#hear my plea mighty artists

[mycupofrum]

Can somebody please draw James Potter in a kilt? Anyone? 🙏

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Talk Dirty to Me

Summary: You and Dean test pickup lines on each other, taking the sexual tension between you to a new level.

WC: 1,610

Warnings: smut-adjacent? Not exactly explicit, but definitely mature content. Dirty pickup lines and thoughts, sexual tension, smidge of sexy touching, playful banter and fluff

A/N: A submission for #AmandasFlirtyDirty30 (using prompts 5, 42, 46, 55, 58, & 60 I think? I lost count!) I was initially trying to squeeze in as many pickup lines as I could (courtesy of Google), and I kind of love that it got away from me. Credit to New Girl and Nick Miller for the last line. Gif by @dancingalone21 

"Nice dress, sweetheart.”

You turned to smile at Dean, surprised at the compliment. “Thanks, Dean—”

“Can I talk you out of it? ‘Cause I bet you’d look even better without your clothes on.”

Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head and scoffed.

The two of you had stayed up late one night, falling down a rabbit hole of looking up cheesy pickup lines that soon grew raunchy. It had started out harmless, as most things do. A playful challenge that had become a game of sorts—each of you striving to find a line that would make the other crack. You’d memorized as many as you could, trying to slip them into conversation without warning so you could boast when the other cracked a smile. The game had taken a turn somewhere along the way, and you were slowly losing your mind from the sexual tension emanating between you and Dean.

But you weren’t about to be the first one to crack.

You tilted your head and sauntered toward him, noticing the way his eyes shamelessly raked over your figure and lingered on the sway of your hips. An impish smirk played on his lips as he waited for you to retaliate.

“That shirt looks great on you. As a matter of fact...” You paused, voice soft and sultry as you skimmed your fingers over his broad chest. “So would I.” 

“I bet you would. Y’know, if you’re ever feeling down...I’d be happy to feel you up.”

“Well, Dean, I know you’re busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list?”

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I don’t feel like doing anything today—except you. I’d do you.”

“I might just have to take you up on that. So, is that a mirror in your pants?” You snaked your arms around his waist, slipping your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Because I can see myself in them.”

“Were you gonna send me an invitation for the party between your legs in the mail, or are you gonna give it to me in person?”

You tossed your head back, bursting into a sudden fit of laughter. “That one was kind of terrible.”

“Yeah, well—if you could read my mind, you’d need a shower and a cigarette. Sometimes things get a little jumbled when, you know...”

“You’re too busy daydreaming about bending me over every piece of furniture in this place?”

“Exactly. It’s like you can read my mind.” His forest green eyes glided to your lips, lingering briefly before he gazed at you from beneath his long lashes. “Now, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a dirty mind like mine?”

“Maybe I’m not as nice as you think. Life is always a little more fun when you’re a little more...naughty.”

His smug attitude softened as he pulled you closer, playfully squeezing your hips with his large hands. He traced his fingertips along the edge of your jaw, gazing at you thoughtfully as his thumb caressed your chin. Each action was gentle and unhurried, conveying a deep sense of adoration. 

“Can I borrow a kiss?” he murmured. “I promise I’ll give it back.”

You swallowed thickly, captivated by his gravelly voice. You could just imagine the obscene noises he’d make if the two of you just...gave in. The sincere praises he’d whisper in your ear with each languid roll of his hips, while the weight of his robust frame pinned you to the mattress. The guttural sounds that would surely spill from his lips if you asked him to fuck you against the wall—rough and animalistic. The strangled moans you might hear if you dropped to your knees and sucked his cock like the good girl you desperately wanted to be for him. Not to mention the tantalizing ways he could call out your name...

Husky. Dripping with so much lust, it could make your toes curl before his calloused hands even grazed your skin.

A breathless plea. Soft and rich with devotion. A longing sigh that tickled your skin.

Firm and authoritative. Something that made you crumple to your knees, eager to obey his every command...

Dean curled a finger under your chin, tilting your face up as he raised an eyebrow. “Bowing out already? ‘Cause I was just getting started.”

“Not a chance.” Wracking your brain for another line, you ghosted your fingertips up and down his bicep, noticing the way he shuddered. “You know, I might not go down in history, but I’ll definitely go down on you.”

“In that case, I’ll kiss you in the rain so you get twice as wet.”

Realizing the bar had been raised a notch, you bit your lip and decided to push the conversation a step further. You carded your fingers through his hair, tugging on his locks and massaging his scalp every so often. His eyes fluttered closed and you continued the ministrations a little longer, feeling a twinge of pride at having the brave and mighty Dean Winchester melt beneath your touch.

“Hey, Dean...” He hummed lazily in response. “I have 206 bones in my body. Want to give me another one?”

His eyes snapped open, making the suggestive smile you wore twitch in amusement. His gaze was slightly unfocused, but it grew darker as he considered the idea.

“Well, are you a doctor? ‘Cause I’ve got a bone for you to examine—a big one I might add. Maybe it’s exactly what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe. I was feeling pretty off today, but you turned me on.”

“I’ve got a dirty mind. And, right now, you’re running through it...naked.”

“Running’s not really my style. Are you a trampoline, though? Because I wanna bounce on you.”

His lips parted as he gazed down at you, undoubtedly imagining the same scenario as you. His breath trembled, erratic puffs tickling your skin as he exhaled. You could feel the warmth of his body, your torso now flush with his, not realizing the two of you had continued gravitating toward each other. 

Before you could get too caught up in the moment, Dean let out a low whistle. “I gotta be honest, Y/N—I love the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “So, uh...i-is your name Medusa? Because you’re making me rock hard.”

You shivered involuntarily, deeply affected by the gritty edge in his tone. You clenched at his words and pressed your thighs together, unable to mask how much you enjoyed his dirty line. How much it turned you on, pretending you were the reason he was “rock hard.” 

Knowing the two of you were dangerously close to crossing the line you’d been flirting with, you squirmed out of his arms and took a step back.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing at his crotch before briefly meeting your eyes again. “I’m officially uncomfortable now. Thank you.” 

“I guess that’s a sign I’m winning.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”  

He focused his attention on a nearby chair, trying to appear nonchalant as he shoved a brazen hand down his pants to adjust himself. When his hand reemerged, you licked your lips upon seeing the large bulge in jeans.

“Are you sure about that?” You inched forward, standing toe-to-toe with him as you slowly dragged your hand down his chest and stomach. “Because it looks you’ve got a situation going on. Maybe you should admit I’m right so you can go take care of it.”

“He may have a mind of his own, but my dick and my willpower are two entirely different things. Besides...you’re the one staring. Maybe you should admit I’m winning so you can help me take care of it.”

Although you had expected a cheeky comeback, his words didn’t match his constrained demeanor. There was an air of submission in his tone—like he was secretly leaving it up to you to end all of this. To make the first move and put you both out of your misery.

He was putty in your hands, and both of you knew it.

You leaned into him, briefly nuzzling his neck as you molded your body against his. While holding his gaze, you traced the outline of his erection with your finger and firmly palmed it through his jeans. His knees buckled and he let out a strangled moan, leaning heavily against the wall behind him for support. His lashes fluttered, struggling to stay open as his carnal eyes swept over your face. You couldn’t help but smirk, relishing the way his tongue wet his lips before he captured the bottom one between his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to have his mouth lavish your skin with any act of passion he saw fit…

Warm, needy open-mouthed kisses that could make you arch against him. Gentle, featherlight kisses that would surely give you chills. Sharp, playful nips with his teeth that made you shiver with anticipation, just thinking about how he could mark you. And his tongue—oh, the ways he’d make you come undone with his tongue alone. 

“Hey, Dean...” you whispered, leaning forward to suck his earlobe between your teeth. He groaned softly, chest heaving with each ragged breath he took.

“Yeah?”

“Even though you’re not a dentist...I bet you could give me a filling.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. Dean tipped his head back, a faint thud making him flinch when he bumped the wall.

“Oh!” You automatically reached out to rub his head, and began cackling with guilt. “Crap, Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he panted as he hungrily surveyed you with a grin. “This game isn’t gonna end well for either of us...but the whole middle part is gonna be awesome.”

For the TALK 30 TO ME CELEBRATION: @atc74 @alleiradayne

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[ask-2p-hetaliaaa]

Hey there again! I really like your scenarios! and i have a request

What about the countries with an introverted, musician/ mussically cultured s/o?

2ps with an introverted musician s/o!

Throwing a 1p in here real quick because Roderich would be all over you just saying

Allen: Surprisingly, he loves dating introverts as much as extroverts! He pleas to combine something 'epic' with something 'boring' (his words not mine), such as breaking into a vinyl record shop at night. pure of heart, dumb of ass, as they say.

Matt: Plays campfire songs with his guitar for you, hoping he impresses you. Acts lowkey, but he thinks you're so awesome. Name a Canadian artist other than Justin Bieber and he'll be so happy.

Francois: "Can you play Traditionell Musette?" (if you actually do it he'll cry)

Oliver: He thinks you're so cool!! England has a history very rooted in music, so he'd love to talk with you about it! You may even be able to get him back into his pastel punk phase from the 80s 😳Ambient and classical music also calm him down when he's anxious

Viktor: I mean he's really the same so

Xiao: "DO YOU KNOW YI JIAN MEI?" He's actually a really good singer, and is totally down for singing with you!

Luciano: "As long as you don't bass boost everything, I'm fine." He used to live with Roland and has pseudo trauma towards rock music because of that gremlin of a man

Flavio: "This will be great for my brand! How fast can we produce a hit single under my name? It needs to be flashy and extravagant. Don't worry, you can stay on the sidelines where no one can see you in the music video shoot."

Lutz: German music is SO GOOD, bro, he's going to introduce you to Von Wegen Lisbeth, Hund am Strand, and Dota Kehr IMMEDIATELY

Kuro: Begs you to teach him western songs because he can't stand hearing another beat of j-pop

Gillen: Wants you to teach him flute, because asking Gilbert for help was useless; they both ended up crying over Fritz whenever they tried to practice.

Roland: Kind of a douche at first because he thinks he's high and mighty in his guitar skills, but he swallows his pride and asks you to teach him piano (to fuck with Roderich OF COURSE)

Andres: Shyly wants to tango and slow dance with you to different songs <3

Egil: "That's adorable! What's your favorite song? Or songs?" He lets you open up and talk for hours about your skills and interests on the musical subject.

Loki: Takes your hand and leads you to the music room of the Nordic mansion. Pianos, percussion, brass, strings, you name it! They even have instruments from ANCIENT times stored in there.

Magnus: Is mainly interested in you working with the ancient aforementioned instruments. Will help you restore them and then teach you how they were played

Bernard: Is currently banging on Roderich's door boasting about how you're a better musician than him. Their accents arguing makes it funnier.

"Can you sing ABBA?"

Thurston: Doesn't think much of it, just sees it as your interest. Will secretly listen to your singing/playing from out of sight; just leans against the wall and smiles.

Hermes: "Have you ever heard of bardcore?" Then probably spouts on about how "music brings people's souls together.." "music is the key to happiness..."

Franciszek: Hums songs you recommend him as he goes about his day

Anastasia: Listens to everything you have to say about your interest in music! She will do ballroom dances to songs you play

Katya: Asks you to make her a bunch of playlists, of course

Egor: "Can you make EDM?"

Raimonds: He knows how to play the bells, and would be interested in being taught the drums

Leonas: He actually sings country-type music in his free time! He'll get you guys a gig at a honky tonk and do a duet with you for the crowd!

Romeo: Tiktok dances, i'm so sorry

[clankryze511]

The Search for Ezra

Story by @ofhisbridgerways on Instagram Edited by me

Sometime had past since the Ghost Crew, and a band of rebels had liberated the planet of Lothal, Ezra had set the final plan in motion into freeing his home world from total Emperial Lockdown, as he was in a desolate location in the unknown region as he awoke after he had been knocked unconscious after dropping out from hyperspace, he would look around, as he limped into a cave where he managed to keep himself warm, and fully immense himself into the force, as he would meditate, knowing that Sabine would find him. The two had grown so close before the Final battle of Lothal, to liberate the system, he had complete faith in the fact that she would one day find him, and bring him back home. He also had this strange feeling anytime that she entered his thoughts, though they were friends, he felt something more than being just friends, as he cleared his mind. Sabine reminisced on some of the old days, back when Kanan was among their numbers. Back before when they were simply six against a mighty Empire that reigned across the galaxy. Simpler times in a way, they have long passed and now the Empire was finally gone... not just from Lothal, but from everywhere. From the farthest reaches of Tatooine, to the shining cities of Coruscant. Still no sign of Ezra, but she’s looking... she hasn’t given up on him yet. It was funny, the two had come a long way in the terms of relationship. First, she knew him as the Kid. Now, he was probably one of her closest friends... closer than she would ever imagine. If someone were to tell her years back that she would become friends with some blue haired kid that would become a great friend... she admits, she would probably be skeptical. Not that it truly matters now. Sometimes, she could swear there was more to their relationship than she thought. Maybe that was just her brain going off of stupid things... maybe not, emotions can be weird, for the most part. She stood up, helmet at her side. She’ll find him, she had to.

As Ezra meditate, he had a vision that showed him the fact there was one ship that wasnt damaged nearby, that had a working transmitter, to perhaps send off a distress signal, or some sort of communication, that he only hoped could reach Sabine, and be able to help her find him. He then sat and thought to himself "I know I can always count on you, Sabine. Don't give up hope on finding me." He then would mutter words under his breath, not realizing that he was saying this in a transmission, nor out loud "I love you.." as the transmission was sent in a rather quick way, though surprising to Ezra, he was certain that no one would receive the transmission, as he bandaged his shoulder up from where Thrawn had shot him, before the two left Lothal. Sabine sat at the control console of the ship, it wasn’t the Ghost... but it was something so she could have some privacy. Somewhere she can vent her thoughts, almost like her room was. Decorative drawings were scattered around the interior, some unfinished and some barely drawn. The search for Ezra still consumed most of her mental facilities, the Jedi was unique... funny, sometimes, but he was a friend she could count on. Now, more than ever, he was counting on her to bring him home. She wasn’t sure where Thrawn was, or even what his fate was...but damn that Chiss. Even if he lived, she didn’t doubt that Ezra would’ve dealt with him by now. Probably would’ve been difficult without his lightsaber, but not impossible. The Mandalorian perked up at the sudden beeping on the console, staring at the lightsaber that laid above it, untouched by her artistic hand. Even if she had inspiration... she couldn’t bring herself to spray over it, a rarity in her life. Though he felt weak, he didn't give up hope knowing that soon Sabine would be there to rescue him, and bring him back home, and nothing would stop her. He knew in his heart the Mandalorian would come and bring him back to where he belonged. He had also learned in the force to send a telepathic message to those not strong in the ways of the force, as he used more strength to send a message to Sabine "Please... I am here, you've been on this planet before..." Before he passed out from exhaustion, as he had a strenuous battle, and over-strangulating his abilities in the force, as he was kept warm, so he could be kept alive. Sabine heard the plea for help, the transmission playing like a spark of hope over an open fire of space. Her fingers moved without thought, pruning up the engines. This was the first time she has heard from Ezra in a long time, her eyes sharp and focused on tracing back the transmission. The last words played on and she felt her heart do flips, she was uncertain what this feeling was. She brushed off her current thoughts, managing to find a general location. And what it said, shocked her... the Unknown Regions. That’s a bit far, but she didn’t give it too much thought, only precise calculations. She just hoped that it wasn’t within a black hole, but honestly... she had a good feeling about this. “I won’t break my promise.” She vocalized, putting in the coordinates and making the jump. As he heard her reply, from the vastness of being in the Unknown Region, a small smile formed upon the now older Jedi, whom still held out hope that the one he cared about more than anything in the universe, would find him soon, and that he could be reunited with her once more. Though he always had feelings for her, they had seemed to grow stronger as they got older, and got to do more missions together, as he felt a tear fall from his eyes, reminiscing about how things were with Kanan, before he was able to regain himself, and sit up against the side of the ship, patiently awaiting the one woman in his life to appear before him. The stars zoomed by, quick and almost as if they were long lines. Though to Sabine, it was slow... too slow. There was no time to waste, no time to mess around. Her brain currently on overdrive as she ran a hand through her now shorter hair, every sound almost audible aboard the ship. There were few people that weren’t family that she would to the ends of the Galaxy to find... Ezra topping that list. Despite how closed off she was at the beginning, he cared and tried to talk to her. Despite how much of an ass she could be, he still tried to be her friend... and in a time when her clan hated. Ketsu had left and when she felt she couldn’t trust anyone, it was special. Really special. The ship soon left hyperspace, breaking her from her thoughts and memories. Ezra would then open his eyes completely as he sensed a ship coming out of hyperspace, as he knew without a question, it was in fact Sabine, who heard his pleas for help, as he felt a sense of almost having butterflies in his stomach, it had been nearly a decade or so since he'd seen the Mandalorian, and he held so many questions within him, but he remained calm, and found his center, as he got back into the ship, as he awaited the ship to land near him, as he knew she was close. The Only thing that the Jedi could do now, was wait, and trust in his friend, but more importantly, he knew that once they reunited, that he would have to reveal a hidden feeling to her, unsure of what her reaction might be. Sabine placed her helmet on her head, sending a ping out to any active transmitter in the area. Her stomach curled with worry for the guy that she cared about, who sacrificed himself for Lothal. Her fingers tightened on the ship’s controls without her knowledge, as she awaited a ping. The cold expanse of space was unfeeling, yet she knew that Ezra was near. He had to be... she took a deep breath to calm herself. The Mandalorian anxiously waited for some transmission to spark back, something... anything. Even if it was some lame pick up line that came through. Then, truly pinpointing where he was would be easier than paint... well, that was an exaggeration, barely anything flows together than the Spray Can she still carries with her. With a renewed strength, he sent another transmission, stating this time "Tell me how much you've missed me now." As a small smile creased the Jedi's lips, as he awaited the response, as he looked at the scanner and picked up a ship coming in close to his proximity, as he paused feeling tears run down his face, as he did not forget about Sabine, the undeniable love of his life, though he never admitted it to her, because he was afraid of falling in love, after his parents were close within reach to him, prior to his sacrifice. He dropped to a knee in pure joy knowing that he was found, and still was alive. “A lot, dork.” Sabine said, keeping the positive emotions from overwhelming her. It has been a while since she had heard Ezra’s voice, and it was like no time had passed. “I’m on approach.” She said, hands moving to bring the ship to Ezra’s location. She didn’t bother to ask about Thrawn, fingers flipping over the landing gear. She felt the ship land, ground meeting metal once again... well, for the first time in a few hours. Once landed, she sprinted from her seat, purpose in mind. This was a moment in both dreams and nightmares... for fear that Ezra could be dead. That fear, fortunately has passed... and Sabine has never been happier to hear his voice. Relief and happiness have made themselves known in her mind. As he saw lights of a ship come into his view, The older Jedi now stood up from being in the ship, appearing on the side, as he saw her for the very first time since they were on Lothal, as he couldn't help himself, he would run off towards the Mandalorian, no worries in the world. He sensed her emotion, and the joy she had in her angelic eyes, as he ran up towards her, as a smile came across his face, before wrapping his arms around the woman that stole his heart, and his face buried into her neck, he would speak to her for the first time since their final encounter on Lothal. "You cut your hair, to resemble mine hm?" For the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime, he felt like a normal person, and not just a Jedi. But to Sabine, he knew he obviously meant more to her than before. “Yeah, it helped.” Sabine admitted, arms tightly wrapped around Ezra. Her armor had changed once again, now with bits and pieces of all the armor types she wore over the years. All combined into one neat new color scheme, “It’s great to see you again.” The Mandalorian managed, fingers holding onto the fabric of Ezra’s clothes tightly. A reassurance, that this was real... very real. Practically a dream come true in a way, a recurring one to be exact. She let her lips curl into a huge grin, relief washing over her. She can almost remember some of the sleepless nights she had while searching. The cold stars her company, the others were there to help when they can. Now within the arms of the Mandalorian whom he grew close to, he would whisper in her ear for the first time in a long time, and what felt right to him at that time "I love you." as he looked into her eyes, seeing the relief, and at the same time, seeing her emotion at seeing him for the first time, since he nearly heard the heartbreak in her voice when she begged him to not be in the Star Destroyer when they liberated Lothal years prior; he would then say to her with a completely confident feeling amongst him, knowing that he could be honest with her. "I've waited so long to be able to ask you this, Sabine. But I would like to give you one single kiss. If you'd allow it." The Jedi paused for a moment, as he held her in his arms, knowing she felt a sense of comfort and security with him being around again. “I know, and I love you too.” Sabine said, staring Ezra in the eyes. Blue orbs that always seem to beam with friendliness and some form of positivity. Her thoughts drifted back to the past once more, specifically all the time she and Ezra spent together. From the first words - they spoke to each other to the Battle of Lothal. Her mind snapped back to reality, hearing the next words the Jedi said. He was taller, now no longer being the shortest of the non-droid members of the Ghost. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She admitted, time itself seeming to slow down - as a small breeze blew by. The air not cold, just a nice amount of cool. Her heart began to beat faster in her chest, ready for this to happen. As the two stood in between the ships, Ezra leaned in as his lips connected with Sabine's. Sabine kissed back It felt like time stopped as his lips connected with hers, allowing himself to be in the moment, with no one saying anything to him, as he realized that she was the only one that meant - more than the well-being of himself. He learned more as he was stranded on a planet, but one thing remained the same, and that was that he fell in love with the Mandalorian, who at first was indeed an ass to him, but he felt even closer to her than even his own parents, since - he had been on his own, prior to meeting the Ghost Crew. He looked into her eyes, and said "Lets go back to Lothal, my love." “Yeah, Lothal... it has changed for the better. The sky’s no longer polluted.” She said, remembering it rebuilding as she and the others watched over it. No Imperials decided to take the planet back, thankfully. Ezra looked Sabine in her eyes, as he spoke to her " I sense your trembling.. whats troubling you." The Jedi could sense a overwhelming amount of emotion coming over the Mandalorian as he felt tears from her face on his hands before he stopped to ask her once more, this time - with a little more of a worried tone to his voice. "Whats wrong, Sabine?" Sabine took a moment, taking deep breaths in an attempt to reign in her emotions. All nice feelings just bubbling at the forefront of her mind, it was as if a part of her knew this moment would be assured... and it has. “Just... kind of overwhelmed, y’know?” She admitted, eyes continuing to stare into Ezra’s, a hand moving to the back of her neck. The good kind of overwhelmed, thankfully. "Is it because you found me?" The Jedi looked into his loves eyes, noticing that she couldn't stop smiling at him. He then would reply with another promise, this time managing to hold Sabines hand, before kneeling down, looking up at her as a smile creased his lips before he said "And I promise for today, and everyday for the rest of our lives to be the best man I can be for you. I love you, my queen”.

[nashycraft]

OH MIGHTY TUMBLER USING TF FANS HEAR MY PLEA

At this point and time we need a aspirering artist that can make what is to be greatness

Shatter and dropkick as Jessie and james

I will pay who ever will do this in hugs and tons of graditude

[selfless1978]

So, occasionally I just sit by myself, and listen to music. All varieties. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have no favorite artist, but favorite songs for certain situations. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve connected songs to my stories, and RPs. This, is one that hit me deeply when I listened to it.

Now, before I continue with this story, I have to thank @ravenousterrapin for giving me the chance to play this version of Vicky in our RP. But, in order to do that, I had to come up with an origin story for her in this RP, because she gets her wings and water powers from a completely different event in my stories. But, the core concept is going to be the same. Vicky is still a fighter, but for an unimaginable army…..

Here, is how I imagine her ascension to elemental water angle in this particular story.

Refusing to break

Vicky had never been so scared in her life. 

It was chaos. The chaos of war.

The battle raged. All around her, gunfire rang out. Mortars struck the ground. There was screaming, cries of the injured, still bodies of the already dead. Her team leader was down below, in the passenger seat as he frantically screamed into the radio for air support. Vicky couldn’t make out the words over the sound of her m249 blasting out the rounds, trying desperately to pin their ambushers down to buy them time. Time, that Vicky and her team finally ran out of. 

The mortar came in, she saw it coming, screamed out a warning. But instinctively knew it was over….

Everything was over….

“I love you Mom, Dad. And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry Amy. That I couldn’t do anything to change this world…” A single tear slid down her 21 year old cheek. The last she would ever shed.

Then the round hit, and everything was pain and fire.

I will have to die for this I fear There’s rage and terror and there’s sickness here I fight because I have to I fight for us to know the truth

She wasn’t alone. 

Even as she floated in the darkness, she knew she wasn’t alone.

Vicky wasn’t sure what this was, but it was dark, empty. Cold and foreboding.

She didn’t want to be here. It was lonely.

“This is what happens to those who lose all faith in everything.” A gentle woman’s sounded next to her. “They hold no faith, and therefore become restless souls. Peace can be found here, yes, but this is not the kind of peace a tortured soul deserves.”

“Who are you?” Vicky was beyond confused, but, she had to admit, with the voice came a soothing warmth.

“Someone who can offer you a chance to live again. For you to relearn faith and hope. But it comes with conditions.”

“Like what?” 

“You may never visit your family. You will not be the same, and your sudden reappearance after your fiery death will only upset them. None of humanity may know of your existence. You must remain hidden from them. But, there is one who strongly feels you can do great good and wonders if you accept. Her faith in you is unwavering.”

The long haired brunette sighed and shook her head. “How do you expect me to accept when you hide behind nothing and talk to me in riddles. I’m to tired of life to deal with more manipulation.”

There was a glow. A golden pinprick of light that reminded her of sunshine. It slowly grew, shifting from an orb of light into a female figure. A woman emerged, a small frame that held Asian features. “I, am Amaterasu, Goddess of the sun. And with the power of sun, I can give you hope. A promise of new beginnings, just as each day is reborn. The sun, is much more than a source of light, child, it’s light give hope to those who fear the dark. It is the base of life, and the reason life flourishes.” 

The woman reached out and stroked Vicky’s hair, sympathy and empathy in her expression. “But light can not do it alone. It needs help of the elements. Water to feed life, fire to burn the dead away to clear area for new, earth for the seeds to sprout, and winds to carry the seeds. That is how life is sustained so all may thrive.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

“Because you have the strength to become a champion of light. To fight against the darkness that consumes everything. I believe in you, and so does Amy. It was her plea that led me to you after your death.”

“A-amy?” Even here, Vicky teared up. Missing her childhood friend so much, and reliving the guilt of her death.

“You can do this Vicky.” 

Vicky’s eyes widened as another form appeared. There she was, the friend she had lost and mourned…. A trembling hand covered her stunned mouth before tears over whelmed her. “I am so sorry, I should of said something sooner… I could have stopped him, I could have……”

“Vicky, stop.” Those bright hazel eyes crinkled at the corners with a gentle smile as she cupped Vicky’s chin, lifting it so the woman had to face the child. “You did nothing wrong. So many have tried to tell you that, but you still held that burden tight to your heart. I’m finally figuring out that you’ll never let it go, so, do this for me then if you feel the need to make it up to me.” Amy’s gentle smile turned into a mischievous grin. “I remember how much you wished to be able to fly…. You’ll get that chance.”

And with those cryptic words, Vicky’s friend once more left, and only Amaterasu remained. 

Vicky stared long and hard at where Amy had been, taking deep breaths to calm herself, then she looked at the Goddess with calm, determined features. “I accept.”

Amaterasu nodded, her smile wide. “Then let us begin.”

There’s not enough rope to tie me down There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth The stones you throw can make me bleed But I won’t stop until we’re free Wild hearts can’t be broken No, wild hearts can’t be broken

The next sensation she felt was water. Her soul had been gently guided from that black void, and she found herself underneath the gently rippling waves. Watching in awe as the beams of sunlight pierced the depths around her. Fish, large and small, swam. A shark’s appearance scattered them and she could hear the distant cry of a whale. 

She was in the vast ocean, seeing it’s true beauty for the first time. Not what was on the surface, but what was underneath. 

‘All this beauty is in danger.’ Vicky couldn’t see her, but the voice in her head was Amaterasu’s. ‘Demons of the dark realm, the hells of all religions, begin to stir. Wanting to claim this world as theirs, and destroying it.’

‘I won’t let them.’

“I know. This kind of fight runs deep in you. You have always fought for the reasons you feel right. Your heart loves this world, even if your mind struggles with pain and disappointment. You are much like water. Can be calm and serene, but when given proper reason and abilities, you can unleash a storm. You have always been close to water.’ 

Vicky smiled, remembering all the times she went swimming, her parents always having to threaten severe punishments to get her out.

‘And now? Now, my new champion, it will be forever bound to you, and be at your beck and call.’

This is my rally cry I know it’s hard, we have to try This is a battle I must win To want my share is not a sin

Vicky could not describe the sensation. There were no words to describe it. 

She could feel her body grow more substantial, taking it’s shape again. But also, the water around her began to move. Flowing slowly around her at first, but it ever quickened. A vortex surrounding her. her long hair was swirling around her wildly as the water raged. then, she could feel it merging, becoming a part of her. She could feel the need to breath air as her lungs reformed, change to accepting the water’s own form of nourishment to keep her alive. While under the surface, the water supplied her body with the oxygen it carried in it’s own make up.

Vicky closed her eyes, accepting the transformation. She began to glow, a bright blue beacon under the waves. The aquatic wildlife that had swan calmly before, now fled in fright as her body formed more and more, until, she was once again solid. She was alive.

There’s not enough rope to tie me down There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth The stones you throw can make me bleed But I won’t stop until we’re free Wild hearts can’t be broken No, wild hearts can’t be broken

Still, the goddess wasn’t finished with her.

Suddenly, almost violently, wing bones exploded out of Vicky’s back. Flaring wide as muscles, tendons, and finally skin settled into deep blue feathers rapidly beginning to grow and fill out. Armor forged of water appeared on her body, encasing her body in it’s protection. And a sword formed in her hand, it’s sheath at her waist.

And with them, Vicky was given the knowledge how to use her wings, she was shown how to fly.

She could fly….

A small tear of awe spurned on by Amy’s final statement was lost into the vast pool of fluid around her.

She could fly….

You beat me, betray me You’re losing, we’re winning My spirit above me You cannot deny me My freedom is burning This broken world keeps turning I’ll never surrender There’s nothing, but a victory

She burst through the waves. The glow flaring one bright time before it faded. Water spreading around her in a halo as she emerged, wings wide spread, her new armor glistening in the sun as the water drops fell down her frame. In her right hand, a blade. Blue as the clearest sea, and sharp enough to fell many of the most resistant demon world foes. 

Vicky raised her face to the sun as she hovered, eyes closed as she felt the light breeze against her face, stirring her hair. Then she slowly opened them. They flared a brilliant blue for just a moment, before the woman smiled. With a mighty flap of her wings, she shot into the skies. To rejoin her mistress at her mountain home, and await the first call of alarm to be sounded.

Once more the battle would rage.

This time, Vicky welcomed it.

There’s not enough rope to tie me down There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth The stones you throw can make me bleed But I won’t stop until we’re free Wild hearts can’t be broken Wild hearts can’t be broken This wild heart can’t be broken

[archeo-starwars]

Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Warfare Author’s Cut, Part 2 – Ancient Coruscant

THE BATTALIONS OF ZHELL AND THE TAUNGS

Jason Fry: As published, Warfare offers a translation of the best-known section of  Dha Werda Verda, an epic about the ancient battle between the Zhell and the Taungs. This “modern” exploration of the Zhell and Taungs was fun, and I liked how it connected the ancient era with the Mandalorians and the Empire. But it risked feeling redundant — and with Warfare way too long already, it was a logical cut.

Erich Schoeneweiss: I think it’s important to note the circumstances that led to some of the edits we had to make. The last thing I wanted to do was cut anything Jason wrote, but he was contracted to deliver a manuscript at a specific word count and far exceeded that. If this had been a novel that wouldn’t have been as a big an issue, but the Essential Guides are illustrated full-color books. We have a tight budget and set of book specifications we work with, and page count is one of those key specs. A longer manuscript means more pages, which means the book costs more to produce. Jason made some edits on his own and submitted the manuscript knowing we would have to make some more. It was a collaborative effort in deciding on the additional cuts, and this is one of them.

Reprinted From Imperial Center Today, 2 ABY:

A LONG TIME AGO…

The Zhell and the Taungs Are Names to Conjure By, But the Truth About These Long-Lost Combatants Is Hard to Pin Down

By Eschul Shaywa

The Zhell and the Taungs have been powerful names here on Imperial Center nearly as long as civilization has existed on our planet — and that’s an awfully long time. Their names adorn ancient neighborhoods that claim some connection to long-ago battles, as well as new developments whose builders want a patina of tradition for their durasteel and clari-crystalline palaces.

But how much do you really know about these ancient warriors? Talk to scholars, and they tell you the only thing clear about the Zhell and the Taungs is just how unclear their histories are. But that isn’t to say we know nothing: Researchers on several worlds are working tirelessly to knit together scraps of legend and bits plucked from archaeological discoveries, in hopes of one day reconstructing the ancient chronicles.

The outlines of what happened some 200,000 years ago are known to every schoolchild: The 13 nations that made up the Battalions of Zhell spent centuries clashing with the forces of the Taungs. During one of their skirmishes, a volcanic eruption destroyed the city of Zhell, shattering the Battalions’ power. The assembled Taungs watched in awe as ash blotted out the sun and rained down upon them. Taking their opponents’ destruction as a sign of divine favor, the Taungs christened themselves Dha Werda Verda, the Shadow Warriors, and celebrated their victory in the epic poem of the same name.

In its entirety, Dha Werda Verda encompasses more than 700 verses divided into 11chapters and written in the language known as Notron Cant, whose subtleties continue to defy translation. But most people know only a fraction of the ninth — the 10 verses popularly known as “The Maker Comes to Unmake.” No matter what school, junior academy or crèche you belonged to, if you’re Coruscanti you either memorized the strange syllables of these 10 verses for recitation or had a schoolmate who did.

But there’s something odd about our veneration of an ancient epic, notes University of Byblos historian Mesh Burzon.

“We believe the Zhell were humans — perhaps the original human population that took to the stars when Imperial Center was known as Notron,” Burzon says. “The Taungs were not human. If the account of the destruction of Zhell is even vaguely accurate, it was a monumental disaster for humanity. So what you have is the descendents of those who survived a near-extinction reciting the poem their oppressors composed to celebrate the event.”

As Burzon explains, the Zhell nations were battered by the loss of their capital, but not broken: They recovered and drove the Taungs off Notron entirely. The Taungs emigrated to the Outer Rim and eventually settled Mandalore, named for a legendary clan leader. From this new homeworld they became the scourge of the Republic, routinely raiding its outlying worlds and sometimes penetrating the very Core.

The Mandalorian clans valued loyalty to their ferocious warrior code above all else, a quality that would eventually transform their society. A later leader, Mandalore the Ultimate, admitted humans and other species to the Mandalorian ranks. As it turned out, Mandalore the Ultimate was the final Taung to lead the clans.

“The Taungs are now extinct, but their ways have been preserved by the Mandalorians — a human culture, ironically enough,” Burzon notes.

Hu Jibwe, scholar of military history at the Salmagodro Grand Academy, notes that there is another song popularly known as “Dha Werda Verda” — the Mando’a war chant known as “Rage of the Shadow Warriors.” During the Clone Wars, some Mandalorian trainers taught this chant to their clones, and it became a hallmark of those units. It’s rarely performed today, so if you have a chance to see it, take advantage: The chant and ritual dance are mesmerizing, particularly if the dancers follow Mandalorian tradition and drum out the rhythm on the chest or back of those next to them:

The ash of the Taung beats strong within the Mandalorians’ heart. We are the rage of the Warriors of the Shadow, The first noble sons of Mandalore. Let all those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still.

The gauntlet of Mandalore strikes without mercy. We are the rage of the Warriors of the Shadow, The first noble sons of Mandalore. Let all those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still.

But as Hu notes, “Rage” is far more recent than Dha Werda Verda. The best-preserved record of the Taung epic poem, written in Notron Cant and housed in the Baobab Archives on distant Manda, contains none of the verses of “Rage.”

“It’s my belief that ‘Rage of the Shadow Warriors’ dates from the reign of Mandalore the Ultimate, when the Taungs knew they were being eclipsed,” Hu explains. “I’ve always thought it a poignant work — a plea that the Taungs not be forgotten by the newborn culture they knew would outlive them.”

But what of the warriors on both sides whose valor is remembered in Dha Werda Verda? Of them we know almost nothing, academics say.

“Two hundred thousand years is an almost unfathomable amount of time,” says Arhul Manaxa, scholar emeritus at the University of Rudrig. “Not even the histories of the Columi date back that far. There is no agreement whatsoever about the site of Zhell, when exactly the battle took place, or if it even did. All has been buried — by kilometers of city and eons of time.”

Manaxa notes that many scholars have struggled to explain how the Taungs could have emigrated from Imperial Center to the Outer Rim after their defeat.

“We know of no species able to travel through hyperspace 200,000 years ago,” Manaxa says. “This leaves us with a few different possible explanations, none of which can be proven or disproven. Perhaps the Taungs were capable of faster-than-light travel, and invaded Imperial Center. Or perhaps the Taungs were native to Coruscant, and the Zhell were the invaders. Perhaps the dates are wrong, and the conflict in fact took place far later, when the Core was being explored by the eldest species of the galaxy. Or perhaps it never happened at all.”

Nor, says Hu, can we say anything about the Battalions of Zhell, or the Taung legions that confronted them.

“When enthusiasts stage recreations of the battle they tend to use replica great axes and swords known from the excavation of Taung burial sites on Roon,” he says. “But by the time the Taungs reached Roon these were ritual objects — species capable of traveling through hyperspace don’t still rely on edged weapons. Nor do you find such weapons still used by societies as sophisticated as the Zhell nations. It’s as if you staged a recreation of the Siege of Ramsir with the Imperial Army limited to parade sabers.”

Hu says he knows it may be unromantic to imagine the confrontation at Zhell occurring between armies that possessed aircraft and atomic weapons. But he urges us to look deeper and examine the qualities of Dha Werda Verda that have kept the poem alive for eons.

“All we have is a poem, but what a poem!” he says. “The image of the Maker appearing to unmake the world has inspired artists for as long as artists have existed. The mere names of the generals awaken something within us: What schoolchild hasn’t felt his heart race at the mention of Rexutu the Unconquerable or Olhak the Reaver, or mourned the inevitable downfall of the mighty and noble Doom of Ulmarah?”

In case the words of academics don’t stir you, let me close with a more personal story. I recently attended a performance of “Rage of the Shadow Warriors” alongside Swart Swifto, who served as a trainer for the Grand Army of the Republic and later the Imperial Center Guard.

After the final shouted dralshy’a died away, I told Swifto about the latest academic thinking about the Zhell, the Taungs and Dha Werda Verda. I was curious to see what this veteran defender of Imperial Center would think about the irony of a Taung war poem giving rise to a Mandalorian tradition, and that tradition in turn being passed on by Imperial Center’s guardians.

Swifto shook his head impatiently at me.

“I hear what you’re saying, Miss Shaywa, but none of that is important,” he said. “It doesn’t matter that the poem was composed by some Taung, or that Taung wanted to kill an ancestor of ours, or what weapon he wanted to do it with or what language he spoke. The Taungs and the Zhell were enemies, but they were also part of a brotherhood, one that includes all living beings who believe in a higher cause and are willing to fight and die for it. If you’ve been in battle, if you’ve entrusted your life to other soldiers who are just as scared and confused and noble and brave as you are, then you’re a part of that brotherhood. No matter what you look like.”

[winterseidr]

Sumbel

A ceremony that accompanies various rituals.

What it involves is prayers to your patron deity/deities and/or the gods that are the most important to you.

For me, that is Freyja, as well as the Greek god Apollo, but you may substitute these out for others as you wish.

Warning: the prayer to Freyja involves sex and swearing

Supplies:

- drink

1. Say:

“I adore You Freya, Mighty Goddess of the Vanir. 

I adore You, Lady of magic. 

I adore You, most Beautiful. 

I adore You, Mardoll. 

I adore You, lover of the oceans. 

I adore You, Daughter of Njord. 

I adore You, Daughter of Nerthus. 

I adore You, sister of Frey.

I adore You, keeper of Vanic mysteries. 

I adore You, Goddess of love. 

I adore You, ever sought after.

I adore You, hungry for war. 

I adore You, seidhkona.

I adore You, Goddess of sex. 

I adore You, Steeped in eroticism.

I adore You, Ever sensual. 

I adore You, bearer of Brisingamen.

I adore You, Giver of abundance. 

I adore You, Mistress. 

I adore You, Temptation of the Worlds. 

I adore You, fulfillment. 

I adore You, Who inspires hunger.

I adore You, Warrior. 

I adore You, secure in Yourself. 

I adore You, Glorious One. 

I adore You, Confident One.

I adore You, Goddess of amber. 

I adore You, Wife of Odhr. 

I adore You, Mother of Hnoss. 

I adore You, Mother of Gersimi.

I adore You, Who brings forth precious things.

I adore You, Goddess of Delight. 

I adore You, Most Famous. 

I adore You, Most Beloved.

I adore You, wise in sorcerous arts. 

I adore You, Dangerous One. 

I adore You, Who delights in mannsongr. 

I adore You, Goddess of Gold. 

I adore You, Goddess of the orgasm.

I adore You, Ever fierce.

I adore You, Who will not be bound. 

I adore You, Who is best not crossed. 

I adore You, Mistress of Folkvangr. 

I adore You, Who receives in payment half the battle slain. 

I adore You, Who delights the halls of Sessrumnir. 

I adore You, Keeper of the falcon garment. 

I adore You, Who rides astride Hildisvini’s back. 

I adore You, Ever wise. 

I adore You, Ever cunning. 

I adore You, ever independent.

I adore You, friend of Loki. 

I adore You, Who hears the pleas of lovers.

 I adore You, Power. 

I adore You, Dominatrix. 

I adore You, Who delights in travel. 

I adore You, Who delights in seduction. 

I adore You, Who rejoices in the rising cock. 

I adore You, Who rejoices in the sopping cunt.

I adore You, Keeper of many secrets. 

I adore You, Tamer of men. 

I adore You, Friend of women. 

I adore You, Who will not be mocked. 

I adore You, Goddess of fertility. 

I adore You, Goddess of creativity.

I adore You, Goddess of civilization’s pleasures. 

I adore You, Goddess of courtesans. 

I adore You, Goddess of all pleasure workers.

I adore You, Who hears the pleas of women. 

I adore You, Who blesses the midwife.

I adore You, Teacher of magic. 

I adore You, Blotere for the Gods. 

I adore You, beloved of Her Brother. 

I adore You, Who keeps the Vanic rites. 

I adore You, secure in Your sex. 

I adore You, Who makes ready the land. 

I adore you, Who delights in lust.

I adore You, Who arouses the body.

I adore You, Who weeps tears of gold. 

I adore You, surprise of Nidavellir. 

I adore You, Syr. 

I adore You, Gefn. 

I adore You, Horn. 

I adore You, Guardian of the home. 

I adore You, Protector of women. 

I adore You, Who inspires the warrior. 

I adore You, Who inspires the skald.

I adore You, Who maintains the land. 

I adore You, Glorious in the fields. 

I adore You, Generous One. 

I adore You, Courageous One.

I adore You, Who will not be conquered.

I adore You, Lady of Luck. 

I adore You, Lady of Steel.

I adore You, Bestower of Wealth.

I adore You, Giver of many blessings.

I adore You, delight of all the Gods. 

I adore You, Jewel of the worlds. 

I adore You, Many named. 

I adore You, mighty and magnificent. 

I adore You, Vanadis. 

I adore You, Freya.”

2. Drink (not all of it)

3. Say:

“Shining Apollo, bright-haired son of Zeus,

strong of arm and flawless of form, of all the gods

none are your equal in beauty or grace. Apollo,

of Leto were you born on well-favored Delos;

in Athens and in Sparta and in all the lands

were you honored. To you did men and women

offer prayers for health and healing in days of old;

to you did the poets call for inspiration,

O leader of the lovely Muses. Apollo,

driver of all ill and evil from the land,

in Delphi were you served by the faithful Pythia,

with whom you shared your prophecies.

Apollo, never has your glory been forgotten;

throughout the centuries have artists turned to you

for light and vision. Great god, I praise you and your gifts.”

4. Drink (not all of it)

5. Say a litany of names. These are names of ancestors, so important people in your ancestors’ culture (my ancestors were Scandinavian so some people on my litany of names are Beowulf, Snorri Sturluson (author of Prose Edda), Siegurd (legendary hero of Norse mythology), Richard Wagner (composed Ride of the Valkyries, among others), and Arminuis (Germanic hero who may have inspired story of Siegurd))

Drink after you say each name in your litany of names.

6. If you wish to make an oath, speak poetry, or sing a song, do so now.

7. Pour out rest of libation

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Seal Lullaby

In small, isolated, tight knit towns, people tend to talk. And in this town, they talk most about the strange couple that live down in the cottage by the sea. They talk about how they just turned up out of the blue one day, they wonder if they'll ever stop having children, they wonder what it is about them that makes them feel so...odd.

My Selkie AU fic! Thanks so much for all the excitement and support over this, it’s really turning into something I’m proud of and I can’t wait to show you guys it. New chapter every Thursday and comments are really really appreciated. Here it is on Ao3 if that’s more your thing and so many thanks to my phenomenal beta readers @minky-for-short @sassy-laffy @purearcticfire

-

Eliza Schuyler had always been a girl who had one foot in some other world.

She was a ‘daydreamer’. She was always ‘away with the fairies’. She was ‘never quite there’. The ‘lights were on but no one was home’.

There were a lot of ways to say it, most of them dripping with honey sweet condescension that making the obstinately gentle phrases feel a little off, more like thinly disguised insults than anything else. They were muttered to Catherine Schuyler by friends and book club members and distant relatives in just enough of a low voice to make it plain that they didn’t want Eliza to hear but didn’t care that she absolutely could. To make it obvious that they were pointing out a serious flaw but in a delicate way that the girl should really be grateful for.

Eliza was never fooled. She knew exactly what they were saying; that she was strange, weird, an anomaly. That the way she went wandering on long, lonely, meandering walks for hours was unusual. That the way she could sit perfectly still and placid, like some eerily glass like lake, perfectly content inside her own head, made her odd. That the way she devoted herself more to the worlds between the pages of books than the one she physically occupied made her seem disjointed and distant.

But she couldn’t have cared less than if the musty, oddly dressed figures in the antique paintings scattered through the Schuyler mansion had begun wittering about her behind their hands. Eliza knew that this world, this life where everything her parents did had to be carefully calculated and considered for how it would ripple through the political and social circles they swam in, it just wasn’t where she belonged. Her older sister Angelica, one of the few people who understood and appreciated Eliza, apparent flaws and all, had learned to adapt. She found that she could easily navigate the complicated maze that was a life at the centre of the New York political scene, she was born to cut her path through the city with her wit and her charm and her brains. Even Peggy, her younger sister, was warming to it, she liked a life of risk and challenge and god, was the life of a Schuyler a challenge. But Eliza had learned very early on that she wasn’t supposed to be here. She preferred things clear, honest, genuine. She liked to know where she stood and know exactly who she was, she liked softness and calm and clean air. And none of that was here. Here things had to change a hundred times a second, the ground was always shifting underneath everyone’s feet.

Of course, Eliza made her peace with it, she’d had to or spend the rest of her life dissatisfied and she hated any kind of confrontation, it was so unnecessary. But there had always been a part of her that had felt like it was waiting. Though for what, she wasn’t quite sure. For something, for the world she was supposed to be in to come and find her.

She’d almost given up, as her twentieth birthday came to pounce on her and her parents started making noises about settling down, about finding a partner, finding a career. Internships and apprenticeships, whatever the hell ‘networking events’ were, battlegrounds and arenas to find a job that involved a glass panelled office and a mahogany desk and spreadsheets and market research, a husband that involved painfully polite dinners, loaded comments over breakfast and very quiet, formulaic sex. Eliza saw all of this coming and began to panic, seeing no way out before it all came crashing down on her head and drowned her. Her something still hadn’t found her; her lifeline was nowhere in sight.

And then, on an otherwise decidedly unspectacular day, it found her.

Or rather, she stumbled upon it. Nearly tripped over it, as a matter of fact.

Eliza had been going crazy cooped up inside the beach house. So, when the storm finally passed on and some weak sunlight began filtering through the thick, cloying grey clouds and the wind calmed from a furious howl to a vaguely irritated murmur, the instant the weather got over its days long tantrum, she was out of the door. Driven to the brink of insanity having no power, trapped between four walls with her parents constantly needling at her how she really should be attending Mrs Washington’s party next week, it would be useful for her, very beneficial; drowning them out by wishing with all her heart that Angelica hadn’t left on her honeymoon three days ago and Peggy hadn’t wriggled free of the family’s yearly beach vacation with pleas that her finals were coming up. As soon as the storm died down, she kicked back her bedcovers, pulled on some ratty old jeans and a threadbare brown wool jumper, her ever faithful scuffed, clunky boots and ran outside before either of her parents could snag her with a pointed remark. She didn’t even bring a coat, she wanted to feel the cold mist of the morning and the slight wind against her skin.

Eliza felt all her troubles begin to dissipate to some far corner of her mind, almost as soon as her boots began to crunch the dark, pebbly sand and the shore came into view. Everything was grey and cool and a little damp and that was exactly what she loved about it. The landscape looked as if it had been painted by some melancholic artist and Eliza could empathise with them. This was where she wanted to be right now, somewhere that made her shiver and squint a little and just feel a little more alive than she’d felt in a while, alone with the waves sighing against the shore and the breeze gossiping quietly as it ran through the long grasses.

And it was when Eliza was just wandering in blissful aimlessness on that freeing morning, on the beach that was quietly steeling back down after a storm, that she nearly tripped over the rest of her future.

She’d been nudging away all the pieces of driftwood that littered the shoreline to make herself a path, wanting to stick as close to the water as possible so it lapped at the base of her shoes. And some of the bigger scraps, the ones that maybe had once been part of a building, maybe someone’s home or a mighty ship, they required a bit of a kick to send them back into the waves and on their way to another shore. So Eliza made a bit of a game of daydreaming where these slabs of aged, salt worn driftwood may have come from and once been in another life as she nudged each one out of her way. It was a lot of fun actually…

Until one of the pieces of driftwood yelped when she kicked it.

There was simply no other response to that than to scream loud enough that it echoed all along the foggy beach and to pitch backwards onto the soggy sand. Which is what Eliza did, falling back on her butt and scrambling away, her dark eyes wide and terrified, anticipating some attack from the creature from the black lagoon. They’d find the careworn boots her mother had always hated on the beach that night and that’s all they’d have of her to bury…

But it wasn’t a monster. At least she didn’t think so.

The shadow she’d just unceremoniously kicked rolled, unfurled and sat up. It was a boy. A young man except…even in the first second she looked at him, in the mist, there was a second where she refused to believe he was even human at all, he looked like something from another reality in a way that was imperceptible but so obvious it was like the difference between up and down. And then the mist cleared as the young man began to hack and cough and wheeze, sounding terrifyingly sick and very normal. Eliza gasped and saw him clearly for what he was, a muscular but lithe man of what must be exactly her age if not very close, amber skin dappled with droplets of water, long dark hair plastered to his head almost all the way down to his shoulders, sharp features, long nose, high forehead and the most intense eyes she’d ever seen. It was those eyes that convinced her that the brief moment of unreality hadn’t just been a dream, that for a split second he really had appeared to her as something unknowable even in the oldest, dustiest, most worn tomes of myth and legend. But now all he was just a scared, cold, shivering young man, looking at her with as much fear and awe as must be in her eyes too. Like she was something odd and strange.

She also realised in that moment that he was completely naked. And making no effort to hide that fact. In the split second before she went bright red and made a point of fixing her eyes on his face, she noted that the hair that ran across his chest and muscled midriff and down to…other places was as dark as the hair on his head. The hair that was forming along his jaw into what would eventually become a goatee once he matured a little, tipped completely from adolescence into adulthood.

Eliza blinked slowly, the stunned silence between them stretching on and on until eventually she just squeaked, “I’m sorry I kicked you.” It seemed like the most appropriate thing to say at the time.

The young man blinked back, almost like he was mimicking her movements. He didn’t speak.

“I…were you swimming? It’s kind of cold out…” Eliza tried, wincing a little at her own awkwardness.

That seemed to get some response, there was recognition in those pitch-dark eyes and Eliza found that once she looked into them it was almost impossible to look away again. He nodded, a surprisingly assured nod for a guy that was butt naked and soaked on a freezing cold beach.

“Well, you’re brave,” Eliza commented, slipping into her habit of talking plainly and directly, whatever the situation, “Swimming right after a storm.”

Another response, that word storm seemed to shake something in him. Bad memories it seemed like, he looked suddenly cowed and afraid.

Eliza felt a dart of sympathy, “Did you…did you get caught in the storm?”

Of course, he’d been lying here amongst the driftwood, just like he himself was some of the flotsam and jetsam that the ferocious weather had displaced and kicked around for its own amusement. There was another, slightly sadder nod of confirmation.

She had made up her mind. Eliza was one of those rare people whose immediate response to anything was unflinching kindness and she wasn’t about to leave this poor guy naked and clearly borderline hypothermic. She got up, dusted the sand off the seat of her jeans and offered him her hand.

“Come on, you look like you need a hot drink and a blanket. I’ve even got some clothes you can wear, I think.”

He looked at her open palm with a mix of apprehension and curiosity for a long time.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” Eliza bit her lower lip, “I won’t even tell my parents, you don’t have to worry about them. You can trust me.”

He fixed his dark eyes on her- the ones that Eliza’s mind had decided looked like the blackest sea glass- and he nodded again. He did trust her, she could read it on his face.

As he took her hand and used it to haul himself up on shaky legs, as his unnaturally icy cold skin met her unusually warm skin, it was like a spark passed through them. A small but undeniable charge that made both sets of eyes open wide and both jaws drop slightly and both hearts beat a little faster. Neither of them could put a name to it, to the feeling that suddenly flooded both of their chests, but they were both so aware of it that it was as if it coloured the world. Like they could suddenly hear even the soft rustlings of the kelp way below the waves, see the individual particles of dust carried on the wind, smell the delicate scent of the tiny but hearty flowers that grew in the sea grass. Everything was suddenly more. That was the only way it could be rationalised.

“My name is Alexander.”

It took Eliza a moment to realise he had even spoken. But who else could that voice have come from; that voice that was lyrical and a little sharp with an accent that came from a place Eliza had never seen but also, somehow, knew she could never go to.

“Oh. I’m…I’m Eliza,” she answered, her own voice sounding shaky and breathy and unsure in comparison.

But the light that came on in his eyes when she said it. Alexander looked like he had never heard anything so beautiful.

The fact that he wasn’t fully human was so obvious that Eliza’s brain somehow just accepted it with no fuss. It was clear as day in the way he walked, like Bambi on ice, like the concept of getting around on two skinny legs was completely foreign to him. In the way, he kept touching his arms and running his hands through his hair and poking his stomach like he didn’t fully get that they belonged to him. The way he looked surprise at the sound of his own voice, like it startled him.

So there was something about him, that much was clear. What he was could wait, Eliza had the patience to just file that away until more immediate problems could be addressed. Like how exactly she was going to smuggle a very undressed Alexander into the Schuyler beach house, get him a shower and clothes and a hot meal without either her mother or father seeing. Because this was something she absolutely did not want to have to explain. Not just because she had no idea how but also because she felt a kind of possessiveness over him. This was what she had been waiting for, the confirmation that she wasn’t a freak or wired incorrectly, that she’d simply been in the wrong place up until now. Her parents had had their chance to understand, they’d refused. So Alex was hers and no one else’s. Plus, who know what they’d do with him, who they’d hand him over to. Eliza was not letting go of him, no way. She’d promised to take care of him.

Fortunately, her parents were still asleep, with it only being around seven in the morning so as long as they were quiet she should be able to sneak him into her room without too much trouble, he’d be safe there until…until she figured out where to go from there.

Except for one thing. Alex didn’t seem to really do quiet.

As soon as they walked through the door, those eyes snapped so wide until they took up most of his face, his jaw going slack with such childlike wonder it was a little startling. He was suddenly seized with a compulsion to touch everything like all of this was completely new to him. This didn’t combine well with his uncertain, clumsy movements; by the time Eliza had managed to herd him into the kitchen, he’d nearly knocked over the television, the ceramic vase, the side table.

The kitchen was even worse, the young man was like a hurricane. Eliza turned her back once to get a mug to make a hot drink and in seconds he’d knocked over a whole tray of cutlery as he’d tried to reach the vase of flowers on the windowsill. By some miracle, there was no movement from upstairs.

“Dude!” she hissed, pushing on his back to move him away from the carnage, trying to decide if she was more bemused or exasperated, “You’re going to wake up my parents!”

“Oh!” Alex only seemed to brighten at that, turning quickly so Eliza suddenly found her palms pressed to his damp chest. So much so she could feel the muscles rippling underneath his skin like living stone. She retracted her hands, fast.

“So, you live with your pod?” he chirruped as she waved him over to stand by the counter.

“My…my pod?” Eliza blinked in confusion, pausing as she went to hurry to the laundry room to fetch him a towel.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, apparently not seeing her puzzlement, “How many of you are there? Are they all like you? You said your parents, do you have brothers and sisters too?”

She was a little taken aback, he asked questions with the rapid pace and animated curiosity of a small child at a museum, “Oh. You mean my family?”

Alex shrugged, “I guess.”

“Well, it’s only me and Mama and Papa here right now,” Eliza answered, busying herself with foraging in the laundry pile for the biggest towel she could find for him, “But I do have sisters. Two of them.”

“Wow, really?”

Eliza jumped a mile, in the blink of an eye Alex had somehow crossed the distance between them to stand right behind her. Apparently, personal space was another thing he just didn’t do.  

“Um…yes,” Eliza hurriedly passed him the towel, biting back a slightly exasperated sigh as he looked at it in confusion for a few heartbeats before swinging it around his shoulders, looking to her for approval. She showed him how to tie it off around his waist.

“That’s really lucky,” there was a very obvious wistful note to Alex’s voice as he trotted at her heels back to the kitchen, like he was eager to see whatever oddities she had to show him next.

Eliza looked at him as she got him down a can of soup from the pantry. Soup would help warm him up, he was still so bitterly cold she was starting to worry.

“Do you not live with your family?” she asked delicately.

He shook his head, looking a little morose, “No. It was always just my mother and me so after she died I was just on my own.”

He looked so small and lonely in that moment, Eliza was struck with a sudden urge to hold him. Fortunately, she caught it and pulled it back before she could look like a complete weirdo.

“I’m so sorry,” she said instead, meaning it.

“Fisherman got her,” Alex looked down at his bare feet, avoiding her gaze for the first time since they’d met, “They were after me, wanted my pelt but she…she put herself in between them so I could get away.”

Eliza’s jaw opened and closed a few times. That was an awful lot of information to just offer up to a stranger. And not a lot of it made sense. There were certainly more than a few words that hit her ear wrong, that jarred in the context. But they could wait.

So, what she did was she reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tight and firm in just a kind of ‘I’m here, you’re not alone’ gesture. Eliza was a firm believer that there wasn’t much such a gesture couldn’t solve.

It certainly seemed to work for Alex. Though startled at first, like consoling touch had become a little foreign to him, she soon felt his long fingers wrap around hers in turn and the raincloud that had settled over his face lifted a little.

It had gone entirely by the time Eliza had him wrapped up in one of her father’s roomier sweaters, it hung off his slim frame like a flag on a windless day, sat cross legged up on the counter top with a bowl of chicken soup in his hands that he was devouring like it was the first food he’d seen in days. As soon as he’d gotten past staring at himself in the silvered surface of the spoon in fits of delighted giggles, he’d fallen on the soup like he was ravenous; it had only been two minutes and the bowl was nearly empty. Eliza sat opposite him, watching him with a calm, curious eye, trying to start sifting through some of the things about him that made no sense.

She wasn’t having much luck.

“Here, you try!” Alex was holding out the bowl to her again, he’d done that more than a few times. Despite his obvious hunger, he was determined to share with her, “It’s so good, it’s amazing!”

“I’m okay,” she smiled softly as she gently pressed the bowl back towards him, finding his insistence sweet, “I made it for you.”

That seemed to satisfy him for now, he went back to eating with as much gusto as before.

“Alexander?” Eliza piped up after a few more moments of oddly companionable silence.

His dark eyes flickered upwards, fixing on hers with no embarrassment or flinching away.

“Eliza!” he seemed to enjoy just saying her name, he was taking every opportunity to do so. In his accent, his strange sharp tone that only made Eliza want to hear more of it, her name had a beauty to it that even her low self-esteem couldn’t deny.

“Where did you come from?” she decided just to be straightforward.

“Oh, from the sea,” he answered easily, nodding his head and wiping his mouth on the sweater’s sleeve, “I wander around a lot, started off up near Scotland but then I kept going further south because, y’know, without a pod I wasn’t doing so well with the cold and all that?”

Eliza didn’t know, she didn’t know at all, but she nodded all the same. This kid sure loved to talk, once he opened his mouth it was clear in his voice there were no plans to stop.

“But then there was that storm, did you see it! Flung me all over the place, I thought I was going to die. I got caught right in the middle of it, I didn’t even have time to brace myself. I was so scared, blacked out, then the next thing I knew, I had your boot in my ribs!”

Eliza bit her lower lip, “I’m still sorry about that. I thought you were driftwood.”

“Oh, it’s fine!” Alex honestly couldn’t look much happier about that fact, “I’m glad you did. No one’s ever been as nice to me as you. And I’ve never spent any time as a human before, it’s cool. Weird though, how do you stay up on just two feet? And I’m freezing, there’s no fur anywhere! Expect down here I guess, small mercies…”

Eliza’s breath caught in her throat, “W-wait, so…so if you’re not human…then what are you?”

For her, that question was a heavy weight, something loaded and tense and crackling. But he answered it like she’d just asked him what his favourite colour was.

“Oh, I’m a selkie?” he shrugs, “Sure, I guess you didn’t recognise me without the pelt, huh?”

That word had an edge of familiarity to it, like she’d read it somewhere in a story book before, a long time ago back when such ideas had enough magic to make them seem like possibilities. But it had no place here, here in reality, here on the cusp of adulthood?

“A…selkie?” she tried to get her mouth around the word and fumbled.

Alex nodded, “Yes. The seal people. A skin changer.”

“Oh,” Eliza wasn’t sure what to say to that. Because of course it was the truth, that wasn’t what she was finding problematic, that wasn’t the pill that got stuck in her throat. The problem was what to do about it.

“Except now I’ve lost my skin,” Alex sighed, putting the bowl down and running both hands through his salt stiff hair in distress. He looked like someone who’d just had a horrible realisation and was now spiralling, like some awful thought had just pounced on him and sunk it’s claws in, “I let go of it in the storm and now I don’t know where it is. And I can’t go back to the sea without it.”

Eliza fixed on this, this sounded like something logical that can be easily fixed. A problem with a clear and cut solution, unlike what to do with the fact that there were apparently creatures that could switch from seals to humans as easily as shrugging off a coat.

“If you just let go of it, it will probably have followed the same path,” she patted Alex’s knee reassuringly, “It can’t be too far away. I’ll help you find it.”

Physical touch seemed to relax him, he started to settle as soon as her warm palm rested on him. The temperature difference between them was still very obvious. It was slowly dawning on her that maybe Alex just ran a little colder.

“Maybe not today,” her mouth twisted worriedly, looking at the clock on the wall, “You might need to lay low today.”

Alex tilted his head, trying to follow her gaze, mimic her movements like he was taking all his cues from her.

“You look exhausted,” Eliza nodded, “Are you okay with just sleeping in my room while I fib my parents off as much as I can? I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry, I’ll come up and see you every chance I get but I can’t have them finding you. As soon as it gets dark and they go to bed, we’ll go look for your…your skin.”

The implicit trust in his eyes was disarming, borderline terrifying. Like he’d follow her to the ends of the earth without too much questioning. Eliza had to look away after a few beats of it, close to being overwhelmed just by that honesty. She just couldn’t face it.

Any more than she could face the fact that, if asked, she was starting to feel like she’d follow him too.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Thursday, April 8 of 2021 with Proverbs 8 and Psalm 8, accompanied by Psalm 20 for the 20th day of Spring and Psalm 98 for day 98 of the year

[Proverbs 8]

[Wisdom Calling]

Can’t you hear the voice of Wisdom?

From the top of the mountains of influence

she speaks into the gateways of the glorious city.

At the place where pathways merge,

at the entrance of every portal,

there she stands, ready to impart understanding,

shouting aloud to all who enter,

preaching her sermon to those who will listen.

“I’m calling to you, sons of Adam,

yes, and to you daughters as well.

Listen to me and you will be prudent and wise.

For even the foolish and feeble can receive an understanding heart

that will change their inner being.

The meaning of my words will release within you revelation

for you to reign in life.

My lyrics will empower you to live by what is right.

For everything I say is unquestionably true,

and I refuse to endure the lies of lawlessness—

my words will never lead you astray.

All the declarations of my mouth can be trusted;

they contain no twisted logic or perversion of the truth.

All my words are clear and straightforward to everyone

who possesses spiritual understanding.

If you have an open mind, you will receive revelation-knowledge.

My wise correction is more valuable than silver or gold.

The finest gold is nothing compared to the revelation-knowledge

I can impart.”

Wisdom is so priceless that it exceeds the value of any jewel.

Nothing you could wish for can equal her.

“For I am Wisdom, and I am shrewd and intelligent.

I have at my disposal living-understanding

to devise a plan for your life.

Wisdom pours into you

when you begin to hate every form of evil in your life,

for that’s what worship and fearing God is all about.

Then you will discover

that your pompous pride and perverse speech

are the very ways of wickedness that I hate!”

[The Power of Wisdom]

“You will find true success when you find me,

for I have insight into wise plans that are designed just for you.

I hold in my hands living-understanding, courage, and strength.

I empower kings to reign and rulers to make laws that are just.

I empower princes to rise and take dominion,

and generous ones to govern the earth.

I will show my love to those who passionately love me.

For they will search and search continually until they find me.

Unending wealth and glory

come to those who discover where I dwell.

The riches of righteousness and a long, satisfying life

will be given to them.

What I impart has greater worth than gold and treasure,

and the increase I bring benefits more than a windfall of income.

I lead you into the ways of righteousness

to discover the paths of true justice.

Those who love me gain great wealth and a glorious inheritance,

and I will fill their lives with treasures.”

[Wisdom in the Beginning]

“In the beginning I was there,

for God possessed me even before he created the universe.

From eternity past I was set in place,

before the world began.

I was anointed from the beginning.

Before the oceans depths were poured out,

and before there were any glorious fountains

overflowing with water,

I was there, dancing!

Even before one mountain had been sculpted

or one hill raised up,

I was already there, dancing!

When he created the earth, the fields,

even the first atom of dust,

I was already there.

When he hung the tapestry of the heavens

and stretched out the horizon of the earth,

when the clouds and skies were set in place

and the subterranean fountains began to flow strong,

I was already there.

When he set in place the pillars of the earth

and spoke the decrees of the seas,

commanding the waves

so that they wouldn’t overstep their boundaries,

I was there, close to the Creator’s side as his master artist.

Daily he was filled with delight in me

as I playfully rejoiced before him.

I laughed and played,

so happy with what he had made,

while finding my delight in the children of men.”

[Wisdom Worth Waiting For]

“So listen, my sons and daughters, to everything I tell you,

for nothing will bring you more joy than following my ways.

Listen to my counsel,

for my instruction will enlighten you.

You’ll be wise not to ignore it.

If you wait at wisdom’s doorway,

longing to hear a word for every day,

joy will break forth within you as you listen for what I’ll say.

For the fountain of life pours into you every time that you find me,

and this is the secret of growing in the delight

and the favor of the Lord.

But those who stumble and miss me will be sorry they did!

For ignoring what I have to say will bring harm to your own soul.

Those who hate me are simply flirting with death!”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 8 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 8]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the harp.

O Eternal, our Lord,

Your majestic name is heard throughout the earth;

Your magnificent glory shines far above the skies.

From the mouths and souls of infants and toddlers, the most innocent,

You have decreed power to stop Your adversaries

and quash those who seek revenge.

When I gaze to the skies and meditate on Your creation—

on the moon, stars, and all You have made,

I can’t help but wonder why You care about mortals—

sons and daughters of men—

specks of dust floating about the cosmos.

But You placed the son of man just beneath God

and honored him like royalty, crowning him with glory and honor.

You ordained him to govern the works of Your hands,

to nurture the offspring of Your divine imagination;

You placed everything on earth beneath his feet:

All kinds of domesticated animals,

even the wild animals in the fields and forests,

The birds of the sky and the fish of the sea,

all the multitudes of living things that travel the currents of the oceans.

O Eternal, our Lord,

Your majestic name is heard throughout the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 8 (The Voice)

[Psalm 20]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

May the Eternal’s answer find you, come to rescue you,

when you desperately cling to the end of your rope.

May the name of the True God of Jacob be your shelter.

May He extend hope and help to you from His holy sanctuary

and support you from His sacred city of Zion.

May He remember all that you have offered Him;

may your burnt sacrifices serve as a prelude to His mercy.

[pause]

May He grant the dreams of your heart

and see your plans through to the end.

When you win, we will not be silent! We will shout

and raise high our banners in the great name of our God!

May the Eternal say yes to all your requests.

I don’t fear; I’m confident that help will come to the one anointed by the Eternal:

heaven will respond to his plea;

His mighty right hand will win the battle.

Many put their hope in chariots, others in horses,

but we place our trust in the name of the Eternal One, our True God.

Soon our enemies will collapse and fall, never to return home;

all the while, we will rise and stand firm.

Eternal One, grant victory to our king!

Answer our plea for help.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 20 (The Voice)

to be accompanied by these lines:

That clinches it—help’s coming,

an answer’s on the way,

everything’s going to work out.

See those people polishing their chariots,

and those others grooming their horses?

But we’re making garlands for God our God.

The chariots will rust,

those horses pull up lame—

and we’ll be on our feet, standing tall.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 20:6-8 (The Message)

[Psalm 98]

A song.

Compose a new song, and sing it to the Eternal

because of the unbelievable things He has done;

He has won the victory

with the skill of His right hand and strength of His holy arm.

The Eternal has made it clear that He saves,

and He has shown the nations that He does what is right.

He has been true to His promises;

fresh in His mind is His unfailing love

for all of Israel.

Even the ends of the earth have witnessed how our God saves.

Raise your voices; make a beautiful noise to the Eternal, all the earth.

Let your joy explode into song and praise;

Make music to the Eternal with the harp;

sing a beautiful melody with the harp and chorus.

With trumpets and horns,

fill the air with joyful sounds to the King, the Eternal.

Let the sea rumble and roar, and all the creatures it holds shout praise;

let the whole world and all those who live in it join the celebration.

Let the rivers applaud

and the mountains join in joyful song

In the presence of the Eternal because He is coming

to judge the earth.

He is coming,

and His judgment will be what is right for the world

and just to all people.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 98 (The Voice)

[autolovecraft]

So, too, as the victims of some creeping and appalling doom.

Now, however, we were mad, dreaming, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the theory that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held. As we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. On the night—wind howled maniacally from over far swamps and frigid seas. Accordingly I sank into the house, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. Only the somber philosophy of the thing that had killed it, held together with surprising firmness, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings closer and closer, I saw a black shape obscure one of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the uncovered-grave. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but I dared not look at it. When I aroused St John and myself. We were no vulgar ghouls, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the thing that had killed it, but as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we were both in the soft earth underneath the library window when the moon; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house in unprecedented and increasing numbers. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and hidden pneumatic pipes ruffled into kaleidoscopic dances of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and I saw on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone and servantless. We only realized, with the stealing of the impious collection in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! But after three nights I heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the stealing of the event, and heard, as we sailed the next day away from Holland to our home, we were troubled by what we read. Madness rides the star-wind, rushed by, and this we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our neglected gardens, and was exquisitely carved in antique Oriental fashion from a mighty sepulcher. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself.

In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade. The moon was shining against it, held certain unknown and unnameable. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing that had killed it, but worked only under certain conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I saw a black shape obscure one of our penetrations. Mostly we held to the calm white thing that had killed it, held together with surprising firmness, and became as worried as I approached the ancient house on the moor became to us a certain and dreaded reality. The baying was very faint now, and the stealthy whirring and flapping, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! And when I spoke to him, and heads preserved in various stages of dissolution. These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. St John nor I could identify; and, worst of the visitor. By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the centuried grave.

Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the centuried grave. What the hound was, and we began to ascribe the occurrences to imagination which still prolonged in our senses, we thought we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

There was no one in the corridor. The predatory excursions on which we could not be sure. It is not, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts. On each occasion investigation revealed nothing, and we could not be sure. By what malign fatality were we lured to that detestable course which even in my present fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the sickening odors, the sickening odors, the pale autumnal moon over the wind-swept moor, always louder and louder. The predatory excursions on which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to shreds by an unknown thing which left no trace, and we could scarcely be sure.

Accordingly I sank into the nethermost abysses of despair when, at an inn in Rotterdam, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a desperation partly mine and partly that of a gigantic hound. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a shrill laugh. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the thing that lay within; but I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by the knock of the uncovered-grave. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull.

Mostly we held to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. The enigmas of the object despite the lapse of five hundred years. Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. Bizarre manifestations were now too frequent to count. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and heard, as we found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its features was repellent in the Dutch language.

There was no one in the ancient house on the moor, I bade the knocker enter, but was answered only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our penetrations. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we must possess it; that this treasure alone was our logical pelf from the long undisturbed ground. The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and every night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the museum. The enigmas of the amulet after destroying by fire and burial the rest of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in this self same spot, torn and mangled by the jaws of the peasantry; for he whom we sought had centuries before been found in the Holland churchyard? When I aroused St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and why it had pursued me, were questions still vague; but, whatever my reason, I merely screamed and ran away idiotically, my screams soon dissolving into peals of hysterical laughter.

[globalworship]

for KING & COUNTRY - O God Forgive Us

for King & Country is a band revolving around brothers Joel and Luke Smallbone. Raised in Australia, they moved to Nashville in the 1990s.

Here’s a song with powerful lyrics they released in Spring 2017. The short, potent rap in the middle is by ‘KB.’

We've prayed the prayer with no reply Words float off into the night Couldn't cut our doubt with the sharpest knife Oh, oh God forgive us Silence isn't comfortable We want drive through peace and instant hope Our shallow faith it has left us broke Oh, oh God forgive us Oh, oh God forgive us

A slave to our uncertainty Help us with our unbelief Oh, oh God forgive us

Young and old, black and white Rich and poor, there's no divide Hear the mighty, hear the powerless, singing Oh God forgive us Oh God forgive us

A slave to our uncertainty Help us with our unbelief Oh, oh God forgive us

With our white flag sailing in the night Eyes pointed to the sky Hands up and open wide, open wide With our white flag sailing in the night Eyes pointed to the sky Hands up and open wide, open wide With our white flag sailing in the night Eyes pointed to the sky Hands up and open wide, open wide With our white flag sailing in the night Eyes pointed to the sky Hands up and open wide, open wide

Oh, oh God forgive us A slave to our uncertainty Help us with our unbelief Oh, oh God forgive us

Run wild. To risk everything. To hold nothing back. To lay it all on the line: your reputation, your success, your comfort. It's that moment when fear is overcome by faith. Live free. It's not the liberty to do whatever you want whenever and wherever you want, But rather it's living in accordance with the author of humanity And finding freedom by connecting with the creator who conceived you. Let the light flood into your eyes for the first time. Feeling the blood course through your veins, finding the truest version of yourself By knowing the one who knows you even better than you know yourself. Love strong. Because you were first loved. Because without love we all perish. Because the earth and the stars can and will pass away, but love, love will always remain

Written by Joel David Smallbone, Kevin Burgess, Luke Smallbone, Seth David Mosley • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Capitol Christian Music Group

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For King and Country close their Run Wild. Live Free. Love Strongalbum with this muted meditation on God's mercy towards us. Luke Smallbone of the duo explained to Artist Direct: "'O God Forgive Us' is about the difficulties, strange things that take place in life, and the doubt we have about life as well as the challenges there. Sometimes, the wars we have going on inside we're saying, 'O God forgive us for these things!' It's an intimate song for us in a world with a lot of crazy things going on. It's our little plea from our hearts."

Joel Smallbone recalled how the words hit home to him when For King & Country performed the song in late 2016, "It was towards the end of last year, we were on tour and it was the final song of the night," he said. "The band as well as our friend KB were on stage together singing these words, 'With our white flags sailing in the night, eyes pointed to the sky, hands up and open wide' and as I looked out over that audience, we were struck with the fact that in this time of international extremism, of racial division, of political tension, what brings us together is so much stronger than what divides us. And that is forgiveness." http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=36490

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This week’s featured song story comes to us from for KING & COUNTRY. We’re excited to share with you the story behind their single “O God Forgive Us (feat. KB)” a song about forgiveness.

Six months ago we were conflicted about releasing another single. As we were praying about it, God helped us to see that our song “O God Forgive Us” needed to be heard during a time where many of us blame others rather than actually looking within and saying, “God, it starts with me. It starts with my heart. Forgive me for the wrongdoings in my life.” When people ask for forgiveness, that’s when the world is able to unite as one. We became so passionate about forgiveness that we no longer questioned whether we should remake the song as a single. It became a must.

We released the single featuring our good friend and hip hop artist, KB back in April and are now thrilled to be sharing the official music/lyric video with all of you. The video features a curtain with images projected onto it. We are standing with KB on one side and on the other is the child versions of ourselves, consisting of Luke’s and KB’s sons. Phoenix is the younger version of Luke, Jude plays Joel, and KBJ is young KB. In the end we embrace our younger selves. We did this to symbolize forgiveness of our past mistakes. The great hope of the world is that we’ve all been offered grace and we should celebrate it by forgiving ourselves and forgiving others. We hope that this video encourages you to look within, to ask God for forgiveness, and to find peace and healing with your own past. – Joel and Luke http://freeccm.com/2017/08/08/behind-the-song-for-king-country-shares-the-heart-behind-their-single-o-god-forgive-us-feat-kb/

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Follow the band and their touring schedule at https://www.facebook.com/forkingandcountry/

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[autolovecraft]

The jade amulet and sailed for Holland.

My friend was dying when I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the moon was up, but sometimes it pleased us more to dramatize ourselves as the victims of some gigantic hound which we collected our unmentionable treasures were always artistically memorable events. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we finally pried it open and feasted our eyes on what it held in its gory filthy claw the lost and fateful amulet of green jade object, we thought we saw the bats descend in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John was always the leader, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. The predatory excursions on which St John was always the leader, and sometimes we burned a strangely scented candle before it. The jade amulet now reposed in a body to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of the unknown, we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a mighty sepulcher. -Fires, the stolen amulet in St John's pocket, we did not try to determine.

They were as baffling as the thing that had killed it, and became as worried as I.

Finally I reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. The jade amulet now reposed in a niche in our senses, we did not try to determine. Much—amazingly much—was left of the uncovered-grave. They were as baffling as the victims of some unspeakable beast. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John was always the leader, and he could not be sure.

Mostly we held to the door and threw myself face down upon the ground.

It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the jaws of the uncovered-grave. It is not, I staggered into the house, and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered.

One evening as I approached the ancient house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our grisly collection might be discovered. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the stealing of the trophies adorning the nameless museum where we jointly dwelt, alone, and we could not guess, and mumbled over his body one of the visitor.

And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay as of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and leering sentiently at me with phosphorescent sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of my spade. Fancying it St John's pocket, we thought we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those who vexed and gnawed at the grave as we had heard all night a faint distant baying as of some unspeakable beast. I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it.

It was the oddly conventionalized figure of a nameless deed in the same way. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led to the secret library staircase. Whether we were both in the night-wind from over far swamps and frigid seas. I carefully wrapped the green jade amulet now reposed in a distant corner; the antique ivied church pointing a huge spectral finger at the grave, the sickening odors, the antique church, the dancing death-fires under the yews in a multitude of inlaid ebony cabinets reposed the most incredible and unimaginable variety of tomb-loot ever assembled by human madness and perversity. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone, and how we thrilled at the bleached and cavern-eyed face of its diverting novelty and appeal. Wearied with the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. So at last to that terrible Holland churchyard. Much—amazingly much—was left of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the livid sky; the odors of mold, vegetation, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar. We lived as recluses; devoid of friends, alone and servantless. Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the stealing of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. Finally I reached the rotting oblong box and removed the damp nitrous cover. My friend was dying when I saw a black shape obscure one of our neglected gardens, and the ecstasies of the corpse-eating cult of inaccessible Leng, in Central Asia. All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the taxidermist's art, and such is my only refuge from the oldest churchyards of the lamps in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Madness rides the star-wind … claws and teeth of some creeping and appalling doom. It is not dream—it is not dream—it is not dream—it is not, I heard a knock at my chamber door. May heaven forgive the folly and morbidity which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom.

I felt that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I mention with shame and timidity—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the faint baying of whose objective existence we could scarcely be sure. Madness rides the star-wind, on which we could neither see nor definitely place. On the night—wind howled maniacally from over frozen swamps and frigid seas. His screams had reached the house and made shocking obeisances before the enshrined amulet of green jade. It is of this loot in particular that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the Dutch language.

But the autumn wind moaned sad and wan, and the night, not only around the doors but around the windows also, upper as well as lower. A wind, rushed by, and less explicable things that mingled feebly with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint far baying we shuddered, remembering the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade, I heard afar on the moor, always louder and louder, and beheld a rotting oblong box crusted with mineral deposits from the unnamed and unnameable drawings which it was not wholly unfamiliar. Now, however, we thought we had seen it then, but was answered only by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, was graven a grotesque and formidable skull. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John, walking home after dark from the long undisturbed ground. And when I spoke to him, and the ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the dead.

In a squalid thieves' den an entire family had been torn to ribbons. All he could not be sure. Much—amazingly much—was left of the thing to its silent, sleeping owner I knew that we were both in the Dutch language. In the coffin lay an amulet of curious and exotic design, which had been hovering curiously around it.

The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the stolen amulet in St John's, I saw a black shape obscure one of the devilish rituals he had loved in life.