#what did the death of Jesus accomplish?

[thinkingonscripture]

Propitiation for Sins

Jesus’ death on the cross was a satisfactory sacrifice to God which completely paid the price for our sin. We owed a debt to God that we could never pay, and Jesus paid that debt in full when He died on the cross and bore the punishment that rightfully belonged to us. In Romans, Paul states that we “are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put…

[sugarlywhispers]

a.n; SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), izuku is pussy-drunk because we know no other izuku than the one who LOVES eating pussy. lol i had an izuku itch that needed to be scratched so here it is *wink wink*<3

You and Midoriya Izuku have been friends for a long time now. He's such a good friend, always attentive, kind, funny and respectful. Yet he becomes cheeky, flirty and sometimes sarcastic when there's more trust in your friendship.

Friendship. It's just friendship. You have to remind yourself of that everyday. Push your stupid little –strenuously huge– crush on him very deep inside and lock it away. He's fucking Number One, Pro Hero Deku. How could you not have a fucking crush on him?

Still, when he gave you the opportunity to be friends, you didn't doubt it. You dug your feelings very deep and just accepted what he gave you; a funny, sincere friendship that you honestly didn't want to ruin. Especially because Izuku was also very intentional in watering this friendship with you.

It got to a point where you even slept in each other's places with complete normalcy sometimes. He had clothes in your closet for when that happened, and vice-versa. Izuku even talked to you about the dates he went on, and so did you.

He even held your head after a hard night out with friends, where you found the guy you were in a “relationship” with snogging another girl. Too much alcohol trying to bury what you have witnessed and an ugly date with the toilet as you threw up. Izuku held your hair back and caressed your back with patience and care that early morning. Even dried your tears and hugged you through the feelings. No, you didn't love the guy, but you could have if he hadn't been a fucker.

No one would ever fit into the standard Izuku had made you build around men. But you had to try and find, considering that the main standard was not interested in you that way, and would never be.

It's exactly why, here you are. Waiting in your car after texting said man “oi!, i'm here!”, after he expressed that he has had an awful week and was so stressed he could throw a train towards the sky, up to the atmosphere. Holy fuck. The imagery made you laugh at the moment, but also sent a shiver down your spine at his tone because damn, he was so frustrated and angry. So, you didn't doubt it. Told him to get ready, that you would pick him up in 20 minutes to take him out.

There was no other intention other than pamper him, help him distract his mind from all the troubles that stressed him. Like a friend would.

It had been a lovely night, filled with lots of laughter, jokes and accomplished smiles that felt too normal by then.

You suddenly feel his eyes on you, his body directing his attention towards you as you ride the car, softly mumbling to a well known song that it's playing.

“What?” You ask a moment later, stopping right in front of Izuku's building and looking back at him.

“I just realized… You took me out to dinner. We had ice-cream as dessert and even some cocktails after. You drove and paid for it all. And now you took me back home…”

You snort, “And? What's the problem with that?”

You are a bit confused, especially because he's talking looking dead serious, like he has come to a realization that makes him even imagine in his head whatever it is that he is thinking. Jesus, even his eyes look so determined and shiny it makes you feel weirdly nervous.

But of course, you were not expecting at all what he said next.

“Do I have to suck you off?”

You look directly into each other's eyes for a full minute. Death silent. Song playing in the background. A car passes, its light making Izuku's face become clearer and exposed for the second it took until it drove away. Both your breathing suddenly heard loud inside your car. 

And then you both laugh your hearts out. Almost to the point of crying.

It's so ridiculously funny. The way Izuku asked it was so sure and ready for it and also keeping a serious tone. This type of humor with him has become so funny and comfortable to portray, you can't help but to answer back, “I mean… if you want to.”

You obviously mean it as a joke. It's not the first time you joke with double meaning in your words. It has become normal by now between you two.

Yet Izuku suddenly stops laughing. Again looking dead serious as you slowly come back from your laughter. You clean a small tear that threatens to fall from your left eye as you look at him. His expression is... alert, attentive; eyes are on you, shining, waiting, excited. And as time passes, you realize with a quiet and small gasp; he wants to suck you off.

Next thing you know, you’re sprawled over Izuku’s big and expensive couch, your jeans and panties thrown around somewhere in his living room. Legs open, exposed, as Izukus delves into the taste of your cunt. Both his hands, callous and a bit raspy due to his injuries and in contrast to your soft skin, hold you down by the waist as his mouth doesn’t even separate a millimeter from its place, tongue dancing all around your very wet pussy. 

His eyes are closed and he lets a few grunts here and there that travel up in your body and make you shiver in pleasure, followed by a tongue movement that makes you roll your eyes back. He's fucking enjoying having you like this.

Finally.

[buckybabesonly]

Dirty Little Secret

Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Masturbation (male)

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!

“Hey. Are you listening?”

A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.

“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”

“No,” you confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.

“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”

You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.

He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.

“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.

“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”

“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”

“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”

You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.

“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.

“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.

His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.

“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.

“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.

Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.

You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.

Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.

He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.

But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.

God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.

He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.

His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.

Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.

He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.

His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.

Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.

He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.

Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.

He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.

In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.

He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.

He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.

He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.

“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”

He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.

You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.

“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.

Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.

He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.

Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.

One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Breaking Dishes - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x CollegeStudent!Reader

🪄 re-uploaded because I had to make a new account

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warning: SMUT, lots of pet names, lovey Rafe, friends to lovers, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v

📖 Rafe’s best friend helps him make the best of his buzz cut era and he gets whatever he’d like in exchange.

✨"Do you think about me a lot, y/n?" He breathes.

"Yes," you press out the word through a moan.

"And you wanted to know what my hands could do. Didn't you? I've seen the way you look at me," he taunts. "Are they doin' it for you, Y/N?" He works you a little harder.✨

2.8k (<- mostly smut)

Readers POV:

“It hurts.”

“Does it hurt? Or does it itch? There’s a difference.

"Both, Y/N… This is fuckin’ stupid.”

“No. Nah. Nope… What was stupid was the fact that you, a grown-ass man, didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”

“That’s what you’re for.”

You flick your eyes from his hair to the mirror, catching him with your death stare. “Keep going." He gives you a shit-eating grin, making you fight off a smile of your own.

"This has to be done." He looks at his hair in the mirror, the bleach altering his dark blonde buzz to an icy white.”

“Almost," you sing, running your polished nail through the bleach, eyeing your work.

"And I get whatever I want if I do this. Yeah?”

“Anything you’d like.”

Anything.

It started simply with you and Rafe. He looked like a pouty little man-child, holding his Ralph Lauren polo by the shoulders, his privilege showing as he eyed the streaked bleach stain across the front. This sort of shit had gone on for days. First, it was no detergent, then fabric softener only, followed by straight bleach on the third day. He looked pathetic, desperate to accomplish this simple task. You helped him on the fourth day, sparking a friendship in the process, making your first year at college a little easier.

There was so much stuff he just didn’t know how to do… Stuff that he could fully figure out on his own, but if he did… Then, he wouldn’t need you. And both of you knew that.

There was a spark. There always was. But this time, it was a loaded exchange. You do this for me, and I’ll do anything you’d like, Rafey.

“Purple shampoo?” He mumbles.

“I’m being proactive. Gotta tone it. Don’t question it,” you giggle, emulsifying the shampoo, watching the suds and bleach swirl down the sink. “Gah… Looks so fucking good." He grunts in reply. "Stay here." You run over to the rack, grabbing a fluffy white towel. "Stop!”

“What? Why? It’s my hair, Y/N. Jesus fuck.”

“‘Cause… It’s a surprise," you practically growl out the words through your excitement, swathing the towel around his head, pawing out the water.

"What am I gonna do if this looks like shit?”

“It won’t. It won’t," you smile. "What are you gonna tell Topper?" 

"That I lost a bet. I don’t know. You’re takin’ advantage of me, y/n.”

“You’re the only person I know with a buzz cut, Cameron. It fits your aesthetic. Lean into it.”

“I’m not leaning into shit.”

“Stand up.” You feel your cheeks redden as Rafe rises from his hunched-over position in the sink, his muscular frame bare, just a pair of gray sweats on his tight body. “You blushing, Y/N?" He asks as a cocky smile spreads on his lips. You bite yours, casting your gaze away as you try to collect yourself. "I look that good. Huh?" He taunts, hooking his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to his. You stare into reach beautiful baby blues, feeling your heart start to race.

"Yeah, Cameron.”

He bites his cheek, holding back an all-too-wide smile as his cheeks redden as well. You reach up, tapping the high point of his face, silently calling him out. “Got me," he whispers, making your heart flutter. "Alright… So, can I look?" You smile and nod. Rafe turns on his heels, eyes widening as he takes himself in. He goes through all the emotions at once, landing on a meh. His lip tugs slightly, shoulders shrugging in acceptance."It’s not that bad…”

“I love it," you praise, smiling brightly back at him.

"You’re way too fuckin’ excited about this, Y/N.”

“Nah… You wouldn’t get it.”

“M'Kay. What now?” He cops a slight attitude, unenthused with the rest of your request. You snatch your phone out of your pocket, flicking to your camera, turning it on record. “NO!" He rips it out of your hand, turning it off before passing it back.

"What…" You pout.

"The fuck do you have to record this for?”

“Me!”

“What are you gonna do with it, Y/N? This goes nowhere.”

“It’s just for me, Rafey. Jesus Christ. Calm your tits.”

“Don’t tell me to calm my tits," he huffs. "I’m so fuckin’ serious, Y/N.”

“I promise,” you answer earnestly. “And, you have to say the thing.”

“I forgot.”

“Bullshit.”

“When?” He crosses his arms before his chest, his hip popped slightly.

“After I start the song, of course,” you tease. “Alexa play Breaking Dishes by Rihanna.”

“This is weird,” he snips, looking down at you disgustingly.

“It’s alright, baby girl. You don’t have to get it.”

“Don’t call me baby girl, Y/N,” he huffs as the song starts to build.

“Fine. Alright, Rafey. Lights, Camera, Action.”

“A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an…”

Rafe rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth, throwing his arms to his sides. His ab muscles flex more than before, making you squeal internally. Fuck, he looks good.  Your eyes widen, threatening him with your glare to say his fucking line. “Snow always lands on top.”

“Ah! Yes, Rafey!” You press the little red button, ending the recording, letting out a delighted squeal before jumping into his arms. His eyes fall down your body, roaming back up nice and slow. Rafe’s gaze gets stuck on your lips, wetting his own, tension building between the two of you as you wait to see if he’ll ask for what you both want.

“You know, Y/N… I wouldn’t do this shit for anybody else," he mumbles. 

"I know," you smile. "So, what do you want, Rafe?" You ask, drawing his focus back to your gaze.

"Helped you set up that big mirror last week," he rasps.

"Mhmm…”

“Wanna fuck you in front of it, Y/N." You feel your stomach flip, your heart instantly picks up pace.

"Oh.”

“That okay?" He asks, leaning in slightly.

"Yeah… That’s okay.”

“You want that?" He smiles; his lips mere centimeters from yours, breathing softly against yours.

"Yeah.”

“Words, Y/N," he whispers.

"I want you to fuck me in front of the mirror, Rafe," you respond, voice hoarse and breathy as your nerves start to get the better of you. Everything fades away as Rafe’s lips crash into yours, taking your breath away, claiming your mouth against his. Heat rolls over your skin. Your body starts to tingle, hands moving from his neck, wrapping around his broad shoulders tightly, drawing him closer. His lips are sweet, just like you expected. A soft moan escapes your lips, landing in his. You feel him smile against your kiss, making you do the same.

"You sure this is okay?" He mumbles between kisses as he walks with you into your bedroom.

”Perfect.“ Rafe’s tongue slips through your lips, greeting yours, rolling softly with your rhythm. Fuck… He draws back from you, looking at the two of you in the mirror. 

"First thing I thought about when you asked me to put this up, Y/N. Been thinkin’ about it ever since.”

“Yeah?" You smile as you look back into his blue jean eyes. "Why do you think I bought it?" His smile shifts to a smirk at the sound of your admittance. Rafe sets you down, making quick work of your clothing, peeling it off between kisses. You bite your lip as your fingers dance over the indentations of his muscles, working down to his waistband, his slutty gray sweats. You work the material over his thighs and down to his ankles. He kicks them off, just a pair of white cotton Calvin’s on his large frame. You take your time, revealing his thick cock inch by inch. His dick springs free, standing straight; a bead of cum gathered on his swollen tip.

His rough fingers ghost over your soft skin. Rafe takes hold of your breasts, pressing them together. His touch lightens, feather-soft circle over your nipples. "Rafe," you whine as you throw your head back. His mouth quickly greets your skin, sucking harshly, skimming and flicking your hardened nipple with his tongue. His hands roam down your body as his lips return to yours. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s happening. Rafe’s hand disappears between your thighs, making you moan. He runs his finger along your silk. 

"So fucking wet for me, y/n," he hums, turning you to face the mirror. You feel your whole body start to pulse, every nerve firing hot. Rafe’s fingers meet your bud, circling softly. You’d always look at his hands, wondering what they could do. 

"Feels so good," you whine, causing him to chuckle sinfully. Rafe pulls another moan out of your parted lips, his dark gaze matching yours over your shoulder. He adds a second finger, curling it inside of you, thrusting in and out. Rafe moves his thumb to your clit, adding a little more pressure. 

"I’ve always wanted you," He growls, lips grazing your ear.

"Yeah," you mewl.

"Do you think about me a lot, y/n?" He breathes.

"Yes," you press out the word through a moan.

"And you wanted to know what my hands could do. Didn’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at me," he taunts. "Are they doin’ it for you, Y/N?" He works you a little harder.

"Yes! Yes." You cry. Your thighs start to tremble. Rafe’s lips lock on your neck, licking you, marking you as his own. "I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, baby. I know," he whispers against your skin. ”Can you be a good girl and cum when I tell you?“

”Rafe, I… S-Shit.“ Your eyes flick open, resting on him as you fight back your pleasure, Rafe working against you, trying his very best to push you over the holding.

"Cum.”

“Fuck!" You lose yourself, fluttering around his fingers. He continues to please you, toiling harder and quicker than before. Your lips crash into his, cries of pleasure against his mouth. The two of you are breathing heavily. Rafe sucks off your bottom lip slowly.

"I can’t wait to have you, y/n," he groans huskily. ”Fuck. That was beautiful.“ Rafe wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "How was that, baby?” He drawls.

“Fantastic… Holy shit.”

His hands fall down your skin, landing on your hips, turning you before pulling you close. Rafe circles your ass, squeezing you, giving you a little spank. Your urges are too strong. You just can’t resist.

You throw yourself in his arms, lips locking with his. He moans into your kiss, tongue rolling with yours. Your hands grasp the front of his thighs, nails sinking in slightly.

You drag your fingers down his tight body. A smile spreads on Rafe’s lips as you wrap your hands around his thick dick.

“Shit, y/n," he chuckles raspily as you fall to your knees.

"Can I suck your cock, Rafey?”

“Mmm… Mhmm," he groans, a lusty chuckle leaving his lips. ”Hell fucking yes, Y/N.“ You feel your confidence building by the moment. You swirl your tongue on his velvety head, collecting his precum on your tongue. Rafe takes a sharp breath, followed by a loose, drawn-out moan.

"I’ve always wanted you in my mouth, Rafe," you pant. You trace the head of his shaft, lips close, breathing warmly against him. "Do you want my mouth?" You whisper onto his tip, his lashes flutter.

"Ugh, Shit. Yes, y/n," he groans. "I need your mouth on my cock." His voice is coarse and delicious, driving you wild. You flatten your tongue, licking him from base to tip. Rafe’s fingers rake through your hair, his hands gripping the back of your head.

His hips thrust into your mouth slowly, pushing you to see how far he can go. He draws out, your tongue swirls to the tip. "Fuck me, Y/N," Rafe hums. The grip on your hair tightens.

Each thrust is deeper than the next, a soft swirl to his tip. Your eyes start to water. Rafe readjusts his stance, his eyebrows furrowing. Bringing your hands up to his balls, you play with them as well. Rafe bites his lips, grunting with each thrust as he starts to buck his hips into your mouth. You’re choking on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks. You bring your fingers down to your warmth, pleasing yourself as well.

”Y/n,“ Rafe grunts, taking notice; his breathing increases. "You’re going to make me cum, baby," he sears. He adjusts his stance, thighs quaking. ”Mmm… Y/n. I can’t wait to have you. I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you, Y/N,“ he growls, eyes pinched shut. Hollowing your cheeks, you increase your suction, causing his lips to part. You feel his dick twitch on your tongue. Rafe thrusts into you roughly, his climax spilling deep into your throat. He throws his head back again, holding yours against him as you scratch your nails along his ass. "Y/n, f-fuck," he pants, breathing rapidly. ”Ugh… Holy shit.“ You come off him slowly, eyes set on him. "Best blowjob of my life..”

“Stop,” you giggle.

“Fuck, y/n. I mean it." He helps you to your feet, quickly pulling you in tightly. He presses a kiss against your forehead, breathing rapidly, still coming down from his climax. "Can’t wait to taste you, Y/N?”

“M'so wet…" You hum, fanning the flame. His eyes darken, trailing your curves before tossing you down on the bed. You feel your pussy throb, craving Rafe’s lips; his fingers; his cock. He wraps his arms around your thighs, drawing you toward his face.

You throw your arms above your head, arching your back as his tongue glides through your silk. "Shit," you mewl as you feel the warmth of his mouth, and the whisper of his breath against your sex. Rafe buries himself between your thighs, nose brushing your clit; tongue dipping into your entrance. Your heart starts to race again. You prop yourself up on your elbow, meeting his stare. Drawing your hands up your body, you take hold of your breasts. Rafe moans against your pussy, watching as you play with yourself.

He whispers your name softly against your clit; you toss your head back. Feeling the roughness of his hand against your stomach, working higher. Rafe palms your breast, rolling your nipple softly between his fingers. You feel your pleasure building. Your body moves, grinding your hips to get a little more friction. Rafe’s hand lowers, your anticipation builds. He licks a line up your slit. His fingers toy with your entrance. "Rafe, please," you wail, your thighs widening, pressure building in between. "Ugh… Fuck!" You cry. Rafe sinks two fingers deep, his soft lips sucking roughly. Your thighs start to quiver as he thrusts his digits in and out.

”Can you cum on my fingers?“ He breathes. "Can you soak my hand for me?”

“Yes… Yes.”

“Mmm… My cock’s gonna feel so good sliding in and out of this pretty pussy, Y/N.”

“Yes!" You punch out the word, back arching off the bed. You feel your release, just like he asked, making a mess of his hand as you grip the sheets. You can hear the sound of it. His fingers working sloppily, in and out.

"Baby…" You stutter, relaxing around his fingers, craving more. Rafe grips your hips in his strong hands, tugging you even closer to the edge. You tilt your head up, watching as he takes a grip on his cock, hard and throbbing. Your eyes shift as he guides himself closer. He seizes himself by the base, tapping his dick against your clit. Your thighs tremble with each touch, spurs of pleasure, your sensitivity at an all-time high.

"So fucking wet," he praises. Rafe’s hands shift, taking a harsh hold on the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. "Mmm… Hold these f'me," he groans. You relax your head to the side as Rafe runs his tips through your silk, his eyes meet yours in the mirror, a smile spreading on his lips.

His mouth parts, mirroring yours as his cock starts to stretch you out. You let out a soft whimper, your eyebrows knit as he gives you all of him. Every inch pushes you to your limit; your eyes roll back as he draws out, quickly thrusting back in.

Your hands grab his forearms, holding on tightly, drawing him closer, pulling him deeper. "Look at me, Y/N," he moans, his eyes shifting from the mirror, driving into yours. He leans into you, folding you in half, pinning your thighs against the bed as he kisses you deeply. Your tongues intertwine, moaning and blissful cries are exchanged between your lips.

You separate slightly, breathing rapidly, lips hovering close. His skin slaps against yours, your forehead, nestled against his. "You’re so fuckin’ beautiful," he pants.

”God, this feels so good.“

"So good, baby," he echoes. Rafe picks up speed, feeling your walls drawn in around him. His strong hands grip your hips, using them as leverage to drive deeper.

You throw your head back, eyes shut tight as you feel yourself about to fall apart. Your mouth draws open, a string of curses and praise flow freely. Rafe’s lips lock onto your nipple, sucking hard.

"Rafe. Fuck!” Your pleasure releases, your body pulses around his shaft. Your hands reach for him, pulling slightly, tugging him toward your lips. Rafe picks you up swiftly, taking a seat on the bed, his cock still deep inside.

“Are you okay?" He pants with a smile.

"So good… So fucking good.”

You start rolling and grinding your hips on top of him. Rafe starts to bounce on the mattress. His breathing increases; you can tell he’s close. Grabbing his shoulders, you press him down on the bed. Rafe’s hands squeeze your ass tightly, guiding you, setting a rapid tempo. “Fuck… Ugh," he whimpers. "I’m gonna cum.” He takes you by surprise, drawing out quickly, rolling you to your back.

He plunges back in, reaching for air as he grunts and moans incoherent words. “I’m cumming… Shit," he groans as he climaxes. Rafe continues to drive his release deeper. He presses his lips and body against yours, rocking slowly to a stop.

"Holy shit…." he pants, holding you close. Rafe nuzzles himself into your neck, breathing rapidly as he kisses you softly. You sigh blissfully, relaxing into the bed, giving him better access to your skin. His lips work over your neck, moving up to your jaw.

"So…" he whispers.

"So," you giggle, your heart racing rapidly against his.

"I like you, Y/N, if that’s not clear. And that… Fuck. That was so damn good," he groans blissfully.

"I like you too," you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently.

"And, just so we’re crystal clear, you pictured yourself fuckin’ me and not…" He points to his hair, narrowing his eyes on yours.

"Rafe? No, President Snow. Of course, I pictured myself fucking you and not Rafe Cameron.”

“Brat." He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"Fuck, Rafe!” You whine as you look back, watching the print shift from white to red.

“Ah, shit. You don’t like it rough, Y/N?" He taunts through a snickering laugh. You lower your lips to him, brushing gently.

"You owe me now, Rafey… Round two. I like it rough.”

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my masterlist 🔮

[mxssingmemories]

boundaries // hotch & rossi x platonic!reader

summary: after hotch confronts you in his office, you react intensely. rossi is worried. comfort ensues, hotch and rossi are honorary father figures.

wc: 3k~

warnings: reader’s boyfriend is abusive and a piece of shit, yelling, happy ending i swear

“Okay, what’s going on?” Hotch asks, shutting the door to his office behind you. His tone is slightly concerned and you know he’s not letting this go by the look on his face; his eyebrows are folded down and he’s frowning. You sigh and flop down on the chair in the corner of his office, looking down at the floor like it killed your best friend.

“Listen, whatever’s going on, we can fix it. Even if you don’t want my help, it’s got to be fixed, kid. Just tell me what’s going on. Even Reid came to me about this. You know I can’t just let it go,” he said, his expression tight as he stared at you. The tension in the room was high as your eyes widened. Whatever Hotch wanted to accomplish with this “chat”, it was clear to the both of you it wasn’t going to get far. You stood up and slowly started walking towards him with squinted eyes.

“What is your problem, Hotch? I am perfectly fine! Even if I wasn’t, you have no right to say shit like that! That’s my damn business, not yours!” you yelled, jamming a finger at his chest. On a normal day, you wouldn’t even think about saying any of this to your boss. Your brain didn’t process the consequences at all, but Hotch’s did.

“Y/L/N! You do not speak to me like that! I am your boss-” he started, but was cut off by the door slamming behind you as you walked out. He deflated instantly, sitting back in his chair as all the tension drained out of his body.

The stairs creaked as you stomped down them. The whole team looked up at the noise with slightly concerned facial expressions.

“You alright, kid?” Rossi asked, attempting to pace his gait with yours. You were practically running through the office. Rossi prided himself on being quite agile, but even he was no match for you.

“Fuck off,” you grumbled. Rossi’s eyes widened as he froze in his place. When his wits came back to him, he took a few steps back towards the group. “Jesus, ragazza,” he whispered as he watched you walk away.

“The hell’s her problem?” Morgan asked Rossi, holding his hands up placatingly when he received nothing but a death glare.

“Guess it’s her time of the month,” Derek muttered to himself, eyes widening when he realized how loud he actually said it. 

“Derek Morgan. I will beat your ass,” Rossi deadpanned, already starting to walk out of the doors to follow you. You’d left a bit of a trail when you stormed out. Your phone laid by the top step of the stairs and so did your badge. The older agent picked up your phone & badge and tucked it in his pocket, knowing you'd end up wanting that later.

You walked speedily, fueled by the anger still coursing through you at the situation. You had a certain level of respect for Hotch-he was your boss, after all-but in your eyes, he had stepped way over the boundary. Deep down, you knew he had good intentions, but that didn’t excuse his overstepping.

You sat down on the pavement with a sigh, your gaze falling to the ground as your brain ran 1,000 miles a minute. Rossi's presence was made evident when he sat down beside you, holding your phone in one hand and badge in the other. You kept your eyes steadily on the ground, pointedly ignoring him. Of course Rossi was not one to give up, reaching his hand out further as he silently asked for acknowledgement of his presence.

"Hey, ragazzino, I know you're pissed, but I'm here for you. I just want to help." he said reassuringly, a kind smile on his face as you finally made eye contact. Quickly, you grabbed your belongings from his hand.

"Thank you," you said softly.

Rossi smiled at you as you slowly leaned against him, bringing an arm around you as he took a deep breath.

"Listen, piccola, I promise Hotch didn't mean anything bad. We both know I have no idea what happened, but he wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose." the older agent reassured you, watching your facial expressions attentively as you tried to come up with an appropriate response.

"He breached boundaries, Rossi. Even if he didn't mean to hurt me, he went too damn far. I can't just move on from that!" You half-cried, half-yelled as tears gathered in your eyes. The minute your body started to shake, Rossi took his cue and gathered you in his arms. He held you tightly as you let everything out, loud sobs escaping your mouth as you buried your head in his chest. He rubbed your back lightly, the comforting touch grounding you slightly in the midst of what seemed like hell.

"It's okay, tesoro, let it out. I'm here," he cooed, rocking you back and forth like a baby. Rossi couldn't lie when he said the emotional reaction you had surprised him. After almost three years of being on the team, they hadn't seen you cry once. Even after you'd gotten kidnapped and shot by the Reaper himself, you held steadfast. His heart hurt as he watched you fall apart in his arms, only tightening his grip on you as your cries started to die down. When you were ready, you pulled back. Your head was still resting on Rossi, but you could see him now. The tears in his eyes came as a shock to you, and you looked up at him questioningly but he just shook his head. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and handed you a tissue.You accepted gratefully. Taking it with a sniffle, you wiped your eyes as you desperately tried to regain your composure.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the older agent asked softly as he looked into your eyes. You took a deep breath as you nodded, shifting your position to be able to sit beside him.

"You remember Alexander?" you asked quietly, so quietly in fact Rossi had to physically lean closer in order to hear you.

"As in your boyfriend Alexander? Yeah, I do." he spoke, watching you carefully as you planned your words out.

"He, uh. He didn't like me going out with you guys for dinner." you nervously said, your face dropping as you saw the confusion evident in David's eyes.

"He yelled. Really loud, Rossi. He didn't even let me explain, he just yelled and he kicked me out. I don't even know why I let him, that's my damn apartment. I slept on the street for two nights straight." Rossi's eyes widened as he realized the full extent of the situation, the anger for your "boyfriend" calming down as his paternal instincts kicked in.

“Angel, no one should ever treat you like that. Do you have a place to stay tonight?" he asked softly, and you nodded.

"I got the balls to kick him out two days ago. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. He just made me feel so small, Dave. I didn't know I could even feel like that. I thought he loved me!" you choked, your voice breaking once again as you brought the situation out in the open. For the second time in thirty minutes, David pulled you into his arms. One hand cupped your face, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him.

"Listen to me, kiddo. You did not deserve that. it is not your fault, do you hear me? You did nothing wrong." he reassured, brushing the tears that fell at his words. You tucked your head back into his chest as more tears fell, but he stayed by your side for all of it. The quietness of the alleyway was disturbed once again by your cries. A lone tear fell down Dave's own cheek as his heart contracted at what you were going through.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell us?" he asked quietly, both of your teary eyes looking at each other as you sighed.

"I didn't want to be a burden. I thought it would get better, you know? But Hotch saying what he did..I don't know. I can't just keep pretending." you confessed. the older agent placed his hand back on your shoulder.

"You're never a burden, angel. You're part of the family. You're like one of my kids, okay? I never want you to feel like you can't talk to me. About Aaron, though, I think we both know you need to talk to him." He said, squeezing your shoulder as your eyes traveled back to the building. Quietly, you nodded your head. As David stood up, he offered you a hand which you gladly took.

"You really see me as your kid?" you asked, head down while you walked. There was a part of you that thought he was kidding, but Rossi immediately dismissed all of your doubts.

"Absolutely, piccola. Don't ever think I don't, okay? You're more important to me than you think." A small smile rose on your face at his words. The walk to the doors was almost over, and by then you had done your best to fix your appearance. With a deep breath, you walked in as Dave held the doors open for you. The stairs to Hotch's office were a death sentence in your mind. The presence of his hand on your back gave you the confidence you needed to talk up the stairs. The team eyed the both of you, but you sent a small smile down to them and their faces changed from apprehension to a mix of relief and concern.

The knock on Hotch's office door seemed to reverberate through the entire bullpen. You stood at his door with a tight expression, and he opened it with an even tighter one.

"Y/N. I think it's best if you come in." You nodded as your eyes fell to the floor. Hotch motioned for you to take a seat as he shut his door. You did as asked, only making eye contact with your boss when he sat in a chair beside you. The silence in the office was deafening, as you both waited for someone to speak. It became clear about 2 minutes in that you weren't going to say anything, so Hotch took the hint. "Listen, kiddo. I want you to know I'm not mad. I understand that whatever you're going through has caused this situation, and I want to be here for you, but I can only do that if you let me in." he said evenly, and you felt your shoulders relax at his reassurance.

"I'm so sorry, sir. What I said and did was completely out of line. I promise you there's a reason for it." Hotch nodded to show he was listening, his body language open as he waited for you to explain.

"You remember when we went out to dinner last week?" you questioned, and continued when Hotch nodded again. "Apparently, I neglected to tell Alexander that I was going out with you guys. He was waiting for me. He..he wasn't happy, Hotch. He yelled a lot. I didn't know he was capable of that. He ended up kicking me out of the house. I slept on the street for two nights." you explained, voice breaking at the last part as your boss' face immediately contorted into concern.

"Oh my god. Are you okay? Do you have somewhere to sleep?" he asked almost frantically. The nod you gave him seemed to satisfy the statistical part of his brain as he studied your face. Tears pooled in your eyes at the situation you'd somehow gotten yourself stuck in. Crying in front of your boss (and admittedly father figure) was not on your to-do list today.

"I'm so sorry. I should've noticed. Fuck," he whispered. He abruptly got up out of his chair and wrapped you in a full-body hug. It caught you off-guard for a second, but you returned it the second you realized what was happening. The dam broke for the third time in a day, tears spilling out onto your face as you held onto him like a lifeline.

"I've got you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered in your ear as he held you. You just cried even harder, the sounds not missed by the team in the bullpen. They were watching through the blinds with sad looks in their eyes. You're their baby, and it pained every single agent to see you in tears.

You pulled back from Hotch's arms as he studied your face, his focus falling on the dark circles under your eyes.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked, and you sniffled as you tried to respond.

"You can't expect someone to get more than an hour of sleep on the street, Hotch," you tried to joke, but it failed miserably as Hotch looked at you like an injured animal.

"Okay, that's okay. Can you sit down on my couch for a second?" he asked you, and when you nodded, he gave you a timid smile. Unfortunately, your body decided it didn't want to cooperate. You instantly fell back down when you tried to get up. Hotch's instincts kicked in as he caught you and carried you over to the couch bridal style.

"Jesus, next time warn me," Hotch murmured as he sat you down. "I'll be right back, kiddo," he assured you. He walked out of his office to see the whole team watching him with looks on their faces that belonged at a funeral.

"What did you do?" Garcia asked, the death glare on her face actually scaring Hotch. He had to remind himself that he was, in fact, the unit chief.

"She's going to be fine, Garcia. She just needs us right now, okay? Now can you get me my stash?" he asked her, and she sighed but nodded. As her footsteps retreated, Morgan and JJ came to his side.

"Listen, Hotch, I don't know what you did but you need to fix it." JJ whisper-yelled, staring Hotch down.

"JJ, you are one of my best team members. You should know by now I do not take well to being told what to do. I have this under control. Y/N does not need you all against me, she needs us as a family right now. I am asking you to understand and respect that." Hotch ordered, walking away from the two as Garcia returned with a basket that had a blanket, some candy, and a pillow in it.

JJ and Morgan watched as he retreated back up the stairs, looking at each other in confusion before going back to their watching positions.

By the time your boss made it back up, you had cleaned up a little bit. Your runny mascara had been taken care of and you were sitting up properly. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Can you lay down for me, kiddo? I know you need the rest." he murmured, and you nodded as he draped the blanket over you. His hands held your head as he placed the pillow behind it, and they lingered as he stared at you.

"You're not a burden, honey. I can practically hear negative thoughts buzzing in your mind right now, but I can assure you none of them are true. You know I see you as my daughter too, right? It's not just Rossi. We love you, kid." he smiled at you, and both of your eyes were wet with tears as you smiled back at him.

"Thanks, bossman." you said, as Hotch sat down on the floor.

"You know you don't have to sit on the floor, right?" you asked, giggling when he rolled his eyes at you.

"Can I sit on the couch with you, then?" he asked, joking manner gone as he looked you in the eyes. At your nod, he pulled himself up and sat on your end of the couch. You adjusted yourself to where you were facing him, your head on his chest. His hand absentmindedly carded through your hair as his paternal instincts kicked in. It didn't take long for you to drift off, his steady heartbeat lulling you to the sleep you so desperately needed. You thanked whoever had the power over your life for giving you a team who you knew always had your back. Hotch continued to card his hand through your hair, making sure you were asleep before he let himself fully process what you went through. 

His thought process was interrupted by a text message from Garcia, and he smiled as soon as he saw it. She'd sent a photo of the two of you in your current position, the caption reading 'team dad confirmed?'. He rolled his eyes at her antics and let himself exhale for the first time since the confrontation this morning, his fatherly smile coming back onto his face as he looked down at you. Nobody could blame Penelope when she snapped a photo of that, too; she had a feeling this would be something they would want to see in the future.

[mcflymemes]

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film series

why do you have to make things so fucking complicated?

you still don't get it, do you?

let's get lost.

can you teach it to me?

that look in your eyes is a pain in my ass. you know that, right?

i'm not going to lose you.

how many rounds do you got?

next time, i get to seduce the rich guy.

please don't make me go through you.

i need you to trust me.

you will never get what you want!

it's not a bad way to go.

it's such a nice car.

get in! they're coming!

i need to ask you for something incredible.

i'm smarter than you.

what are you doing here?

"difficult" should be a walk in the park for you.

i'm gonna miss being disreputable.

your line's not long enough!

the countdown is not helping.

we prefer to keep a low profile.

was there something more going on between you two?

you need to walk away.

did you jump?

it's good to see you, too.

well, then i misled you, or you made the wrong assumption.

let me just assure you, this won't hurt... enough.

now the world is at risk.

why won't you just die?

you'll have about five seconds.

they knew we were coming.

what are you going to do? spank me?

this is the CIA's mission.

kill everyone? that's your plan?

there's no reason to be sorry.

look at me. look at my life.

i find it best not to look.

i'll figure it out.

whatever you've heard, if it makes your skin crawl, it's probably true.

how did you get in the helicopter?

what's done is done when we say it's done.

a storm is coming.

my team had it under control.

we knew they were coming.

i couldn't face another life or death situation after that.

mission accomplished.

i think we lost enough agents for one night.

hope is not a strategy.

please don't make me laugh.

that's not who we are.

everything that happened... it taught me who i am.

so i'm jumping into an oven, essentially.

jesus, i thought you were dead.

we all have our secrets.

maybe we need to reconsider that.

you don't understand what you're involved in.

i'll figure it out.

you mind telling me why you broke me out?

this wasn't a rescue mission?

how good is your backup?

i'm exactly where i should be. and so are you.

this is a bad idea.

so what happens now?

you can fly a helicopter?

i've been ordered to take you back to washington.

may there be peace on earth.

i don't quite follow you.

how will the world finally end?

you must be new.

it's not like any mission is gonna be rougher than the last one, is it?

wait 'til you see the car.

i don't care in the least what people think or feel.

please tell me there's more to this plan.

i have arrived at the party.

the blood will be on your hands.

how close were we?

deep down we both knew that someday, somehow, something truly terrible was going to happen.

i can understand you're very upset.

you can thank them in person.

hey, how did you open your cell door?

waste not, want not.

why are you telling me this?

we have to evacuate these people!

there's no time!

you want to shake hands with the devil? that's fine with me. i just want to make sure you do it in hell.

could we get a cappuccino machine in here?

relax. it's much worse than you think.

[bast38]

"Through His resurrection, the Lord delivered humanity from hell and ascended it to Paradise. He rescued humanity from death and lifted it to Immortality. The Lord brought a human being from nothingness, from non-being, to Eternal Life. He rescued humanity from the grip of the devil and presented it into the arms of God. It's Pascha! The greatest revolution indeed across all worlds. The only perfect and complete revolution, perfect and complete, because with it—what is granted to humanity? Eternal Life! Eternal Life, attained through Eternal Truth, Eternal Justice, Eternal Love, Eternal Joy.

‘This is the day that God has made!’—sung in a magnificent church hymn. But who has crafted human days until today? Who fashioned the days of your life and mine, of every human being—who? Death! Death crafted your days and mine and, through sin, cast us into the embrace of the devil, who, in turn, throws us into hell. Sin, death, the devil—these are the architects of our days, the black suns in the dreadful night of sin and death, in which humanity dwelled until the advent of the Lord Christ. What did they accomplish until the Lord Christ? They erected monuments. To whom? Death and the devil! For every sin is a monument that humanity erects to the devil. Thus, this world, until the coming of the Lord Christ, transformed into an endless playground, teeming with false gods, full of monuments to sin and death, full of monuments to the devil. And those monuments were constructed by humans, individuals ensnared by their own sins. A world brimming with idols, with false gods. All fashioned by humanity, deluding itself with sin, with sinful pleasures.

Even today, after the Resurrection of the Lord Christ, when people choose not to follow Him, they still seek these things. Even today, in their sin, they erect monuments to the devil, fashion various idols, false gods, and worship them. How many people worship false gods today? How many today remain unmoved by the Risen Lord? People, ensnared in the trappings of culture. European culture: an idolatry, a dreadful idolatry teeming with false gods, false philosophers, false sages, false scientists, false laws, false emperors and kings, false dictators, false tormentors, tyrants. All this without Christ and against Christ—and it cannot be otherwise! People continually raise monuments to the devil, living amidst false gods when they lack faith in the Risen Lord Jesus.

This world without the Lord Christ—what is it? A realm of death! A mortuary! A colossal tomb! And they place humanity within it, corpse upon corpse, dead man upon dead man, stench upon stench. It is a world devoid of the Lord Christ! Yet with Him, with the Savior, this world transforms into a realm of resurrection, into a cradle of immortality. This world blossoms into the fragrant spring of Eternity. Such is the impact of the Resurrection of the Lord Christ."

—from the Paschal Sermon of St Justin Popovic, 1966"

[angelique-fireheart]

In Touch Bible Study Notes "Overcoming Inadequacy" 08/12/2024

"At one time or another, we've all dealt with feelings of inadequacy. Maybe it's because we lost our temper with our spouse, missed an important work deadline, or were too afraid to say yes to an opportunity at church. How did you feel afterwards? Maybe you were frustrated with yourself or felt as if you didn't measure up. In today's passage, Paul asks a question that points to this common insecurity. "Who is adequate for these things?" (v. 16)

Here's the good news: We are inadequate--but God isn't. And when we trust Him as our Lord and Savior, we become His children and He gives us His righteousness (John 1:12; 2 Corinthians 5:21) He empowers us and has promised to lead us "in triumph in Christ" (2:14). But unless we believe Him and step out in faith, we'll never experience the life He has planned for us.

Feeling inadequate isn't a sin, but using inadequacy as an excuse is. When God calls us to do something that feels beyond our abilities, we have two choices: We can focus on Christ and proceed in triumph or focus on ourselves and withdraw in defeat. It's really a matter of faith. God will always empower us to do what He asks us to accomplish. This doesn't mean we'll do everything perfectly, but each step of obedience is a victory that He will bless. (Psalm 128:1-2)."

My thoughts on this study are as follows:

It's okay to feel like we aren't enough. We are only human, and as such, we have emotions. But not allowing ourself to be the best we can be because we use that as the above study shows, "as an excuse," that is wrong. God has given us the power to do everything He set in our heart. We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus. We are inadequate, but we serve THE God of the Universe. He created everything, and us too. He gave us His Son, His only Son, Jesus, so that we may be able to be saved from our sin. Hell is a very real place, and unless we accept Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior, and believe that He lived, died, and rose from the Grave so that He goes on living even today, for our Salvation, then we are just another one among the lost. We also have a given responsibility, and that is to share the Gospel with as many as we can, so they can experience the joy we do, and so they can know Jesus as well. God thought we were enough. He made us and decided to keep us. He loves us so much more than we can ever understand. So we should never think we aren't enough. We are.

Verses read:

Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest the savour of His knowledge by us in every place. For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish: to the one we are the savour of death unto death; and to the other the savour of life unto life. And who is sufficient for these things? For we are not as many, which corrupt the word of God: but as of sincerity, but as of God, in the sight of God speak we in Christ.

2 Corinthians 2:14-17 KJV

But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name: which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. (and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father.) full of grace and truth.

John 1:12-14 KJV

Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, by ye reconciled to God. For He hath made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.

2nd Corinthians 5:20-21 KJV

Blessed is every one that feareth the LORD; That walketh in His ways. For thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands: Happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.

Psalm 128:1-2 KJV

[skinnyazn]

In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Ch.2 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 2/5 Notes: Simon wakes up from a lil nappy nap, he can't stop thinking of Jag but she's gone, what's a man to do??, it's a short chapter but sets up the next chapter

Part One | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | AO3 | MASTERLIST

It’s like floating through zero Gs—weightless in an endless void, deprived of all senses. He must be dead. He’s not known this kind of peace since a past life, but that was so long ago. And it’s easy to give in to its blanket-like warmth. A promising caress enveloping his entire body, conforming to him soundly and telling him it’s ok to yield—to stay. It’s peaceful here.

It’s hotter now, a searing heat infecting his limbs. He must be in hell. He’s fevered and pained and it makes him crave his endless void. He wants to go back. The inferno consumes every extremity and organ. The darkness is ripped away; that warm blanket set on fire. Please take me back. But there’s no rest for ghosts.

____

The lights were too bright when Simon woke. The throb of his killer headache made him want to vomit and everything was spinning. Movement felt like trudging through mud. His fingers slowly probed his face and he let out a sigh when they scratched a fabric mask. He shifted on the bed and was hit with a wave of vertigo.

“Easy there, Simon.”

Things were staring to come into focus. A sterile room with a bland curtain. The steady beeping of a monitor. An IV in his arm.

“Fek, you’re a tough bastard, hey?”

Price. Johnny. Simon’s eyes scanned the rest of the room, searching for something he couldn’t quite remember.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Soap’s hand pressed softly onto Simon’s shoulder. It felt like needles.

Simon groaned. He opened his mouth to speak but it was all sandpaper.

“How long?” he croaked.

“Just under a week. We had to induce a coma with all the blood you lost,” Price said. “You’ve been drifting in and out the past five days.”

Searing heat and pain. Grasping for the void that wouldn’t come.

“Gave us quite the scare there, Ghost.”

“Worried about me, Johnny?”

The Scott smiled. “You know it.”

Simon groaned as he shifted. “Would murder for a water.”

Soap laughed and uncapped a bottle. He gently lifted the bottom of Simon’s mask and gave him a sip.

“Cheers.”

He screwed back on the cap.

“What happened in Kokshetau?” Soap asked in a low voice.

“Jesus, Soap, he’s only just bloody woken,” Price chided.

Cold and white and beautiful. Snow crystalized on long, black lashes. Red cheeks flushed with exertion.

He tried to recall more but the memories were slow to percolate.

“Bastard dead?”

Price exhaled. “Yeah, yeah. Plus three others. Mission accomplished, Simon. A job well done.”

Simon hummed contented. He closed his eyes.

“Let’s let him rest, Soap.” Price stood and left the room. Johnny started to rise from his chair.

“Johnny,” Simon spoke, eyes still closed.

“Awrite, chief?”

“How is she?”

“Sound and well,” he gave a weak half smile. “Back home now that the job’s done.”

Of course. He knew she’d leave when it was over. People in her line of work didn’t stick around; people like him never got closure. But some selfish part of him hoped that she’d stay—that she’d be here in this room when he woke up.

Stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.

“She did visit though. Quite a lot actually. She uh, slept in here the last night before she left.” Soap’s eyes weren’t subtle when they flicked to the pulse line on the monitor. He shifted in his seat.

“Good man, Johnny.”

Soap rested his hand on his shoulder and gave a nod. He shut the door quietly behind him on his way out. 

____

It was weeks before Simon was out of bed and nearly back to himself. Considering his near-death status, he had progressed exceptionally. But he hated the mundaneness of physical therapy. The scar on his thigh itched, and he had too much time to think about her.

“When’s my next assignment?” he asked Price in the mess hall. His captain looked at him.

“Think you need some more time off, Simon.”

“Think I need my next assignment.”

The older man sighed. “Take another week off, keep up with your P.T.. We can revisit the subject then.”

Simon's stare was gelid but Price didn’t budge.

“That’s an order, L.T..”

The metal chair scraped across the linoleum floor as Simon stood and walked out of the room. He reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed a number.

“Simon, this is unexpected… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Got a favor to ask, Laswell.”

***** For those who wanted to be tagged!

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago, @shuttlelauncher81, @k4marina, @embers-of-alluring

[kivaember]

ac6 drabble: abort

last one before i go to bed (i was planning on doing more but work wiped me out today sorry...) but i have to do @steelhazeortus a solid and give them the iguazu/volta that they clearly crave (their prompt being "adding to my last unhinged reply: Volta lives but make it gay (I’m obsessed. Sorry)").

here ya go buddy

abort

Iguazu had his hand on the eject lever the moment the first round from that Juggernaut bitch had slammed into the ground less than a 100m away from him, the blastwave powerful enough it made even HEAD BRINGER's frame shudder with the force of it.

He'd looked out across the battlefield, across the hundreds and hundreds of metres of kill zones that lay between him and the Wall. MTs with rocket launchers, at least twenty long-range cannons twitchy enough to shoot a fly out of the sky, the fucking JUGGERNAUT raining hellfire on any poor fuck who was stupid enough to amble into its crosshairs, and the GODDAMN GATLING GUNS SCREAMING ROUNDS DOWN RANGE LIKE IT WAS GOING OUT OF STYLE-

you've gotta be shitting me, he had thought, in a light-headed, near hysterical sort of way, you have to be absolutely shitting me.

The supporting squad of suicidally loyal MTs were already getting shredded into scrap metal, yelling at making Michigan proud even as they died to bullet fire. Volta, the fucking IDIOT, was gunning full steam ahead, clearly trying to build the momentum for an assault boost over the defensive trench - Iguazu could make the tactical leaps to understand what he was aiming for: get behind the gatling guns, past the smaller rocket launchers, use the solid tower blocks as cover-

Iguazu was a survivor through and through. He took one look at that battlefield, realised the futility of it all in a split second, and thought fuck this shit i'm out.

His hand was on the eject lever. He even pulled on it a little, until it felt resistance. One more tug, and he'd be launched out of HEAD BRINGER and be walking back to the emergency rendevouz point. He'd rather take Michigan bawling into his face for being a cowardly little runt than heroically becoming an ashy smear on the floor to gain the Redguns absolutely jackshit.

His hand was on the eject lever.

But.

Later, Iguazu wouldn't really be able to explain why he didn't pull it the second he touched down. It defied common sense and his own selfish nature. But his gaze had been fixed on Volta stupidly charging ahead, as he always did, obnoxiously confident in his AC's manouverability and thick-plated armour to see him through anything. Iguazu had watched him charging forwards, acknowledged his tactical decision, and just thought the moron's gonna die.

That's fine. Volta was free to go to his grave feeling like he'd accomplished something when in fact it was just a pointless death for a bunch of old windbags who didn't give one flying fuck about the Redguns entirely, so long as they achieved their bottom line. Iguazu wasn't going to go the same way, though. He was getting out of Rubicon, one way or another. He wasn't dying here.

But.

...

His hand...

...

He let go of the eject lever.

"I must be outta my mind...!" Iguazu hissed under his breath, sending HEAD BRINGER forwards into a charge after Volta, the whistle-whine of overhead tank rounds and missiles making his pulse rate hit the fucking goddamn stratosphere.

YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! his survival instinct screamed at him, WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT?!?!

He ignored it. He just followed Volta - followed him over the trench, narrowly avoiding getting blown out of the sky when the Juggernaut adjusted its aiming slightly to try and pre-empty his leap. He landed heavily, whispering "shit shit shit" under his breath like he was praying to Jesus Christ himself to reach down and pluck him from this situation that was entirely of his own making. He didn't, of course. No god gave a shit about Iguazu.

But it turned out he gave some shit about Volta, because the moron didn't use the apartment blocks as cover - he veered to the left, to try and use the open ground to try and do a suicidal charge. Iguazu finally remembered the button for his comms.

"VOLTA! FUCKING IDIOT- GET BEHIND THIS BUILDING!" he roared at him, even as he shot down some enterprising MT trying to lob a missile at him from atop of said building. "VOLTA!"

"I'M COMING! God, fucking hell, Iguazu, blow out my eardrums why don't you!"

Volta came trundling back behind the building, though, smoke and debris peppering his figurative heels, until they were both huddled behind an apartment block, every Rubiconian dipshit throwing everything they had at the fucking building and making him feel like he was standing in one of those shitty, old war films where a bunch of stupid idiots were sittingin a trench grim-faced and preparing themselves to charge into no man's land.

Like hell. Iguazu was going the opposite way, to- to man's land. Whatever. AWAY FROM THE EXPLOSIONS AND MISSILES.

"This mission's a fucking mess, Volta," Iguazu said. "Let's just get outta here."

"You mean ditch the mission?"

"No, I mean we'll do a tactical withdrawal to reconsider our options- OF COURSE I MEAN FUCKING DITCH!" Iguazu yelled, and even reached over to bonk Volta's AC over the head with his rifle. "YOU THINK WE'RE GONNA MAKE THAT?! WITH EVERY GODDAMN FUCKING COKED UP REBEL CUNT CARRYING TEN MILLION MISSILES EACH AND WANTING TO RAM EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. UP OUR ASS?!?! WE'D BE FUCKING SCRAP BEFORE WE CLEAR FIFTY METRES YOU DUMB FUCK!"

Volta didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Why'd you follow me, then?" he finally asked, sounding genuinely flummoxed.

Iguazu didn't have an answer for him.

"I'm fucking going, and you're coming with me," Iguazu said instead, refusing to let his insane dive into missile hell be for nothing. "C'mon, we're jumping the trench."

"Ugh..."

For one moment, Iguazu thought Volta was going to say no, and honestly, Iguazu didn't have a plan for that scenario, but fortunately Volta angled his bulky tank body back towards blessed freedom and muttered: "Fine, but I'm blaming you when Michigan asks why we ran away."

"Sure, whatever fine, he was gonna yell at me anyway."

They heroically got the fuck out of there, with the only sign of their toe dipping into hell being chipped paint, a few scratches, and Iguazu deeply confused about his own incomprehensible actions.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Death of John the Baptist (Mark 6:14-29)

We have here at the very beginning a serious case of conscience. One would say that Herod was past having such fits of remorse, as his life was so wholly bad. But in even the worst men, conscience is not apt to be entirely dead. At least Herod’s conscience was only asleep, and when He heard of Jesus gong about the country, working miracles, it seemed to him that it must be John the Baptist, whom he had so tragically beheaded, and who had been raised from the dead. Herod’s friends tried to quiet him, assuring him that it was not John returned but a new prophet, who was doing these wonderful things. However, Herod’s fear could not be quieted, his remorse was so great. “No, it is John, whom I beheaded; he has risen!”

Conscience is our best friend so long as we live right. But if we sin, it becomes a torturing fire. We may think we can easily forget our sin but conscience refuses to forget. Lady Macbeth, in Shakespeare’s play, said that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her murderous little hand. Visitors traveling in Scotland are shown a stone with a spot of blood on it which, it is said, will not wash off. If we would be surely saved from the terrors of the accusing conscience, we must live so as to have the approval of conscience in all our acts.

John the Baptist was a wonderful man. The story of his death is most tragic. It seems utterly inappropriate that a man so noble, so worthy, who had done such a good work should be brutally killed to gratify the resentment of a wicked woman. For it was Herodias who really caused the death of the Baptist. As wicked as Herod was, he would not have killed John if it had not been for the evil woman who never could forgive the preacher for reproving her sin. The part that Herodias played in this crime shows her in a most pitiful light. She was a disgrace to her gender. From the time John spoke so plainly against her sin she was determined that he should die for it! Herod protected him from her plots, but she bided her time.

A “convenient day” came, by and by, and Herodias set herself to accomplish her purpose. It was Herod’s birthday. A great banquet was in progress Herod and the principal men of his kingdom were feasting together. Wine flowed freely, and when the king and his guests were well under its influence, Herodias sent her daughter into the banqueting party of drunken men. A true mother shields her child away from all that would dishonor her. Now, in order to bring about John’s death, this mother was ready to degrade her own daughter.

The record says that Herod was pleased by what he saw. He called the girl to him, and in his drunken mood gave her a promise. “Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll give it to you.” She was shrewd enough to demand an oath of him, lest when he was out of his wine he might refuse to do what he had promised. “And he promised her with an oath: Whatever you ask I will give you, up to half my kingdom.” A man under the influence of strong drink will pledge anything. Many men in such moments have made promises which it has cost them dearly to keep.

The child did not know how to answer Herod, what request to make of him; so she ran to her mother in a dutiful fashion and asked her, “What shall I ask for?” Perhaps the child was thinking of a palace that the king might give her, or of some wonderful gems that she would like to wear. But she could not herself decide what to ask. The words in which the mother answered her child’s question showed the terrible wickedness of the heart of Herodias. “The head of John the Baptist!” she said. At last the moment had come for the full revenge of Herodias. But think of a mother asking her own child to do such a terrible thing!

The story moves on swiftly, and at length the closing in the tragedy is enacted. The girl herself must have had a cruel heart to go so gleefully to Herod with the request which Herodias had put into her mouth. “What have you decided to ask of me?” inquired Herod. “I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptist on a platter!” was the girl’s answer. The king was shocked and grieved at receiving such a request. How could he grant the girl’s request? He shrank from the crime but in his cowardice he dared not show his hesitation. His courtiers would laugh at him if he did. He must be brave, whatever the cost might be. Anything that belonged to him he was under obligation to give to the child he had said he would; he had sworn it. But John’s head was certainly not Herod’s to give to anybody.

The king trembled at the request. He was about to say to the girl that he could not give her what she asked; but here was his oath he could not break that, so he said to himself. His princes and courtiers would laugh at him if he showed tenderness of heart in such a matter of sentiment as this. So he sent for an executioner and had the great preacher killed in his dungeon, and his head brought on a platter and given to the girl. Herod had kept his promise; but there was murder on his soul.

“How could Herod have refused,” asks one, “when he had taken such an oath?” It was a sin to make such a rash promise, and still a greater sin to seal it by an oath. We should never pledge ourselves to do anything which another may ask of us until we know what it is. To keep a promise made thus may require us to sin even more grievously. But if in a moment of foolish rashness we pledge ourselves to do something sinful, we are still not required to do it. We should break our promise rather than do a wicked thing. In this case Herod ought to have broken his oath. He knew this but he was afraid of the laughter of his guests, and committed a horrible crime rather than be a man and refuse to do the thing which he knew to be wrong.

Amid all the dark crime and shame of this story one figure stands out noble and heroic, splendid in character, unspotted in whiteness, strong in faithfulness. We are inclined to pity John, as the victim of such a crime. But our pity should be rather for those who robbed John of his life, while for him we have only admiration. John seemed to die prematurely. He was only about thirty-three years of age. He had preached but a year or so, and was then cast into prison, where he lay a long time. It seemed that he was but only beginning his life work. We can think of his disciples and friends lamenting over his early death, and saying, “If only he had lived to a ripe old age, preaching his wonderful sermons, touching people’s lives, advancing the kingdom of God, giving blessing and comfort to people what a blessing he would have been to this world!” But here we see his splendid life quenched probably before he turned thirty-three.

Was it not a mistake? No! God makes no mistakes. “Every man is immortal until his work is done!” One thing we know at least John’s mission was accomplished. He was sent from God to introduce the Messiah to the people. He did this, and did it grandly. The best life need not be the longest it must be one that fulfills God’s purpose for it. If we do God’s will for us we have lived well, whether it be for eighty years or for only a few years.

John died in a very sad and tragic way, died in a prison, at the hands of a common executioner; yet there was no stain upon his name. He had kept his manhood unspotted through all the years. Men would call his work a failure; it certainly was not a worldly success. Yet it was a fine spiritual success. Jesus said that among all men born of woman, none was greater than John. Earth’s failures, may be heaven’s truest successes.

The life of John the Baptist is rich in its lessons. For example, he hid himself away and pointed the people always to Christ. He was willing to decrease that Christ might increase. When his popularity waned and he was left almost alone, with scarcely any friends or followers, he kept as sweet and worked as faithfully as when he was everybody’s favorite. He was heroic in reproving sin, even in a king. His whole life was noble. Forgetting himself, he lived for God in the truest and most complete way, unto the end.

[hiswordsarekisses]

Even the terrible things that happen in the world as a result of sin, He uses to bring about good. Nothing is wasted, and none of it happens without His knowledge and permission. Everything God does (or does not do), is done or not done from His eternal perspective and His all-knowing, faultless wisdom.

Our time on earth is a blink of an eye compared to eternity. We are here to learn to know Him, trust Him and love Him - how can we learn all of that if everything is only good, or even tolerable?

The Bible says God is able to open our ears in affliction. He can open them without it, but then we would not learn how completely trustworthy and compassionate He is? How can we know to the depth that a human can understand how much He loves us? But He showed us by allowing Jesus to be mercilessly and brutally flogged and murdered on a cross to show us something that nothing else could.

“God’s judgments unsearchable, and His ways inscrutable. His sovereign providence (even when I appears to humans to be very bad) never fails to accomplish His good will…

“I am the Lord, and there is no other, besides me there is no God; I equip you, though you do not know me, that people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness; I make well-being and create calamity; I am the Lord, who does all these things.” Isaiah‬ ‭45‬:‭5‬-‭7‬

Particularly hard providences tempt us to curse heaven. Job’s wife sensed God’s hand in their tragedy but failed to revere His sovereign activity. Her husband asked a critical question: “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” Job 2:10

Young children assume the doctor is cruel for administering a shot. Mature Christians regard God’s providence more carefully. The once-confident Job came to realize his ignorance of divine ways: “I have uttered what I did not understand” Job 42:3

Sovereignty is complicated, so it is important to understand the purpose behind God’s governing of both good and evil. If God’s providences seem blameworthy to us it is because we forget that God is executing His good plan and has plenty of patience. When Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, no one but God could see the intended end: the Lord sent Joseph to Egypt to keep many people alive by his shrewd leadership (Gen. 50:20). The providential medicine in Joseph’s life brought sweet salvation, even if it tasted bitter.

God’s sovereignty and the wicked acts of men coordinate most shockingly in the death of Jesus. God used “the hands of lawless men” to execute His “definite plan” to offer His precious Son as payment for our sins. Acts 2:23”

~ William Boekestein

“Yet among the mature we do impart wisdom, although it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to pass away. But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him”— these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. For who knows a person’s thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual. The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. “For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ.” 1stCorinthians‬ ‭2‬:‭6‬-‭16‬

“In Him were created all things in the heavens and upon the earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or lordships or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through Him and unto Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Colossians 1:16-17

[walkswithmyfather]

“If you love me, obey my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you. No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you. Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Since I live, you also will live. When I am raised to life again, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them.” —John 14:15‭-‬21 (NLT)

“But I have said these things to you, that when their hour comes you may remember that I told them to you. “I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. But now I am going to him who sent me, and none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment: concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness, because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged. “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you. —John 16:4‭-‬15 (ESV)

“This is the new covenant I will make with my people on that day, says the Lord: I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds.” —Hebrews 10:16 (NLT)

“Who Is The Holy Spirit?” Devotional. Day 3 - “Jesus Promised to Give You the Holy Spirit” By Switch (Life.Church):

“Can you imagine trying to send a group text using pen, paper, and the post office? Imagine writing out letters by hand to your five closest friends, buying stamps, stuffing envelopes, and mailing them to five different addresses. After waiting for two or three days, the letters would start arriving at your friends’ houses. Then, each would respond with a letter of their own, making copies for each person in the group and waiting a few more days for each reply. Whew! I’m exhausted just thinking about it. It seems silly since you can accomplish the same thing in a few seconds using your smartphone.

The Holy Spirit works sort of like that. He makes it possible for Jesus to communicate with every single one of His followers in real time across the globe. Jesus could only be in one place at a time. His first disciples didn’t know much about the Holy Spirit or His purpose. That’s why Jesus spent His last days on earth preparing them for His death. They didn’t know He was about to die, and they certainly didn’t understand why. So, instead of trying to dump His entire plan on them all at once, He made them a promise.

He said that when He left He’d send someone else in His place—the Holy Spirit. Jesus wasn’t saying that they would be trading their relationship with Him in exchange for the Spirit. Instead, the Holy Spirit would come alongside them and help them understand everything Jesus had taught. Plus, the Holy Spirit could teach them new things as they learned to hear His voice.

When the Holy Spirit came, He would lead them to the truth. He wouldn’t have His own agenda, but He would be totally committed to completing Jesus’ mission on earth. In fact, the Holy Spirit would do everything to bring honor to Jesus. He would relay messages straight from Jesus into the hearts and minds of all His followers. But, here’s the best news of all: That promise wasn’t just for the disciples who were sitting around that night. It was also for you!

Think about how that changed the game. Before Jesus gave us access to the Holy Spirit, Jesus was the single source of information, and He was limited to physically being in one place at a time. He had to spread His message one crowd at a time. But, when the Holy Spirit made His home in the heart of every believer, Jesus’ message was engraved into our hearts.

Now, without cell towers or smartphones, the Holy Spirit can speak directly into our hearts and minds. Tomorrow, we’ll begin to explore His amazing power that’s available to us any time or place.”

[laurelnose]

i wrote quite a bit while people weren’t paying attention to me on Thanksgiving (including finally fixing a bunch of stuff that was bugging me abt Lepidopteran Feeding Behaviors. patch notes 23.11.23 - paragraphs no longer start with Kujen’s name 3+ times in a row. Jesus. I was feverishly ill during the editing process of that one, which should serve as a cautionary tale to me but won’t). however, in the cold light of day I still like what I wrote but am not sure that it is actually the correct foundation for where I want to go. hmm.

here, have a scrap of… ominous kidfic, ft. a baby fox hexarch and my problematic fave

Nezhe realized there was a visitor to the Thorn Garden station when he caught sight of a servitor escorting a person in a formal coat that wasn’t blue.

That wasn’t strange. Visitors came to the Thorn Garden all the time to see Mother, and Nezhe was usually just happy when he didn’t have to come greet them. Nezhe liked meeting new people, but Mother never wanted Nezhe to talk in front of visitors. Mother wanted Nezhe to stand there quietly so the visitors could admire what Mother had produced, and then disappear with the servitors.

But a visitor in a scarlet coat meant something else. Nezhe put his slate aside and slithered down off the reading room couch, picture puzzle forgotten. He gave chase at a speed just short of what the servitors would scold him for. Catching up to the figure as they entered the big receiving hall was easy. Stopping, on the other hand…

He felt his toe hit the edge of a marble tile wrong and had just enough time to think Stupid new shoes!— before he tripped right into Mikodez’s legs.

“Fox and hound!” Mikodez righted the rapidly-blinking Nezhe. “Where did you come from?”

Nezhe sniffled once, embarrassed and disoriented. But he decided he was uninjured, and gave Mikodez his most winning smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Mikodez said, smiling too. He had crouched down to check that Nezhe was all right. Nezhe pounced. Mikodez’s greatcoat had big pockets, openings circled in gold trim like targets, and he had conveniently put them at Nezhe-height. He had to be quick for Mikodez to let him pull it off, but —

Jackpot! More exciting little masses in the bottom of the pocket than Nezhe could fit in one hand! He dared stir them around once just to be sure he had the most interesting variety of shapes. Then Nezhe snatched his hand out and hid it behind his back. He smiled charmingly at Mikodez again.

“I see I’ve been set up,” Mikodez said solemnly. “Lured into a false sense of security and robbed blind!” Nezhe giggled. “An excellent heist. Keep it up and you’ll make a better fox than I am.”

Nezhe adjusted his grip on his spoils, grinning. It was almost spilling out of his fingers. “Thank you for the candy, Mikodez.”

Mikodez tsked in disappointment. “Nezhe! If you thank me, then I know you have my stolen candy. It’s as good as a confession!”

“But you already know I have your candy!”

“Ah, but if you confess I can take you to court and … have you tickled to death!”

Nezhe shrieked and lurched backwards out of grabbing distance. But the expected attack didn’t come, interrupted by an oddly informal voice. “Having fun?”

A tall man who might have been even fancier than Mother had come up behind Mikodez, accompanied by another of the Thorn Garden’s many birdforms. He must have been Nirai: black and silver. Nezhe fell silent, intimidated by the ornate stranger. Mikodez rolled his eyes and twisted around to look at him. “I am, as a matter of fact! Are you?”

The Nirai sighed. “I’d rather be scrubbing the fungal contamination killing the latest strain of hatchlings out of the mothyard’s atmospheric regulators by hand. At least something useful might be accomplished. The servitors tell me Andan is finally ready,” he said, inclining his head towards the grand staircase that circumscribed the hall. The staircase led to a number of doors Nezhe wasn’t supposed to go in, including Mother’s rooms for meeting very special visitors.

“All right, I’m coming. Sorry, Nezhe,” Mikodez said. “Duty calls. Don’t eat all of those in one go!”

He ruffled Nezhe’s hair and stood up. The Nirai waited for him to straighten his coat, and they went together up the stairs with the two birdforms leading the way.

Nezhe watched them go, unsettled by how the Nirai hadn’t even looked at Nezhe. Once they had disappeared into the upper floor he stood at loose ends for a moment. A cramp in his thumb reminded him that his fist was clenched around a whole ball of candy.

He hastened over to the nearest console table low enough to reach and spread out his prizes on the blue glass. There were two kinds of hard candy Nezhe had never seen before, and — yes! — some of the chewy lychee ones he liked, and Nezhe forgot all about the Nirai.

[fights4users]

There’s no way Flynn is dead, I’m sorry

Ok aside from me getting mad he pulls “self sacrificing idiot 2 Electric boogaloo” the first time, we knew he was going to make it out. Not to mention there was nothing keeping him from shoving clu and making a run for it, or if Sam just got in the god damn beam and did work from the outside like they planned the whole movie. It wouldn’t have happeneddddddd.

More importantly,

Programs are softer than users

Now technically they’re stronger, faster etc. Except they’re digital and really really easy to derez. Particularly in the first movie? Big fall? Dead. Hit by a fast moving object? Dead. Hit realllll hard? Dead. You get the idea.

Flynn survived Half of these things in the original. He survived a TANK EXPLOSION. Which, he wasn’t registered on the scanners because? HES ORGANIC- they’re scanning for programs of corse a humans not going to register he doesn’t have anything to scan for! So it shows as two programs de rezzed. (Also how Ram surcomes to injury post getting thrown off his cycle.)

Feats Flynn also accomplishes: Crashing a recognizer, getting hit/prodded multiple times, diverting a beam of literal energy to make a new junction, Sarks ship derezing, jumping into a beam

Now there is multiple times that he passes out or has a severe loss of energy, but then yori or tron express absolute shock that he hasn’t derezzed or shown any sign of injury/going to die. Like on the sailer they’re holding him like he’s a dying man— mans like Jesus he keeps coming back.

Now you might be saying the legacy grid is different from then Encom one, which yes it is but a lot of the principles still apply.

Sam gets tossed hard from his cycle, lives. Gets cut, lives. Etc etc

However this new grid is sort of “needlessly sadistic” because, from sam getting a literal deep cup we see they made discs SHARP. Which Is 100% unnessesary as they would’ve killed a program with enough speed and precision anyway. It still doesn’t take much to derez a program throughout the movie.

Sam gets a Myriad of bumps and scrapes that would’ve killed one of them, further proving my point. Qurroa sort of proves ISOs are basically programs but with the dexterity and ability to not instantly die as humans.

Do I know what would happen to a human on a total system reboot/big bang (whatever that explosion was)? No? But is it death? Probably not.

[albertfinch]

RIGHTEOUS IN CHRIST

Performance is a very hard taskmaster. In fact, under performance we can never do enough. For us to believe that God only loves us or approves of us because of what we DO for Him rather than WHOSE we are, is to actually demonstrate that what Christ did on the Cross is of no effect! In other words, we are believing that His death and the shedding of His Blood were not enough to place us in right standing with God.

"You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified. I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort? Have you suffered so much for nothing – if it really was for nothing? Does God give you His Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard? Consider Abraham: 'He believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.'" Galatians 3:1-6

RIGHTEOUS BECAUSE OF THE BLOOD

We will never be righteous due to anything we do for God. Only the righteousness of Jesus Christ which covers us makes us righteous. This is why in Galatians 3:1, Paul was concerned that they seemed to have tossed aside the finished work of Christ and were back into the old belief system that involved the Law and performance. If they were truly doing this then they were negating what occurred on the Cross!

FOOLISH AND BEWITCHED

Paul pointed out that the Galatians had become "foolish." He asked them if they received the Spirit by observing the law or believing what that had "heard." We remember how faith in God comes – by hearing and hearing the Word (Romans 10:17).

We "believe" because we "hear," and not because of what we do! What we do for God does not make us righteous, nor does it cause our faith to become established.

Our relationship with Him establishes our faith and our righteousness is only due to the fact that when Christ shed His Blood, we, therefore, became righteous.

Notice that Paul asked the Galatians who had "bewitched" them. This word means "cast a spell," (over them) or "fascinated" (them). Fascination and sensationalism are closely linked. All too often Christians like to be entertained.

When Jesus died on the Cross, He provided the fullness of "sozo" -- a Greek word meaning not only salvation but also healing, deliverance, provision, and all that Heaven offers!  Yet, if our relationship with God is somewhat superficial (meaning we want the sensation without the relation (relationship), we fall short of receiving from God because we really don't know how to believe for His best!

SELF-FOCUSED MENTALITIES

It is easy to become self-focused rather than God-focused -- we focus on what we need rather than the One Who shed His Blood to provide what is needed.

Matthew 6:33 says that we are to "...seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you."

We are to seek FIRST God's Kingdom and "His" righteousness.

This means that we are not righteous without Him and that we are to seek His righteousness – this is clearly stating that we cannot be righteous due to our performance or religious works, but only righteous due to Christ's righteousness.

Secondly, when we do this "first," then "all" things are added to us. The term "all" in this passage refers to everything we need is already accomplished due to the finished work of Christ!

We need not perform any longer believing that this makes us a better person or that God will bless us because of what we do. No! It means whatever we need is already done – at the Cross!

To "plead the Blood" with faith of all that Christ did on our behalf will release the demonstration and power of God!

Noah, upon coming out of the ark after the Flood, made a sacrifice to God immediately upon stepping onto the land.

This is symbolic of our going to baptize our Promised Land (our DESTINY in Christ) by recalling what Jesus accomplished at the Cross  In other words, when we recognize what Christ did and that we are righteous due to His Blood, it empowers us to take our Promised Land(our Christ calling)!

When we believe the "Glory of the Lord" is His finished work we can say -- "But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory even as by the Spirit of the Lord." - 2 Corinthians 3:18

Let us rise up and declare “I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus” (2 Corinthians 5:21) and plead the power that is in the Blood!  And, know that TODAY God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:19).  

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY