badly to to run your hands over his muscles, to trace the discolored scars that stood out against his paler skin. He gestured behind you. “Lie down on my coat. Wouldn't want that beautiful body of yours getting anymore dirty than it needs to be.”

He helped you lie down on his coat. It was still warm from his body heat and shielded you nicely from the cold ground. Ingo knelt before you and spread your legs. “Now... how do you taste?”

His head was between your legs immediately. His hot tongue parted your folds and dove inside you. It twirled and lapped at every surface it could reach inside of you. One long lick from your center to your apex ended with his lips gripped tightly around your clit. It caused your hips to jerk. Ingo's hands clutching your thighs didn't let you get far.

You moaned lewdly as he continued to eat you. Your hands gripped handfuls of his coat. Every once in a while you would look down and see his lidded eyes watching you intently. Pleasure crashed over your like a tidal wave and you couldn't stop yourself from cumming into his mouth. His tongue took long wide licks, gathering every drop you released.

“Bravo. I can't wait to enjoy such a taste again.” Ingo sat upright and began to unfasten his pants. “Unfortunately there are more pressing matters that need attending.” He pulled his cock free and stroked it a couple times. He chuckled as you looked at it with a look of wonder.

“I feel you are a great candidate to carry my heir. Soft, beautiful, delicious. The perfect little breeder.”

His attentions from earlier still didn't prepare you for how much he stretched you with each hot inch he buried into you. You whined as he filled you completely. Ingo crushed his lips into yours as he began with slow, deep thrusts.

Ingo's tongue wrapped around yours, savoring your taste. Your moans were lost in his mouth as his hips rolled into yours. He left your lips found a new home underneath your jaw. You felt him leaving his mark there then his soft tongue soothing the spot. His breath rang in your ears. It sounded like he was trying desperately to gulp down breathes of you. Of your entire being.

“I love you...” He breathed as he ran his lips across your throat. “You feel so much better than I could have ever imagined.”

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace. The way he shifted his hips hit at areas you didn't know could feel so good. He groaned each time you body clenched onto him. The sound seemed to devolved into a growl the more the excitement seemed to build. Teeth grazed at your earlobe as his voice rolled into your ears.

“Too quiet...” He thrust into you sharply, causing you to yelp. “Sing for me... Tell the sky who you love...”

You needed no other invitation. Whatever restraint you had was gone and as your voice began to ring out so did his. A chorus of passion accompanied your bodies exploding with sparks at the contact your shared. You no longer had to move. His thrusting made it impossible for you to even try to keep pace with him anymore.

“Ingo... I'm gonna...”

Ingo didn't let you finish that sentence. His lips enveloped yours as both of you finally crashed over the edge. His spend pumped into you and filled you with it's warmth as your body began to relax. His head buried into the nook of your neck as he breathed deep breaths.

“Bravo, my dear...” He whispered, pecking kisses against your sweaty skin. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, now also soaked in sweat.

“I love you so much, Ingo.” You chuckled. “I would be honored to carry your heir.”

His laughter vibrated into your shoulder. His gaze rose to meet yours. A passionate kiss was shared between you before he spoke once more.

“The honor would be all mine, my love.”

[joseph4inspiration]

(Romans 5:8)

When difficulties present themselves, and those doubtful thoughts start popping in your head, the best thing you can do is remind yourself where it all started. We didn't accept God first, He accepted us first. What God did for us wasn't meant to last for a period of time - like our time in prayer or in praise. No, what He did for us was done with eternity in mind. As God's children we honor Him because He's worthy. But God made us His very own while we were unworthy.

God ALWAYS has our best interests at heart, even before we accepted Him as our Lord and Savior.

So cast those doubtful thoughts aside, and remind yourself that God can ALWAYS be trusted.