#miracle altar

[tom4jc]

In Jesus' Name (book review)

Title: In Jesus’ NameAuthor: Rick DubosePublisher: Chosen BooksDate: 2023Pages: 176 In Jesus’ Name (book review) The author, Rick Dubose, is currently the assistant general superintendent of the Assemblies of God and is a great man of God, whom I have known for many years. Along with being senior pastor of churches, he has also been a sectional leader, district leader and now a national leader.…

[v-tired-queer]

Hi!! I'm a Christian, and while I've encountered people who combine witchcraft with their Christian faith, I've never understood it. I saw in your pinned post that this is something you do. If you're willing/interested/have the energy, would you be willing to share more about that? Or point me in the direction of some more information on it?

I know really little about this, and I really want to understand more. I'm not coming here to be critical, just super curious. :D Hope you're well!

Hello there! 😃👋 I hope that you're doing well, too, and sure, I'd love to share a little more about combining witchcraft with my Christian faith!

I think, for starters, that it's important to remember that, like for everything else in life, how I've experienced this might not be how another Christian witch experiences it, views it, or even came about it. But I think that as Christians we can also understand that fairly easily, as that's just how a lot of us experience Christianity in and of itself. How one person came to Christ won't always be the same way that another person has come to Christ, and how we worship won't always look the same, either. It's just like that for Christian witches, too.

In an attempt to make a very long story short (spoiler alert: I failed), I feel like I am very lucky and blessed to have grown up with a Methodist mom, Southern Baptist father, aunts who were Catholic, cousins who became atheist and agnostic and friends at school who were Muslim and Jewish. I was surrounded by all sorts of different paths to take, and my mom had always encouraged my brother and I to choose our faiths for ourselves when we were old enough to understand what having faith really means, which is why we weren't baptized when we were babies, but raised in church nonetheless. I grew up very faithful. Sunday School was my favorite part of the week, and I loved to learn more about God and Jesus and say my prayers at meals and at night. God always made me feel loved. Still does 🩷

When I was in middle school, I was very, very traditional. I was open minded to others, but I was always hesitant to let myself explore more things for myself. I think I was afraid that exploring meant that I was a bad Christian, that I was questioning God, and I didn't want to make Him angry or upset with me. But I eventually met a friend who was a Wiccan, worshiping a god and goddess, living by the cycles of the moon and seasons, doing spells and rituals and worshiping at home or in nature. I loved things like that growing up, but always thought that it was just something from Hollywood or the mideavel period at best. I didn't think people actually did it, though I had always wished that they did. Little middle schooler me thought that maybe this was God's way of giving me permission to explore more, so I asked questions, watched spells and rituals, learned correspondences, and eventually asked, "Is there a Christian faith that's like this, too?"

Turns out there wasn't really one specific faith in Christianity that I could find, but rather, a practice instead. Google led me down so many different paths of people who were both Christians and witches and I decided I wanted to give it a try, too. And honestly? It felt like my faith was renewed. I felt like by choosing how I specifically worship and "do Christianity", I was making a relationship with God and Jesus and even the Holy Spirit that was closer than ever before because I was letting myself actually feel my faith instead of just going through motions at church, which was a rut than even middle school me was stuck in. I wasn't just doing what I thought I had to, I was doing what I wanted to do to show God my love and faith, and it really empowered me to form my own path in life, one that was and still is Christ centered, even if not in a way that tends to be expected for Christians.

So, the witchcraft itself: personally, I don't know if I view my spells an rituals the same way that other witches do. I don't really do a spell and think of it as me bending the wills that be to my desire, but rather, I view it as a really intense prayer. I see it as me using visual representations of my goals, needs and wants as a way to show God what it is I feel like I need (or just really, really want lol), but I always still leave it up to Him and His plans at the end of the day. I can do a thousand spells for the same thing over and over again, but if God says no, than the answer is no, ya know? My rituals are just ways to show my love, devotion, and gratitude. I pay special attention to seasons because the world God made is beautiful in all of its many ways, and personally, when I take the time to rest in the winter or come alive in the summer, I feel like I'm using the natural patterns of the Earth to further build my relationship with God, and Jesus, too. I feel like God made so many things in a natural rhythm and pattern--I just try to live by those things to strengthen the relationship between us.

I'm sure you can tell by how many times I've said it, but at the end of the day, it's all about my relationship with God and our Savior, just like for other Christians. I'm just doing things a bit differently. I'm 1000% that there are people who don't believe that this is a "valid" thing to do or that I'm sinning or that I'm going to Hell for all of this, but their opinions don't matter to me. My relationship with the Lord, His Son, and His Spirit matters to me, and when I do the things that make me feel the closest to Him, that make me feel His love and grace, then I feel like I'm doing fine.

Allllllll of that being said, there's lot of different ways that other Christian witches worship or practice witchcraft, which I think is really cool! There are some that have Mother Mary as a huge focus in their worship, or the Saints, or even the Disciples! I especially like witchcraft that involves the angels (Gabriel, my beloved 🤍). Personally, I steer clear of anything that involves demons or dark spirits and the like, but I'm always on the lookout for signs that angels are near or that the Lord is with me (which He always is, like he's always with you).

Unfortunately, I can't think of any sources or materials off the top of my head that would be good for further research. But maybe there are some other blogs on here that would have some good starting points, or would share their own views, too! You could search by denomination and then put witch after, like "Catholic witch" or Methodist witch", things like that. There are some books about Christian witchcraft, too, but personally I haven't read any of them. I think there might be come Christian witches on YouTube, too.

I hope this post made sense! If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to ask! 😊

God bless! 🕊

[joannaofarkham]

Pls brain rot more about catholic Eren and Mikasa I need this

(Btw where I’m from we go to the Missa del Gallo on December 24th at midnight??)

Yes! Gosh, I should be focusing on the priest's lecture but my mind was all this a while ago lol! And we have our misa de gallo for nine midnights until the 24th of December.

Anyway, yes! So, Mikasa and Eren are from the same neighborhood but they aren't that familiar with each other. They go to the same school but they're from different class sections, so they only know superficial things of each other.

Annie forces her and Sasha to go with her to attend the midnight masses because she wants to see her altar boy crush -- Armin. But during the first midnight, a certain clean cut brunette boy who's carrying the thurible catches her attention and, well, for some reason, he looks 1) familiar and; 2) quite cute in his cassock and surplice while he sways the thurible during the entrance procession.

Meanwhile, Eren gets teased by the other altar servers because he has not expect his crush going to mass and every time it's time for him to "smoke" (?) the church goers with incense, he makes sure he swings the thurible more where she and her friends are sitting for "extra blessing" (while praying to God to give him the strength to befriend her, at least) lol!

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

im so excited to drink chocolate milk tomorrow

[artblueminecraftorchid]

Miracles Unbound

Acrylic on canvas

[jbrakinjokun]

Check out this post… "THE ALTAR OF CHANGE".

[pearlywritings]

In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions. 

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies. 

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior. 

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace. 

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace. 

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

[penhive]

Assorted

Idioms

Pull the reigns

Pull the reigns as an idiom means to be a leader.

My wife is pulling the reigns in the school where I work.

Rainbow

After the flood, God made a covenant with Moses that he will no longer punish the earth and its inhabitants.

Rainbow as an idiom stands for God’s miraculous provision.

May God initiate a rainbow in my life.

30 Pieces of Silver

Judas the disciple of Jesus betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver.

Thirty pieces of silver as an idiom stands for betrayal.

I have never experienced thirty pieces of silver in my life.

Jacob

Jacob the brother of Esau stole the birthright and blessings of Esau.

Jacob as an idiom means a conniving opportunist.

There is many a Jacob in contemporary society.

Esau

Esau the brother of Jacob was duped twice by his brother Esau and as an idiom it means an indulgence for petty gain that will lead to forfeiture of a large blessing.

There are many instances in my life where I have become Esau.

Falling from the Sky

Falling from the sky as an idiom means getting money from unexpected quarters.

I hope to get falling from the sky in 2023.

On TV

On TV as an idiom means becoming famous.

I have a wish to be on TV.

The Flood

God reigned flood and before he said to Noah and his family to build an ark.

The flood as an idiom means God’s provision during times of difficulty.

Quotes

Sex is the music of an orgasm.

Figures are a God that utters speech and plays with meaning.

A miracle is the victorious, anticipated expectation of reality.

Clouds are painting the sky.

The cosmos is dancing to the tune of God.

The clouds of the sky lay like cauliflowers.

Dark sky lay like a pubic hair.

Acrostics

Acrostic for miracle

Most divine

Intervention

Restoring blessings

After

Countless hardship making

Life’s victory and

Excellence

Acrostic for Altar

A place where God

Lives and resides in

Truth

And

Righteousness

Acrostic for Spirit

Saving

Purpose

In

Restoring and changing

Iniquity to

Truth

Fiction

Quantumurgy

Quantumurgy comes from quantum physics and thaumaturgy (magic) and it’s a soul energy serving the purpose for manifestation.  It’s a magnetic outpouring of thought which creates vibrations and aligns with will of God to manifest reality into a successful completion.

Circumcision

Though I am a Christian, I wanted to follow the Old Testament Mosaic Law and to keep with tradition I got circumcised.

Jesus and Structuralism

Structuralism is a literary school of thought and here I want to take some of the  elements and describe Jesus. Levi Straus the French structuralist developed certain ideas and they are: Savage versus Civilized: kinship and totem. In the first idea Jesus was neither savage nor civilized but the God in him became a man and he occupied a structure that was loving, compassionate and merciful.  The second idea in structuralism is Kingship and it means being related by blood. I put this idea and relate it to the kinship of Jesus as his blood. As a structure this idea is one of sacrifice and it is the shedding of blood for the remission of sins by mankind. The next idea is Totem and totem means an object held in reverence by  a clan or tribe. Jesus was hanged on a cross and the cross became a totem symbol held in reverence and has a universal of quality of love, sacrifice, and redemption.

Conscience and Genes

Sigmund Freud remarked that incest and murder are detrimental for the progress of civilization. Here I want to remark that conscience is a coded letter of God that is implanted in man’s DNA.

[gffa]

“AND THEN I REMEMBERED THAT CHUM IS ALSO A WORD FOR A BUNCH OF SMELLY FISH AND I THOUGHT, WAIT, MAYBE HE’S JUST MAKING FUN OF ME” AND THEN DICK ACTUALLY GETS BRUCE TO KINDA JOKE WITH HIM, like that’s amazing on a good day, but iirc this is set not long after Selina left Bruce at the altar and he’s Not Doing Well, which is the whole reason Dick has dialed the chaos gremlin energy up to a thousand, and actually getting a fun response out of Bruce in the middle of his breakdown is a goddamned miracle, EVERYONE PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT DICK GRAYSON IS A LITERAL MIRACLE WORKER FOR THIS.

[sunny44]

Marriage

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: anxiety and fights

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Next Chapter

My heart was racing as I stood at the altar, the cold sweat in the palm of my hands clashing with my racing thoughts.

The guests' whispers and expectant waiting for me to say yes, but I couldn't move.

Y/N, she deserved better than the mess I had made of things.

Just minutes before, I’ve been grappling with the weight of commitment.

Doubts, fears, and a paralyzing realization that I might not be ready had torn into me. In a painful instant, I’ve had made a gut-wrenching decision: to leave Y/N standing alone.

I could hear everyone's reactions as soon as I got down from the altar and started walking to the entrance of the church, for a moment I looked back and saw her being supported by her sister.

Everything would have been so much easier if I hadn't been a coward afraid of commitment, I wouldn't have left the love of my life in tears as I left as fast as my feet would allow.

…

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about and regret leaving her at that altar. The decision I've made that day is haunting me everyday. I was a pussy, running away from what could have been a beautiful future.

I walked into the bar with Daniel, who was talking about how excited he was to meet Lando's much-talked-about new friend.

"My God, I think you're more excited about seeing her than Lando himself.”

"Actually, I think she's more than just his friend, from the way he talks about her it sounds like he's completely in love."

"There they are." I pointed to the table where Lando was standing and I could hear him laughing and he was certainly in love with his friend.

"Hi guys, this is Y/n." He says smiling and she turns around and her smile disappears when she sees me. "This is Daniel and Max."

"You..."

"It's nice to meet you guys." She says before I can say anything and holds out her hand to us.

"Well, let's sit down."

The evening passed slowly and there was certainly a strange atmosphere when I arrived, but I think it was just me and her who noticed as Daniel and Lando were having a great time.

"Well everyone, everything was great but I have a lot of things to do tomorrow so I'll call it a night." She gets up and starts reaching for her purse.

"I'll pay for it." I say.

"If I wanted a men to pay for things for me, I'd be married." She says thickly and they look at her. "But thank you for offering."

She says goodbye and leaves and the boys carry on talking and don't even see me get up and go after her. She was holding her hand up for a cab to stop and I ran over and put her hand down and then the cab drove straight past.

"What's your problem?" She says and lets go of me.

"Can we talk?"

"No." She turns away from me.

"Please?" I ask again.

"No, I don't want to talk to you and in fact I never wanted to see you again." She says tearfully. "You have no idea how ashamed and humiliated I felt that day and how hard it was to get over you and move on. And now you turn up years later wanting to talk?"

“I want to say I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have the right to be sorry because if you were sorry you wouldn’t have humiliated me like that or at least called me and explained why you asked me to marry you and then left."

"I didn't want to do that."

"Then why did you do it? Why did you leave me crying on the church floor while you left?"

"Because I'm an idiot, okay? I was afraid of commitment and afraid that getting married at 21 was a mistake."

"And how long were you afraid?" She catches me off guard with the question. "Were you afraid on the day or had you been afraid for longer? And don't you dare lie to me."

"I was already feeling it but I didn't know exactly what it was."

"If you'd talked to me like you promised at the beginning of our relationship, none of this would have happened." She says and I feel my heart ache to see her like this. "Then I'm sorry if I don't want to hear or accept your apology."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop, stop repeating that." She started breathing heavily and talking quietly to herself and breathing badly. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe."

"Look at me." I hold her shoulders and she looks at me with wide eyes. "Copy my breathing, okay? Breathe in and out."

We stayed like that for a few seconds until she started breathing normally again but crying a lot so I pulled her in and hugged her, I could feel my shirt getting wet from the tears but after a while she calmed down.

"I'm sorry I stained your shirt." She says after pulling away and wiping the mascara stains.

"It's okay, I don't care about the shirt."

"Okay." She lets go and looks at the floor.

"Come on, I'll take you wherever you want." She agrees and follows me to my car.

She gives me the address and I drive her to her house. The car is silent until she turns on the radio and I look at her.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked." She turns off.

"You don't have to." I said, calling again.

10 minutes later we arrived at her apartment and I realized that it was very close to mine, I opened the door and she was about to leave but she took a deep breath and looked at me.

"Thank you for bringing me home."

"No problem." She gave a slight smile and went inside and I felt as if I would never see her again.

Little did I know that it wouldn't be the last time I'd see her.

This story could have a part 2 because I left the ending open so if you want more, let me know in the comments.

And also let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2 if I do.

[cherepizza]

Wow it's been more than a month. Didn't realize that. I guess I have something to show but uhh my sketchbook got under heavy rain so paper here it's a little wavy. It's a miracle it had so little damage considering what happened to my other stuff. Also nights proceed to get longer and I wasn't lucky to take better photos. Anyway..

All beacons' religions are based on mythology and existence of numerous gods and spirits inhabiting the world. The closest thing they have to monotheism is a religion formed around the existence of a transcendent all-present force (spirit) which, however, cannot perceive the world and interact with it by itself, only being able to do so by splitting itself into many different "sides". Only sides are able to maintain physical bodies and though they all come from the same source and it the end would become one again, they are treated as completely different entities. There're 8 major sides – 8 major gods, other deities are considered lesser. Aand I'll just leave it there because I'd better wait for the time I have a fine picture depicting gods to have at least something accompany a ton of sentences that would come describing them.

Many religions practices and ceremonies are performed at altars. The most simple home altar is a wooden table, low enough so that a beacon would have to kneel down to perform any ritual. The most common offering is food, other offerings include things associated with a specific god. Watered down alcohol may be poured only on certain celebrations. It's a very uncommon practice and in some households it's not allowed and has to be done secretly. After all, you want your gods to be sober to do their duty.

Living creatures sacrifices are also practiced, but sacrificing other beacons is forbidden (at least on the territory of the forementioned "all comes from one spirit" believers). Animals cannot be sacrificed on wooden altars and it's quite rare for a beacon to a have a stone one at home, so cooking and eating a designated animal or specific parts of it (obviously offering a piece to the gods in the process) on a celebration is usually enough.

An interesting religious thing are these sticks made from wood or bone, always coming in number of 8. If their owner didn't make them themselves, they may have some standard decorations and phrases pre-carved but most part of their sides would always remain empty for the owner to fill. Each stick is devoted to one of the major gods and contains an encarved list of things which a beacon wants to ask for from the deity. An altar is not needed when you have sticks but you should still make an offering if possible.

The sticks also serve as some sort of passport as encarvings may contain information about beacon's place of birth, place of work, profession, number of children and other things like the kind of crop their village grows even if the owner has nothing to do with farming but wants the crop to be protected anyway.

All stick sets are personal and follow their owner to the grave. However, taking copies is not frowned upon. Keeping the original set for yourself and leaving a copy with the deseased is also fine but the ritual of changing sets should be performed by close relatives who wish to keep the original sticks as a memory. Otherwise it might be considered disrespectful.

[blusocket]

I've seen some people express some confusion about what Fortnight is about, why it opens the album, what's happening in the video, etc, so here's my attempt at an analysis. For the most part I'll be referring to the characters in the video with the names of the people playing them (Taylor and Post) but at times I'm going to be making direct reference to the events of Taylor's personal life and referring to the muses by their names (Joe and Matty) for the sake of clarity and simplicity.

The song itself uses the suburbia conceit as an extended metaphor for the beginning of her relationship with Matty (he's the neighbor she runs away to Florida with, Joe is the cheating husband.) For more eloquent and detailed thoughts on the narrative of the song you can check out Jaime @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes's post here.

The video is really dense, and I'm not 100% confident in every aspect of my interpretation, but I feel pretty sure that it's making extensive use of visual metaphor in order to tell roughly the same story as the song, just in a different setting. To start, Taylor wakes up chained to a bed in a white dress.

To me this suggests that she's been driven mad by being left at the altar, and is now trapped, surveilled and controlled, in a type of asylum. This represents the end of her relationship with Joe--waiting for a marriage that never came, feeling trapped, mentally unwell etc.

She then takes 'forget him' pills which reveal Post's tattoos on her face when she looks in the mirror.

This represents Matty (the "miracle move-on drug") and shows that he made a mark on her while she was still in the asylum--that is, still in her relationship with Joe. Additionally, in the wide shot where we see the mirror, its size and shape are very reminiscent of a one-way mirror, often seen in interrogation rooms and psychological experiments, further reinforcing the idea that Taylor is imprisoned here.

She then is able to go to the typewriter room and do her work, creating art about how she's feeling, shown by her repeatedly typing "I love you, it's ruining my life" on the typewriter. She's still in pain and feeling trapped. While there, she encounters Post and they create art together, which creates beauty and color in her life. The blue and gold obviously reference her writing about Joe, but the fact that her work is gold and Post's is blue may be a deliberate choice to draw parallels between Matty and Joe, as she does on numerous songs throughout TTPD.

The next scene, where Taylor's hair is down and she and Post are wearing the same black coat and pants, takes place inside her head (symbolized by the shape of the papers they're laying on.) She is dreaming about them being free and creating art together, represented by the papers surrounding them and book she's holding, which has the word "us" written on the cover. She's writing their story before it's begun.

She then reaches for his hand in her fantasy, accepting and asking for this relationship

Then we see that she's being studied and experimented on--the results of the lie detector test read "I love you, it's ruining my life." Her pain is an object of fascination.

Interestingly, Post is part of the group experimenting on her, but when the experiments begin to cause her pain, he liberates her.

This inspires Taylor to destroy the place where she's been trapped, which we see through her opening the filing cabinets that cover the walls and destroying the mirror. I also find the shot of her standing still while papers burn around her interesting and significant; I interpret this as Taylor destroying her own work about Joe. By choosing to leave, she is metaphorically burning--rejecting--the story she wrote about them.

Finally, Taylor and Post enter the dangerous outside world together; the rain echoes the lyric "I chose this cyclone with you" on the album's title track. While I do feel the meaning of Post being in the phone booth is somewhat ambiguous, the framing and the accompanying lyric--"I've been calling ya but you won't pick up" suggest that he's attempting to communicate with her but can't reach her. They are free of her prison, but still separated.

Then, he hangs up the phone and reaches for her hand, and she takes it. The final shot of the video is a close up on their linked hands, presenting us with a cautiously optimistic ending--they are lost and vulnerable in the middle of a storm, but they have each other.

I feel this is a somewhat less sinister, for lack of a better word, portrayal of the start of Matty and Taylor's relationship than is suggested elsewhere on the record, though I believe Post's character being part of the group experimenting on her is significant and the editing creates some ambiguity about exactly when and why she decides to break free. But I hope this clarifies how the video sets up the beginning of this story, the fallout of which is then chronicled over the course of the rest of TTPD.

[legends-of-apex]

Heaven is Here | Namor x Reader

Rating: M (implied smut, implied nudity, intimacy)

Word Count: 1,150

Summary: Just a short little slice of life fic in which Namor finally has the time to pay the reader, a surface dweller, a visit for the first time in months. Some fluff and implied smut. No spoilers for Wakanda Forever. Reader is gender neutral.

You could never tire of seeing him emerge from beneath the rolling waves. The ocean clung to him as an old friend, sticking his dark, water-laden hair to his scalp. He raised a hand, his golden bracers glinting off the sun at his back, and ran his fingers back through his hair. As his hair parted between his fingers, saltwater streamed down his neck to pool in the dips of his collarbones and make a riverbed of his torso.

The water lapped at his waist now, twinkling off his golden waistband as his spear sank into the sand with each firm step. When his chin tilted, eyes adjusting to the scorching light of the sun instead of the darkness of his home, you began walking toward him with barely contained restraint.

He strode with strong steps as he always did. He had the walk of a king, a man with the weight of an entire people on his broad shoulders. By some miracle, he was strong enough to bear that weight. As the sweet sound of you calling his name reached his ears and your blurred figure became clear he started walking more quickly, forcefully towards you. The water parted with each forceful stride of his thighs, sending sea spray along his warm skin.

He reached you just as the pads of your feet began to slap against the shallow water and he gathered you into his arms before you had a chance to say anything. He hooked your knees over his hips to anchor you to him, so he could bury his face in your shoulder and hold you against him as firmly as he dared. His green and golden spear lay abandoned in the shallow water, forgotten in his eagerness to hold you in his arms.

It was so long since you’d last seen him. He told you if not this waxing crescent then the next and you’d watched the moon more than you’d ever care to admit every day since he left.

“I have missed you, my love.” He spoke into your neck between feverous kisses.

“I’ve missed you too.” You replied with a shaky breath, his hair glided through your fingers at the back of his head, too slippy to grip from saltwater.

You wrung your arms around his neck for balance and clung to him like a vine upon an ageing tree. You pulled back from him for a moment to look him in his beautiful brown eyes but he barely let you for pressing his warm lips to yours. You felt the cold jade of his septum piercing against your cheek, its perfectly polished surface contrasting with the soft prickle of his facial hair upon your skin.

Oh, how you had missed the sweet sound of his voice and the slight taste of salt upon his lingering lips.

He carried you a few feet until he could shake the water from his wings and lay you back against the soft golden sands. As the waves kept rolling in, he knelt between your legs and kissed you again so passionately you could barely breathe. You were both so needy, so hungry for one another that the setting almost escaped you.

“Not here,” You whispered, as his lips trailed down your neck so cherishingly. “Once you start I won’t want you to stop.”

"As you wish." He replied with a smile as he lifted you back into his arms again and began walking in the direction of your quaint seaside home.

He’d have had you on that beach for the blue skies and the sun to see if you’d asked. He’d have pushed back the tide, let it swallow all but the altar of dry sands you lay upon and the grains that filled your grasping fists. You’d have laid there for hours uncaring even as the sun began to scorch your skin. It wouldn't have mattered so long as you were together.

When you reached home he made love to you as sweetly and as gently as he had the first time. He always did when he’d been away for so long. Despite his need for you, all he ever wanted to do was cherish you having not had the pleasure of feeling your flesh on his for so long. When his head wasn’t buried between your legs his forehead barely left your own, only to kiss your lips or your neck.

When you were finished, laying there basking in one another, he tugged you into his lap and enveloped you in his big arms. Those arms that wrenched sunken ships from their watery graves and tamed orcas now held you so delicately. These were the moments he craved the most when he was away from you. There was something otherworldly about the peace that washed over him as he heard your breath return to normal, your heartbeat evening out.

"I've really missed this with you." You told him as he trailed his lips along your bare shoulder, treasuring every inch of your skin.

"I can’t apologise enough for leaving you so long.” His voice grew quiet so he barely spoke. His mind weighed heavily with guilt.

“There’s no need to be. Your people need their king. I know that.” You settled back against him even more in an effort to console him, a hand on his upper arm, his broad chest at your cheek. He held your face and encouraged you to look up at him, to gaze at his watering eyes. You covered his hand with your own out of habit and he hummed a sound so deep it sent a shiver through you.

“And their king needs you, my love.” He brought your knuckles to his lips before pressing your palm flat against his chest, right over his heart, so you knew he meant it, “I’ll always come back to you.”

His warm hand moulded your hand to his chest, his heart beating slow and steady. You may not have been one of his people but he loved you and wanted to be there to protect you just as much. The tides would have to carry him home again soon, back to his duties and his people who he loved so much. He’d leave just before morning light and be back before anyone would even notice he was gone. But for now, he was happy just laying with you and holding you in his arms, free of the oceans weighing heavy on his shoulders.

[many-sparrows]

Once my friend told me that he felt Christian imposter syndrome sometimes because he had never had a big, life altering encounter with God. But we encounter God everywhere. It's in the way you let me sit on your couch and ramble about a breakup when we barely knew each other. It's in sunshine. Laughter. The faces of my friends who have never set foot in a church. It's in all the people who have shown me grace and mercy when I wholly didn't deserve it. It's the ache you've been trying to explain. It's the way that birds just know when to push their babies out of the nest. The way that I have found myself back in church even though no one would blame me if I hadn't. The way that we, creatures from a miniscule part of the universe, not only wanted to, but taught ourselves how to look into deep space. The sound of water flowing along a creek. It's the rhythm of the ocean, beating since before our species existed. You can go your whole life without having a big, come-to-jesus, altar call moment when you were "saved," and that's ok. Your faith doesn't have to run on adrenaline highs and intensity. God's in the still small voice. All the little miracles around you.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

M E A N D T H E D E V I L W A L K I N G S I D E B Y S I D E

Sukuna isn't the type of person to say "I love you." He's not the type of person to love. He was a demonic warlord, known for his cruelty and lack of empathy. What part of that screams "lover boy" to you?

baby, you're a haunted house

Society will tell you that playing with ouija boards is a bad idea. this fic begs to differ. a demonic Sukuna smut

close calls

Love is scary, Isn't it Reader? Sukuna thinks it is. but at least he's facing his fears for you. a soft Sukuna smut.

sacrilegious

Feeling holy? Maybe a little less than holy? Do you want to have your guts rearranged by a God in his own temple? yea, me too. a holy Sukuna smut.

unholy

Did you like the idea of the previous fic, but think you'd relate to it better if the reader was of the male variety? well, do I have news for you! A smutty Sukuna drabble

seven minuets in heaven

Maybe you're feeling something a bit more modern reader. Something more relatable? Like a college au where you lose your virginity to a frat boy named Ryomen. A modern day Smut

better off as lovers

Dating is hard and falling in love is harder. Ryomens love isn't up for debate, but if he's truly ready to give up his playboy life style for you is a little more questionable. Part two of Seven Minuets in Heaven. A smutty hurt/comfort fic

new mistakes

I would say being left at the altar was the worst thing that could have ever happened to you, but I think the revenge sex with Ryomen makes it all worth it, don't you agree Reader? A modern day revenge smut.

bad miracle

Gojo has always been an idiot, but he's really done it this time. He's kidnapped the wrong girl, and now, leader of The Syndicate Ryomen Sukuna has to figure out what to do with you.

A Mafia Au smut

heir to the throne

Sukuna never wanted to be a father. Why why hell would he want that? A sticky, stinky, ball of chaos that feels the need to destroy everything. Why would he want that? It's no surprise you hid your pregnancy from him for so long.

A Dadkuna fluffy fic

urban legends

You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? A TrueFrom!Sukuna smut.

change of plans

Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause such a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. Part of the Frat Boy AU Some introspective fluff

tiger hybrid! headcanons

We've all wondered what he would be like as a tiger hybrid, right? Right? some Smutty Headcanons

breaking up headcanons

While you would be entirely within your rights to leave Sukuna, what on earth made you think it would be that easy? some more smutty headcanons

feral nights

Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? An omegaverse Smut

[astranemus]

Your body is an ancestor. Your body is an altar to your ancestors. Every one of your cells holds an ancient and anarchic love story. Around 2.7 billion years ago free-living prokaryotes melted into one another to form the mitochondria and organelles of the cells that build our bodies today. All you need to do to honor your ancestors is to roll up like a pill bug, into the innate shape of safety: the fetal position. The curl of your body, then, is an altar not just to the womb that grew you, but to the retroviruses that, 200 million years ago taught mammals how to develop the protein syncytin that creates the synctrophoblast layer of the placenta. Breathe in, slowly, knowing that your breath loops you into the biome of your ecosystem. Every seven to ten years your cells will have turned over, rearticulated by your inhales and exhales, your appetites and proclivity for certain flavors. If you live in a valley, chances are the ancient glacial moraine, the fossils crushed underfoot, the spores from grandmotherly honey fungi, have all entered into and rebuilt the very molecular make up of your bones, your lungs, and even your eyes. Even your lungfuls of exhaust churn you into an ancestor altar for Mesozoic ferns pressurized into the fossil fuels. You are threaded through with fossils. Your microbiome is an ode to bacterial legacies you would not be able to trace with birth certificates and blood lineages. You are the ongoing-ness of the dead. The alembic where they are given breath again. Every decision, every idea, every poem you breathe and live is a resurrection of elements that date back to the birth of this universe itself. Today I realize that due to the miracle of metabolic recycling, it is even possible that my body, somehow, holds the cells of my great-great grandmother. Or your great-great grandmother. Or that I am built from carbon that once intimately orchestrated the flight of a hummingbird or a pterodactyl. Your body is an ecosystem of ancestors. An outcome born not of a single human thread, but a web of relations that ripples outwards into the intimate ocean of deep time.

Your Body is an Ancestor, Sophie Strand