#touch the Spirit in the Word

[a-godman]

Daily Enjoy the Life-giving Spirit in the Word to Eat Christ as the Bread of Life

The Lord Jesus came as the bread of life, and we can eat Him in His word; the means for us to receive the Lord as the bread of life is the word of life – we need to exercise our spirit to pray over God’s word and digest the word so that we may enjoy the life-giving Spirit and live because of the Christ we eat. If we read chapter 6 from the Gospel of John carefully, we will have a deep impression…

[demaparbat-hp]

*pats Zuko's head* This bad boy can fit so many near-death experiences.

.

Read For the Spirits Chapter VIII here!

[arlathen]

im being a hater but is always astounding how many people like. did not listen to solas or pay attention to what's going on with him. and then proceed to try and start fights about him. like it's so okay to not care about or dislike a character -- there are FOR SURE characters i do not give a shit about and i simply ignore them. but you look sooooo stupid. you look like you don't know how to listen dude. it's not even that your reading comprehension is bad its your LISTENING comprehension. he TELLS you what hes doing. fully voice acted. go back to third grade dude.

[saetiate]

cora! for you and sae <3

i hope i captured corae in this collage ! i’m in the lib and made this in during a study break and some girl stood behind me bc she was looking for a book and ik she saw this too

SPIRIT OHMYGOD??? wait i am actually sooo I AM SO SORRY for getting to this a whole 24 hours later so genuinely ohmygosh please forgive me friend... especially for a gift as sweet as this i am so grateful thank you so much ohmygosh HELLO?? THIS IS SO SWEET WAIT WAIT PAUSE I AM . WALSJFLKDS OKAY

THE LIL KISS MARKS ON HIS LIL TOY LSAJFLDSJFKDS THE QUOTES AND THE RED AND PINK TONES I AM SO HEARTWARMED THAT YOU THOUGHT OF ME... and put the time and effort and energy just to do this for me??? ohmygosh??? wait brb i am making this my desktop wallpaper rn AHSFLASJD AHHHHHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

the red hair and the flowers and the silhouetted kiss :'))) WAHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I AM SO TOUCHED?? THE LIL LOCKETS AND THE TAROT CARDS?? waasfdjlds AND THE FLOWERS AND CAKE AHHH u r so talented my friend i cannot believe... a collage just for my lil selfshippie 🥺🥺🥺 i am sending you so much love my dear friend this means so much to me. i can't believe you would do this for me i am genuinely so heartwarmed ohmygosh THE HAND HOLDING THROUGH THE FENCE like i cannot believe .. that you would take time and effort out to make something for me?? i am so i feel so speechless (says many things anyways) WAHSFLJDS THIS IS SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH . THANK YOU THANK YOU I AM so honored and grateful truly

i am sending you so so much love and i hope your weekend is wonderful also the girl who saw probably thought you really liked sae HAHA WAHSFLDS THIS IS SO CUTE I AM SO HONORED... AND SO GRATEFUL TRULY I AM GIVING YOU SO MUCH LOVE . i would carve a piece of my heart out for you ohmygod

i hope your studying is going well and i wish you the best with all your classes!!! please take care of yourself and remember to take breaks!!! and drink water!!

[darkacademiaarchivist]

OH MY GOD I JUST FINISHED SPIRIT BOX RADIO AND THE FINALE MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL???

It really said it's okay you don't have to hold onto everything so tightly it's okay to let go, there's no destined path for you to go, you can decide what matters to you I'm gonna go cry now...

(aggressively adding no plan by hozier to my spirit box radio playlist)

If you like spooky queer podcast that will rip your heart out and then gently put it back and comfort you in this absolute uncertain mess of a universe we're living in please listen to this podcast I need more people to yell about it with....

Eira, if you're reading this because I know you're always lurking in the SBR tag, thank you thank you thank you for creating this wonderful story full of characters that I hold so dear now. Thank you.

[horizon-eye]

Anyway. I might be a gateway.

[camellia-thea]

finally clearing my works off google docs and onto my ancient version of word and i keep going "oh wow i forgot i wrote that"

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

i forgot that my biggest strength (sleep deprivation letting me get into situations without thinking too much and just going with it) is also my biggest weakness (sleep deprivation making me unable to control my emotions properly and thus letting me burst into tears at minor inconveniences), like a dummy

[spiritoldies]

Revivaltime Choir Featuring Soloist Lee Robbins

Ten Thousand Angels Just One Touch Jesus Is The Answer His Eye Is On The Sparrow I Asked The Lord Sweet Jesus The Ninety And Nine Lift Up Your Hands My Father Watches Over Me Hallelujah 'Tis Done Now I Belong To Jesus Follow Me Since Jesus Took All My Sins Away This Same Jesus

[demaparbat-hp]

He noticed the spears resting not too far away from the women. Zuko squinted his eyes and recoiled at the sight of blood painting the blades, in clear contrast to the whimsical whites and blues of the South. These women were hunters.

The Southern Water Tribe brings shades of white to Zuko's soul in For The Spirits Chapter IX: A Rider Alone.

Sharpened mothers and fatherless children resting on the back of tattered tents. A Ghost-Mother, a shapeless howl, and the blue eyes from his dream—everything comes together in the land of the Midnight Sun.

[a-godman]

Experience and Enjoy Christ as our Emancipator by the Law of the Spirit of Life

We can experience, enjoy, and express Christ as our Emancipator by the law of the Spirit of life; we simply need to cease from our struggling and striving and simply remain in the touch with the Lord so that the law of the Spirit of life would operate in us spontaneously and effortlessly! Hallelujah! This week in our morning revival, we come to Romans chapter 8 and we are enjoying the wonderful…

[eloquentdirtbag]

When the veil thins, this world seems so much less important. The infinities reach out all around me, announcing that no world is more significant than the other. Our world feels that way because of the fact that it happens to be the one our consciousness currently resides in. This world doesn't matter, not more than anything else. It's just one story among many.

[ashstfu]

forever in awe of people who pay attention. people who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the others have walked away. when they continue listening intently while the rest of the group stopped listening. noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “this made me think of you” noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. people who say “text me when you get home safe.” people who make you laugh until you cry. childhood friends who keep in touch. people with genuine intentions. people who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. the “let’s get ice cream” at 3am friend. the turn up the music in the car and sing friend. people whose actions match their words. people who make the world feel less chaotic. kindred spirits. the trustworthy and honest. hard workers. good listeners. clear communicators. people who love you for who you are. people who don’t ask you to be anything other than yourself. people who choose you. people who stay.

[sixeyesonathiel]

you are a girl of a small, irrelevant clan. a mere decorative piece offered to the untouchable, veiled head of the gojo clan in exchange for “peace,” “blessings,” or something equally vague and humiliating. your family won’t tell you anything. only that you must “make him an heir.”

no one has seen his face. you are told not even the servants had looked at him in the eye. they say his eyes are too divine to meet. that his cursed energy would shred the mind of anyone unworthy.

you’re escorted to the gardens of the inner estate to “acclimate” before the marriage. a few hours a day. no contact. no one speaks unless you ask—and even then, the answers are like riddles. frustrating.

so you start ranting. loudly. to a man you think is a mute guard or a gardener, someone forgettable.

“what if he’s a cursed beast with seven arms and no dick?” you hiss one afternoon, yanking petals off a camellia like it insulted your honor. “what if he’s a puppet? a wet, moldy puppet with dead man hands? i bet he smells like mildew and raw fish. and his eyes probably glow like a cat in heat. you think they’re hiding him because he’s too handsome? no. they’re hiding him because he’s hideous. like a spirit trapped in a porcelain doll. but worse. like—like if a haunted house and a rice cooker had a baby.”

the man you're speaking to doesn’t say anything. just listens. sometimes sweeps a few stones. sometimes waters a bush that doesn’t need watering.

“what if he doesn’t even have skin?” you go on, pacing in a huff. “what if he’s all bone. or goo. or cursed energy in a meat sack. no face, just a vague blur. oh my god. what if he talks backwards?!”

one time, he chuckles. it’s soft. amused.

you freeze. “you laughed.”

he shrugs. eyes unreadable.

you don’t realize yet—that was him.

the night arrives. everything’s ceremonial. you're bathed, perfumed, and draped in layers of embroidered silk so heavy they drag behind you like chains. your wrists are tied with a red cord. a blindfold covers your eyes. you feel like an offering. you are an offering.

the room is quiet when you’re laid down. there’s a hush to everything, like the air is waiting to breathe. the futon is soft beneath your back. the scent of incense wraps around you like fog.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t rush. you hear cloth rustle. then stillness. the shift of the air tells you he’s moved closer. your skin prickles with nerves.

a fingertip grazes your hip. you flinch.

he shushes you gently. a whisper against your ear. soothing. too tender for someone who’s supposed to use you.

his hands explore you slowly, reverently. they trace the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, the slope of your thighs. fingertips glide up your ribs, linger beneath your breasts. then his mouth replaces them.

his lips are warm and soft as they land on your collarbone, then lower. the blindfold amplifies everything. your skin tingles with every breath he takes near it. he tongues over your nipple, languid and maddening, until you arch into him.

you whisper, dazed, “what are you?”

he chuckles against your skin. “your husband.”

you expect it to be harsh. clinical. but he touches you like you’re fragile. sacred. his fingers find the slick heat between your legs and slide through it, slow and unhurried. he spreads you open with a reverence that borders on obscene. it feels like a ritual. like devotion.

he sinks one finger inside. then two. the stretch burns, but his thumb strokes something sweet and aching. his other hand cups your breast. you feel owned. undone.

when he lines himself up, he doesn’t say a word. doesn’t warn you. just presses forward until you’re full—too full—split open and gasping.

he groans. you feel it vibrate against your chest as he leans over you.

“so warm,” he breathes. “so tight. you were made for this.”

he thrusts. slow. deep. dragging himself out just to slide back in, each stroke heavier than the last. his hands pin your tied wrists above your head. his mouth traces your jaw, then your ear.

“don’t hold back,” he whispers. “i want to hear everything.”

you moan. cry out. sob. he drinks it in like a dying man. like it sustains him. he fucks you like it’s worship. like it’s art. like he’s sculpting you around him.

his pace never falters. every thrust is exact. every roll of his hips hits something inside you that makes your toes curl. you feel yourself unraveling. more than once. again. again. he whispers praise between kisses.

“so pretty when you come.” “that’s it, cry for me.” “take it. take all of me.”

he holds you down when your thighs start to shake. kisses your temple as you convulse around him. you don’t know how long it lasts. only that when he finally spills inside you, it’s with a low groan and your name tangled in it like a secret.

he unties your wrists gently. rubs your skin where the cord left marks. then removes the blindfold.

silver hair. eyes like starfire drowned in ice.

your breath catches. “you—”

“i’m not a cursed doll,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “but i liked hearing your theories.”

your stomach flips. “you—when—how long—?”

he smiles. “especially the one where i was a beast locked in a tower. very romantic.”

you gape at him. this divine, impossible man.

“…why didn’t you say anything?”

he leans close. brushes a thumb across your bottom lip.

“because you never asked for my name, wife.”

[blackvahana]

[jorenilee]

I would tear shit up as a monster hunter creature. my jaws would twitch with barely restrained energy during my idle animations. the ground would crack slightly beneath my limbs during my walk cycle. I would rear back with intense anticipation before my defeaning roar. my tail would have so much weight. I can maul a big yellow lizard to death. and eat it. oh pretty pretty please