#I had a divine revelation and a confession all at once

[aayatunnisa]

I want to have a home, it can be small too, and I want the kitchen and the dining room and my study to be my absolute favourite parts of the house (they already are!) and I of course want to have a humble library, I also want plants creeping up and down the walls, I want tiled patterns of yellow and blue on the floor, I'm going to have a incense sticks from India (we call them agarbatti, oud and bukhoor) and have a wall dedicated to masala for amazing scents and tea, I'm going to have two work desks - one to write on and the other for purposeful creative clutter, I'm going to have so many big windows and stained glass in my home that light and colour are always thrown around the walls lazily, I want to have two cats and one dog, I'm going to get a phonograph and vinyl records of all old hindi filmy favourites from the '60s to the '90s, I'm going to have a ranch with intricate woodwork and a swing, and I'm going to wear sarees kurta/shawls all the time

I cannot imagine where this location would be, but ideally it would be in Asia - I have still so much to see of northern India's mountainous locations and I like the cold there and the warmth is everything too. I think toward north east India, or the places that Ruskin Bond writes about is where I want to live

[ask-miasma-ghoul]

~ Miasma x Jim I got no title for this sorry folks. It's nasty, minors DNI

~

Basically miasma gives Jimmy some head because he was stressing out ABOUT miasma

3.4k words of playtime babyyy

Btw I don't be proofreading these so might be some fuck ups

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Miasma's hands attempted to soothe the tense muscles of Jim's shoulders as he kneaded them gently. 

"Why don't you take a break, my love?" He suggested, his touch a soothing balm against the frustration radiating from him.

Jim remained hunched over at his desk, the knuckles of his clenched fists pressing into his temples as if trying to force inspiration. His eyes, bloodshot and burning, were fixed on the laptop screen with an air of exasperated defeat. The glowing words mocked him. Ever since Miasma’s ascension into anbeing of pure light and undeniable proof of God's boundless grace, his congregation had dwindled. Their faith, once anchored in his sermons, now soared towards the celestial one, leaving him and his words cast off to the side. They only ever had interest in confiding in Miasma anymore. 

"Mhm. I'm sure you've got it handled." Jim muttered, his voice thick with resentment. With a sharp, decisive movement, he slammed his laptop shut, severing the connection to his frustrating task. He attempted to rise, to put distance between himself and Miasma's comforting presence, but an invisible force, a subtle tug of energy, held him captive in his chair. He found himself turned back towards Miasma, forced to meet the gaze of his worried eyes, eyes he had been desperately trying to avoid. 

"Are you angry with me, Jim?" Miasma inquired, his voice laced with concern. His hand reached out, seeking the solace of his. Jim's eyes darted away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

"No. I'm not mad at you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the words strained and laced with an undeniable edge of irritation.

"There is no point in lying to me, my dear," Miasma countered softly, his words a gentle reminder of his own divine nature and Jim's iinability to conceal his true emotions from Miasma’s perceptive senses. Jim scoffed, a bitter sound that echoed in the quiet room.

"Yeah, yeah. Right." he retorted, the sarcasm dripping from his words like venom.

Miasma's vibrant gold eyes narrowed as he focused on the far wall of Jim's dimly lit office. He fell into a contemplative silence, the rhythmic motion of his thumb stroking Jim's hand the only motion in the room. Finally, he turned his gaze back to Jim, whose face was still clouded with a stubborn pout, a clear indication of his reluctance to voice the turmoil brewing within him.

"Jim, my love," Miasma began, his voice a soft caress that carried a hint of sadness, "do you want me to leave you alone?" 

The gentle reproof in his tone sent a pang of guilt through Jim.  He knew Miasma had nothing but good intentions when it came to his involvement with the church. The ghoul-angel hybrid genuinely reveled in the spiritual connection he had with the congregation. Yet, Jim couldn't shake this nagging feeling of resentment, a feeling he often tried to bury beneath the guilt of treating his beloved Miasma with such coldness.

With a heavy sigh, Jim finally met Miasma's gaze, his expression somber.

 "It's not that I'm… mad at you, exactly," he confessed, his voice laced with frustration. "It's just… It's hard to know what to say to our folks when… well, when you seem to have all the answers. When you do have all the answers."

A wave of guilt washed over Miasma's face, his expression contorting with empathy. He knelt down, his eyes now level with Jim's, one hand reaching out to gently cup Jim's cheek. "Oh, Jim," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "You feel as though they no longer need you?"

Jim nodded miserably, unable to meet Miasma's intense gaze.  Miasma hummed softly, a thoughtful sound.  

"I am so sorry, Father," he said sincerely. "I never meant to take that from you. But the truth is, they do still need you. I can connect with them on a spiritual level, ease their worries and offer guidance on their faith. But I cannot connect with them on a personal level, on the human level that you can. And that is far more important in this world than anything I do."

Jim let out a hollow laugh, devoid of any amusement. 

"What a load of bullshit, Miasma!" he retorted, pushing Miasma's hand away from his face. "You're personal with me, aren't you? What difference does that make?"

"There is a vast difference," Miasma explained patiently, a playful gleam flickering in his eyes, one that Jim instantly recognized. A blush crept onto his cheeks. "Between the way I am personal with you, and the way I am with others."

"Still…" Jim muttered, the feeling of displacement lingering.

Miasma's hand, the one Jim had just pushed away, traveled down his arm, his touch sending shivers down Jim's spine. 

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, my love," Miasma said, his voice low and reassuring. "A human guide is necessary.  You are necessary. Think of it this way," he continued, his voice taking on a didactic tone. "The people are point A. I am point C. You are point B. You are the bridge, the vital connection. They cannot get from point A to point C without going through point B."

"I didn't summon you," Jim retorted, his voice defiant. 

Miasma's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. 

"The Siblings did not seek counsel from ghouls in Sweden," he said confidently.

"They sought Papa. He is human, yet intertwined with Satan. The Siblings, human themselves, want that connection. And they share a common thread – humanity. Just as you share that thread with your own congregation." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

 "They sought you before my arrival, did they not?"

Jim's shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. 

"But they don't come to me anymore," he sighed, weariness etched into the lines around his eyes. He rubbed his forehead, a futile attempt to massage away the burgeoning headache.

"What about confession?" Miasma pressed, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Or Bible study? Do they not still seek solace and guidance in your presence?"

Jim fell silent, his gaze dropping to the carpet. He couldn't meet Miasma's intense stare, the weight of it too much to bear.

Miasma's patience, it seemed, had reached its limit. One of his large, clawed hands snaked out, the touch surprisingly gentle as it grasped Jim's jaw, forcing him to look up. Jim flinched, a shudder wracking his body, his eyes widening in alarm.

"You are needed here, Father," Miasma's voice was low and insistent, a hypnotic rumble that held Jim captive. "And very much wanted. If it eases your concerns, I am willing to step back during mass." He offered a compromise, a concession that surprised Jim. "I am content simply being your…ghoul. Or angel. Or whatever label you deem fitting." A smile played on his lips, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Jim couldn't help the answering smile that tugged at his own lips, his hands instinctively reaching up to grasp Miasma's forearm. A blush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks a vibrant crimson.

Miasma tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. He deliberately moved his thumb, the rough pad of it brushing against Jim's cheekbone in a slow, deliberate caress.

"Your face is flushed, lamb. Are you unwell?"

"Shut up," Jim scoffed, the word losing its sting with the playfulness in his voice. His gaze fell once more, seeking refuge in the safety of the floor.

"Ah, ah," Miasma tutted, a hint of reprimand in his tone, though the underlying amusement was unmistakable. "We do not address each other in such a manner."

Jim's eyes met Miasma's, his own with a spark of mischief. He repeated, with deliberate emphasis, "Shut up."

"I will make you shut up." The words were a low growl, a promise with sensual undertones. It was Jim's only warning.

Miasma closed the distance between them, his lips capturing Jim's in a searing kiss. Jim gasped, a breathy moan escaping him as he melted into the touch. Miasma's hand left his face, trailing a path up his arm to his neck, the warmth of his touch sending shivers of delight down Jim's spine. He leaned into the embrace, surrendering to the intoxicating sensation of Miasma's lips moving against his own.

Miasma rose from kneeling, their lips never parting, their kiss only deepening as he gently guided Jim's head back. He leaned over Jim, his towering figure casting a shadow over his lover. Miasma's tongue traced the outline of Jim's lips, a silent plea for entrance, and Jim, lost in the moment, eagerly parted his lips with a soft moan. Their tongues danced, exploring every inch of each other's mouths.

They paused only for the briefest of moments, gasping for air, before diving back into their fervent embrace. Jim, overwhelmed by the intensity of their kiss, squirmed in his seat, his body humming with a potent energy. Mindless groans escaped his lips as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. It was no surprise that a kiss from a divine being could ignite such an inferno within a mortal soul, and Miasma, ever attuned to Jim's desires, was ready to fulfill his every whim. 

Miasma pulled away with a sharp gasp. He pressed his forehead against Jim's, their breaths mingling in the space between.

 "You are so quick to..." Miasma began, his voice a hushed whisper that trailed off, leaving the unspoken accusation hanging in the air. He hoped Jim would understand the implication, the way his heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Jim's lips curved into a playful smirk as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Miasma's cheek. His hands, which had somehow found their way to Miasma's sides, traced the delicate curve of his ribs, slowly exploring downwards. 

"You are too," Jim murmured, his voice barely audible above Miasma's shallow breaths. His hands finally came to rest on the angel's hips, fingers gently pressing against the bones.

Miasma let out a low growl, his sharp fangs glinting in the dim light as he snapped at Jim playfully. His own hands reached out, gripping Jim's waist and pulling him closer. With a sudden surge of strength, he lifted Jim from his seat, their bodies pressing against each other.

Jim winced involuntarily, a reflexive flinch despite the deep-seated trust that assured him Miasma would never inflict pain he didn't crave. Miasma's lips returned to his with renewed fervor, a possessive pressure that guided Jim's back towards the cool surface of the wall. With a subtle but undeniable force, he was pressed against it. Miasma's hands, insistent and warm, moved over Jim's form, seeking out the buttons of his black dress shirt. A moment of fumbling ensued, fingers brushing against fabric, before the first few buttons were undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin beneath.

Jim responded eagerly, his own fingers traced the contours of Miasma's robes. The positioning prevented Jim from returning Miasma's favor, so instead, he slid his hands beneath the silken layers, finding their way to the warmth within. Miasma's breath hitched sharply, a gasp escaping his lips at the unexpected sensation of Jim's cooler hands gliding along the bare expanse of his chest.

Miasma's lips sought the warmth of Jim's neck, his breath ghosting over Jim's skin as he concentrated on unbuttoning his shirt.  Lost in the anticipation of touch, Jim's hands fumbled with the buttons, only to be brushed aside by Miasma's insistent touch.  A trail of kisses followed, each one a searing brand upon the gradually exposed expanse of Jim's chest.  Reaching the elegant curve of his collarbone, Miasma's lips lingered, teeth grazing the skin before drawing a deep, lingering suck.

"Careful-" Jim gasped, a tremor running through him at the unexpected sting. Miasma growled low in his throat, a sound of possessive pleasure, continuing his exploration with nips and kisses until, with a final release, he pulled back to reveal a mark.  The sight of it, raw and intimate, sent a jolt of desire through both of them, the evidence clear in the tightening of their pants. 

"It will be covered by this useless thing," Miasma murmured, his voice husky with amusement. He held up Jim's discarded shirt, dangling it between them before letting it fall to the floor. In one fluid motion, he pressed his hips against Jim's, the sudden contact drawing a sharp gasp from Jim's lips.

“Sh-shit!” Jim whined, feeling Miasma wasting no time in beginning to move. He looked up to see Miasma's eyes staring into his very soul, sending another jolt of pleasure through his body as well as pulling another needy moan from his throat. 

Miasma responded with nothing, his body entirely focused on the feeling as his eye twitched, moving his hips as fast as he could in this position. A few pleasured sighs left him, each noise making Jim's cock jump the same way Jim's noises made Miasma's. 

As Miasma went on, his sighs began more aggressive, more rapid, turning into hisses through grit teeth. He leaned in, pressing a few kisses to Jim's cheek before whispering into his ear.

“You are going to let me do this here?” Miasma cooed.  “In a church?”

"You're asking me?" Jim's laughed breathily, but was abruptly silenced by the angel's relentless advance. His bright and teasing smile melted away under the intensity, leaving behind an expression of desire in his half-lidded eyes. He found himself mirrored in Miasma's gaze, their eyes locked in a shared, unending passion. 

"I have done far worse." Miasma purred. His hands slid down Jim's back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine before hooking onto the waistband of his pants. With a slow, deliberate tease, he began to undo the button and unzip the fly, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through Jim's frame.

Jim's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes fixated on the movements of Miasma's hands. Blush creeper up his neck, coloring his cheeks rose as he felt the first hint of cool air against his heated skin. His lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping as Miasma's fingers brushed against his hipbone.

"We could do this at home-" Jim said, voice catching in his throat. He was unsure if he truly wanted to wait, or if he was driven by a sinful impulse, a desire to witness the raw desperation in Miamsa's eyes. 

Miamsa's responded with a slow, deliberate shake of his head as he lowered himself to the ground. 

"I tell you all the time, lamb,” Miasma began, his voice low and husky, "God does not concern Himself with us as much as you think He does. He cares little for the fleeting desires of men. Your heart is with Him, yes?”

Miamsa leaned forward, pressing a trail of feather-light kisses across the curve of Jim's hip as Jim nodded frantically. His hands found their way to Jim's thighs, kneading the muscles with a touch that sent shivers down Jim's spine.

"What about what the Bible says-?” Jim asked, his fingers threading through the curly strands of Miasma's hair. He had heard it countless times before, yet a primal urge within him yearned to hear it once more, to savor the words as they fell from his lips like sacred honey, to justify his sins. Who better to seek justification than from this angel? No wonder the congregation loved him so much. 

Miasma chuckled lightly. "Recommendations, my love," he murmured, "mere suggestions for a path that leads towards righteousness. But remember, the divine desire is not for you to merely exist beside godliness, but to embrace it fully." His eyes gazed into his very essence. "As backwards as it may seem, denying yourself pleasures strays you from Him, since you do not trust he will forgive you for such desires. God, above all else, wants you to be happy, Jim."

Suddenly, his palm pressed firmly between his legs offering no warning. The unexpected yet welcomed touch stole the breath from Jim's lungs as a gasp escaped his lips in shock. His hand flew up to cover his mouth. 

"Does this make you happy, Jim?" Miasma whispered, his voice a tantalizing blend of innocence and seduction. 

"Yes!" Jim blurted out, the word a gasp escaping his lips. He couldn't hold back any longer, pressing himself against Miasma's hand that rubbed firmly over his boxers. Miasma responded with a pleased hum, stroking back in time with the movements of Jim's hips.

 "Very good." Miasma purred.

"See? It is good." His praise washed over Jim, a wave of approval that made his heart pound even faster.

“Fuck,” Jim heaved out, unable to resist the temptation to pull his own boxers down, having grown far too impatient. He sighed at the cool air that hit his throbbing, warm cock, twitching even more at Miasma's unsuspecting hand moving up and rubbing against the bare skin.

Miasma let out a low chuckle, the sound tinged with an amused condescension. "Impatient.” he purred, the word laced with a playful bite. Despite his teasing, he increased his pace. Jim, caught off guard by the sudden acceleration, instinctively reached out, his hands grasping at the rough texture of Miasma's horns. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and intense pleasure. Miasma tilted his head slightly with a curious expression before moving forward to drag a long lick up to his tip. 

Jim's low groan echoed in the room, a deep sound of raw need that vibrated in the air.  He tightened his grip on Miasma's horns. Miasma's attempt to retreat, to keep teasing him, was met with an unyielding pull, forcing him closer. A smirk stretched across Jim's face, lips parting as he pushed himself in Miasma's mouth, heart fluttering at the sound of his surprised squeak. 

Miasma got to work immediately, taking Jim's forceful guidance as a sign he would no longer tolerate his teases. Neither of them spoke, too distracted to exchange words; obscene wet noises, ragged breaths, and needy moans replaced where a conversation would be. 

Miasma bobbed his head up and down, closing his eyes, pulling all the way back to lick around the tip for a few seconds before Jim stuffed himself back down his throat. Miasma always enjoyed this very balanced power dynamic - the way Miasma would take the lead at first, and as Jim got more riled up, he became more demanding. Showing him exactly what he wanted. And Miasma was always so eager to comply, to make his human mate feel ecstatic. 

“Fuck-” Jim choked, a slight break in his voice indicating he was approaching climax. Miasma had done this time and time again, learning his partner's body, what worked, what didn't. He had learned not to go quicker or harder when he was close, and to instead keep the same, steady rhythm of his head. He opened his eyes, giving Jim a pathetic puppy dog look, unable to stop the smile upon receiving a hiss through Jim's grit teeth in response. 

“I'm- I'm-” Jim stammered, hands moving down to tug Miasma's hair. Miasma did not budge, giving Jim every ounce of what he had to offer before finally releasing, closing his eyes and grinning ear to ear as Jim finished across his face with a guttural groan.

Jim's breath was ragged and uneven as he fought to regain his composure. His eyes, wide with a mixture of exhaustion and awe, fixated on the scene before him that sat on his knees. Miasma had already swiped his fingers into the heart of the mess on his face. He lifted his hand, the thick, viscous substance clinging to his skin like a second layer, and with an almost primal enthusiasm, drew his fingers to his mouth. A satisfied groan rumbled in his chest as he savored the taste, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous grin. He consumed as much as he could swipe up, naturally leaving behind some stickiness. Yet, there was no hint of disgust or annoyance in his expression.

Miasma pulled himself from the ground. His eyes rested on Jim with an expression of adoration, as though he were gazing upon a masterpiece. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Jim's damp forehead. 

"Feeling better?" Miasma inquired, his voice a low purr laced with playful teasing. Jim, still slightly breathless, let out a soft sigh that mingled with a light chuckle. He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, though a faint blush warmed his cheeks, as he adjusted his pants and refastened his belt.

"Much... much better.”

[xxdoubledaisyxx]

Yes all this is free for you to enjoy. I do not intend to charge you or make you feel guilty.

I believe the phrase is "paying it forward", except this is more of a cooperative gesture. The only problem is that not everyone seems to be aware that to make the best products you need the assistance and technology of a professional media industry to do so.

Whatever the hell that thing is, it looks like an abandoned old house a black and white all-time Christmas movie favorite. I think I'd put this 4 out of ten on my list, and with respect to others will say no more. Considering the gravity of the declaration.

I confess that these tools of the trade are ones I found, very much like a certain count found the prowess of his body in another tale. They were in a book, prominently challenging all readers in full unabridged form in nearly every jail dorm library, written by Alexandre Dumas.

I do not believe he finished the tale. I believe there was an interuption by a nefarious interloper who forced changes in the flow of the story with an act of passion. This passion was also affective of me, and I was so furious I spurned Dumas from the disciples of Story as a betrayer to the Evil One.

On the bright side, his work with Monty Cristo, the Count, serves adequately enough as a passing mark. I read the abridged version, and perhaps it was a mercy to us both. You certainly did not deserve that wrath, but I did not deserve that insult from such a long dead ghost.

Buckingham deserved better because the people of England deserved better. Perhaps the corruption then was at the pope, who demanded the fear of the nations as the fear of God, and I do not disagree with such a possibility. Considering their goals as a community of Christians, it is not a problem if they require global acknowledgment through one singular order of sacred tradition, over a vast enough time span to forever imprint in reality a vision of the distance between God and Sophia; Love and Wisdom.

I am probably not a bear as a spirit animal, but I definitely know how that anime character feels. I think I'm more like a coyote, instead of a wolf as a comparison. Not that it's a problem now.

Have you ever heard of Zitkala Sa? The lovely maiden herself is responsible for the graceful hands which penned those ultimate Native American tales into the Halls of Remembrance and forever; the tales of cosmos and chaos for her people, alive and well to this day and forever.

The tales I read which familiarized me with the depth of identity that is revelated in the (that's a real word? choombasa 🙏) coyote. Two coyotes, in particular. The sly one, and the wise one.

That put things in perspective.

While flying on a plane somewhere, which seems kind of significant not only because of flying. I did a lot of that and have never really been at home anywhere. Not once in my entire life.

Seriously. That's what you get when you Christ Jesus, and we did. It's not your fault, nor is it mine, and it's taken care of anyway. I dealt it the way of the story, and that was that.

(It is most rare for a storyteller's good works to make it into the Divine Order of Story's with their own selves as a disciple. Usually... the story they create is rebuilt into another work or refined into something else long before their talents have drawn them to the Halls of Remembrance and inspired them to become an initiate if they were not born into the community locally before undertaking the life-threatening trials of Story. Pure.

Nobody survives that. I guess except me, but I just had to do it again anyway since they didn't "believe me" and you cannot in fact survive it anymore because the way I found was the only way, and they blocked it forever with their pure evil actions. (I had to prove all this in court, and it was the most bull shit initiation rite to ever mar the "sacred records" of the court. Forget about it. It was dealt with, and it only proves that I'm truly a badass in real life no matter what the situation is. systems.)

Mindless, but pure evil actions anyway with government power behind those actions. That government power has more gravity than any individual no matter who you are, thus, even though those idiots had some crazy schem and plan to take over the world, one which would have worked too-- if it were not for the one thing that will never change.

I will stop you.

(If her Nepiness does not stop you first.)

[pamphletstoinspire]

Meditations of St. Padre Pio – Part 2 A

Padre Pio was at the height of his priestly apostolate with multitudes of pilgrims visiting him, for his Mass, to confess to him, and to ask him for prayers and counsel. He was a master of souls; he directed everyone with penetrating words full of deep meaning. His series of "Meditations" was the first complete text of Padre Pio's thoughts. These texts consists of Padre Pio's meditations upon the fundamental dogmas of the Catholic faith. The Immaculate Conception and the Incarnation of Jesus. He then relives Jesus' agony in the garden of olives. Next he reflects on the human condition, and on our need to turn to God in the passing of our days. These are not conventional texts; they are reflections derived from the contemplation of the absolute Truth. “Mary Immaculate” is a more theological text. The others are more human and simple.

Padre Pio, in the first years of his residence in San Giovanni Rotondo (1918 – 1920), when he was freer from the care of souls, wrote a few meditations for his novices and his spiritual daughters of the Franciscan Third Order. They were the text of his lectures or instructions that he gave weekly as their Spiritual Director. After that, between the years 1925 – 1928, Padre Pio compiled other meditations. Fr. Agostino of San Marco in Lamis affirms it in his "Diary:" The Provincial, Fr. Bernardo of Alpicella, once suggested to Padre Pio to “compile a few meditations for the principal feasts of the year for our seminarians.” When Padre Pio was shown the possibility of publishing these meditations, he said: "I have written these things for myself." But, when it was explained to him that "they would do a lot of good to our souls" he smilingly said: "if it is as you say, bonum est diffu sivum sui (good, by its nature, is destined to be spread).

First Meditation - Christmas Season

J. M. J. – D. F. C. Note: The initials J. M. J. – D. F. C. Stands for Jesus, Mary, Joseph – Dominic, Francis, Catherine

At dead of night in the harshest of seasons, in the coldest of caves, a more suitable dwelling for beasts than human beings, the promised Messiah, Jesus, the Savior of men sees the light in the fullness of time. No fuss surrounds him, an ox and an ass warm the poor newborn Infant, a lowly woman and a poor man are there by his side to adore him. No sound can be heard except the whimpering cries of the Infant God. By these cries and whimpering he offers to the divine justice the first payment for our reconciliation.

For fully forty centuries he had been expected; with desire the ancient Fathers had appealed for his coming, the sacred writers had clearly prophesied the place and time of his birth, yet all is silence around him and no one seems to be aware of this great event. Only some time later is he visited by shepherds who have been watching their flocks in the fields. They are notified of the marvelous event by heavenly spirits and invited to go to the cave where he lies.

O Christians, what lessons and how many do we receive from the cave of Bethlehem! Oh, how our hearts ought to be inflamed with love for the One who has become all tenderness for us. Oh, how we ought to burn with the desire to lead the entire world to this lowly grotto in which the King of Kings is sheltered, in a shelter finer than any royal palace since it is the throne and abode of God! Let us ask this Divine Child to clothe us with humility, for only by this virtue can we appreciate such a mystery of Divine tenderness. The palaces of proud Israel are glittering, yet it is not in these dwellings that the Light comes into the world. The magnates of the Jewish nation are haughty in their human greatness, they wallow in wealth and comfort. The priest of the Temple are filled with vain knowledge and pride. Contrary to the true meaning of the divine revelations, they have diminished the image of the Savior whom they expect to come into the world with human pomp and power. But God who is always ready to confound the wisdom of this world has upset their plans and, contrary to the expectations of those who are lacking in divine wisdom, he comes down among us in the greatest abjection. He even refuses to be born in Joseph's humble home, he refuses a modest lodging among relatives and acquaintances in the city of Judah and like an outcast seeks refuge and help from poor animals, choosing their abode as his birthplace and their breath to warm his tender little body. He allows poor rough shepherds to pay him the first honors, those whom he himself has informed of the great mystery by means of his angels.

O wisdom and power of God, we are compelled to cry out ecstatically with the Apostle, how incomprehensible are your judgments and how unsearchable your ways. Poverty, humility, abjection and contempt surround the Word Made Flesh. But in the darkness which envelops the Incarnate Word we understand something, we hear a voice, we catch a glimpse of a sublime truth. You have done all this out of love and you invite us to nothing but love, you speak of nothing but love, you give us nothing but proofs of love.

The heavenly Infant suffers and wails in the manger in order to make suffering lovable, meritorious and sought after by us, He lacks everything so that we may learn from him to give up the goods and comforts of this world. He is pleased to have poor and humble adorers in order to induce us to love poverty and prefer the company of the humble and simple rather than that of the great ones of this world. This heavenly Child all meekness and tenderness wants to instill these sublime virtues into our hearts by his example, so that an era of peace and love may dawn on this disordered and utterly confused world. From the moment of his birth he points out to us our mission, which is to despise the things to which the world is attached and which it seeks.

Oh, let us bow down before the manger and with the great St. Jerome, the Saint inflamed with love for the Infant Jesus, let us offer him our whole heart without reserve, and promise him that we shall follow the teachings we receive from the cave of Bethlehem, telling us that everything here below is vanity of vanities and nothing but vanity.

[shammah8]

🕊️🌺Wendy🌺🕊️:

God, one flash of light on the Word of God, is sufficient to save us from a thousand pitfalls. People have built without a word from God, they have bought things without a word from God, and they have been ensnared. They have lacked that word of wisdom which will bring them into God’s plan for their lives. I have been in many places where I have needed a word of wisdom from God and this has been vouchsafed.

I will give you one instance. There is one thing I am very grateful to the Lord for, and that is that He has given me grace not to have a desire for money. The love of money is a great hindrance to many; and many a man is crippled in his ministry because he lets his heart run after financial matters. I was walking out one day when I met a godly man who lived opposite me and he said, “My wife and I have been talking together about selling our house and we feel constrained to sell it to you.” As we talked together he persuaded me to buy his place, and before we said good-by I told him that I would take it. We always make big mistakes when we are in a hurry. I told my wife what I had promised, and she said, “How will you manage it?” I told her that I had managed things so far, but I did not know how I was going to get through this. I somehow knew that I was out of divine order. But when a fellow gets out of divine order it seems that the last person he goes to is God. I was relying on an architect to help me, but that scheme fell through. I turned to my relations and I certainly had a wet shirt as one after another turned me down. I tried my friends and managed no better. My wife said to me, “Thou hast never been to God Yet.” What could I do?

I have a certain place in our house where I go to pray. I Havebeen there very often. As I went I said, “Lord, i£ Y ou will get me out of this scrape, I will never trouble Thee on this line again.” As I waited on the Lord He just gave me one word. It seemed a ridiculous thing, but it was the wisest counsel. There is divine wisdom in every word He speaks. I came down to my wife, saying, “What do you think? The Lord has told me to go to Brother Webster.” I said, “It seems very ridiculous, for he is one of the poorest men I know.” He was the poorest man I knew, but he was also the richest man I knew, for he knew God.

My wife said, “Do What God says, and it will be right.”

I went off at once to see him, and he said as he greeted me, “Smith, what brings you so early?” I answered, “The word of God.” I said to him, “About three weeks ago I promised to buy a house of a man, and I am short 100 pounds ($500). I have tried to get this money, but somehow I seem to have missed God.” “How is it,” he asked, “that you have come to me only now?” I answered, “Because I went to the Lord about it only last night.” “Well,” he said, “it is a strange thing; three weeks ago I had 100 pounds. For years I have been putting money into a co-operative system and three weeks ago I had to go and draw 100 pounds out. I hid it under the mattress. Come with me and you shall have it. Take it. I hope it will bring as great a blessing to you as it has been a trouble to me.” I had had a word from God, and all my troubles were ended. This has been multiplied in a hundred ways since that time. If I had been walking along filled with the Holy Ghost, I would not lave bought that house and would not have had all that strain. I believe the Lord wants to loose us from things of earth. But I am ever grateful for that word from God. There have been timesin my life when I have been in great crises and under great weight of intercession. I have gone to the meeting without the knowledge of what I would say, but somehow or other God would vouchsafe the coming forth under the power of the Spirit of some word of wisdom, just what some souls in that meeting needed. As we look to God His mind will be made known, and His revelation and His word of wisdom will be forth coming.If thou shalt confess with thy mouth Jesus as Lord, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved” (Romans 10:9).

“For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 14:9).☕️Smith Wigglesworth

[dfroza]

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 14th of december 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Book of John, Chapter 15 • The Book of 2nd Samuel, Chapter 20]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 14 and Psalm 14 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 84 for the 84th day of Astronomical Autumn, and Psalm 49 for day 349 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

The Nearness of God...

“When I thought of nothing but to end my days in these troubles (which did not at all diminish the trust I had in God, and which served only to increase my faith), I found myself changed all at once, and my soul, which till that time, was in trouble, felt profound inward peace, as if she were in her center and place of rest." - Brother Lawrence

When he came to accept life on God’s terms rather than his own, Brother Lawrence found peace within his soul. This epiphany, or moment of revelation, changed everything, because accepting life on God’s terms meant that God was involved in every detail of his life, and therefore God was present and near at all times...

We cannot change ourselves, at least not our deepest self. True transformation comes from God, and change will take place by itself, that is, by God’s inner work within you. The process of spiritual growth is ultimately mysterious and divine: "The Kingdom of God is like someone who spreads seed on the ground. He goes to sleep and gets up, night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. By itself (αὐτομάτη, "automatically") the soil produces a crop, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. And when the grain is ripe, he comes in with his sickle because the harvest has come" (Mark 4:26-29).

God is doing the work of salvation within you, and all you can do is accept yourself as you are. As the apostle Paul wrote: χάριτι δὲ θεοῦ εἰμι ὅ εἰμι - “by the grace of God I am what I am.” The great “I am” of the LORD is the Source of your life, from the beginning to the end. And it is because of the grace of God that Yeshua tasted death for everyone (Heb. 2:9).

When we come to faith and undergo “regeneration,” or spiritual rebirth, the seed of His life is planted within us and the divine life begins to grow. Just as you did nothing to bring yourself into this world, so you can do nothing to bring yourself into God’s kingdom. Regeneration (and sanctification) is a miracle that comes “of the Spirit” (John 3:5,8).

We are witnesses of God’s miracle within us, and our only need is to trust in his plan for our lives, regardless of our present circumstances (Isa. 26:12; Jer. 29:11; Prov. 3:5-6). God’s plan includes the promise of heaven, but it also includes our inner struggles, our troubles, and our need. His plan includes a personal heart connection with you so that you come to know his love for you.

“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Selah” (Psalm 62:8). Pouring your heart out to God in an honest, spontaneous, and intensely personal way is called “hitbodedut” (הִתְבּוֹדְּדוּת) in Hebrew. We “pour out” (שׁפך) whatever is within us, both the bad and the good. We confess our temptations and failures, our need for his deliverance, our yearning for life, our sorrows, our joys, our fears and our hope. We show God what’s inside us, our intimate secrets, our “kishkes,” and hold nothing back...

After we “talk our hearts out” before the Lord, in our emptiness we can begin to truly listen, as it says, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength” (Isa. 30:15). Only after we sigh deeply and surrender are we receptive to the voice of the Spirit’s whisper. אַשְׁרֵי כָּל־חוֹכֵי לוֹ - “Blessed are all those who wait for Him” (Isa. 30:18). We wait, we abide, we persevere -- even when God seems to “take his time” or does not immediately intervene in ways we might apprehend. We do not lose heart, for we find strength when we trust in God’s love... The Light of the world still shines: Yeshua, be my inner word, my heart, and my groaning for life today, and forevermore: Amen.

I’ve mentioned before that there are two relationships you will always have in your life: one with yourself, and the other with God. The "self" is really an inner dialog within the heart and ultimately it is a conversation with God. You cannot know who you are apart from God, though tragically people can suppress God’s presence and live a life of madness.... Sanity comes by the miracle of rebirth. Knowing God’s presence transforms the heart forever.

Open your heart and look to the Lord. Hide nothing and trust in mercy that changes you. “Come unto me,” Yeshua says. Come as you are. If you hear the inward call, he will give you the means and courage to come; he will impart grace to trust him that redeems you by his love. As you open your heart in trust, the Lord becomes your Refuge, and you will know Him in all your ways.

­[ prayer ]

“I can’t change... you surely know that. Or I won’t change, because I don’t know how or I can’t find the willingness. You know this too. I am emptiness within. Apart from you I am nothing. My heart pants; it’s hard to breathe; I am a vapor, my heart opens in my powerlessness and in my hope. There is nothing left of me; I come to you, just as I am, and as I do I am set free from myself, because you alone are the substance and heart of my life. Though I don’t understand whatever happens, and often I feel anxious and afraid, I find myself in you. Beloved. Accepted. Redeemed. Healed. I find my hope in your presence, LORD. Hold me fast and keep me close to your heart always. Amen.”

Shabbat shalom chaverim...

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 62:8 audio:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm62-8-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm62-8-lesson.pdf

12.13.24 • Facebook

from Today’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

"Something you say or something you do is a taste of the Divine." - medieval or dbd Taruko

✧ ━━ 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 : 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

The cool night air enveloped Haruko and Tarhos as they lay entwined on a bed of fallen hay in the desolate outskirts of Scattered Square; they had finally found a moment of quiet solitude - there was no time to waste. The gentle rustle of the hay beneath them mingled with the soft whispers that had been passing between them, creating a cocoon of intimacy in the abandoned landscape. But really what else was to be expected between them? Haruko's fingers delicately traced the curves of Tarhos' lips as he took his chance to admire the lines forming the contours of his lover's face.

As they lay together, their bodies slotted perfectly like pieces of a puzzle, quiet words filled the air as Haruko's gaze lingered. Even just the curve of Tarhos' brow was a masterpiece in the dim light to his wife; he was absolutely beautiful. His scars were ravines carved by the rivers of time, and his eyes held the entire ocean within their irises. As he leaned in to capture Knight's lips in a kiss, a whispered confession met his ear and sent a rush of emotion through his being. His heart danced in his chest - pulled by the delicate thread which had sewn their souls together so long ago.

Haruko closed the distance between them almost instantly and as he melted into his lover's warm embrace, a sense of completeness washed over him, filling every crevice of his being with a sense of belonging. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the heat of their bodies intertwined. A soft smile graced his lips as he felt the slight prickle of stubble on Tarhos' cheeks against his own skin, urging the kiss to deepen once Haruko tilted his head in tandem with his husband. One hand found its place on Tarhos' chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his palm, while the other effortlessly weaved through the Knight's long, hair, reveling in its softness.

Haruko knew that his hands would never be able to hold enough of his lover to satisfy him, for Tarhos was his home, his heart, and his everything. As their parted lips retreated reluctantly, a silent plea lingering in the air, Haruko felt a yearning deep within his soul to press his affections onto his true love, to claim him as his own all over again -

"A taste? Mm … Then I am completely yours to feast upon, my beloved."

[zaruba-needslove]

Greetings once more, Izzu. Now that we've laid eyes upon the Winter Movie trailer, I find myself compelled to share my musings.

As usual, I think you're my safe space for airing anything that's related to Keiwa.

I must confess, there's a subtle pang of disappointment resonating within me. It appears the movie's plot remains entrenched in the game show paradigm, a choice that, truth be told, doesn't entirely align with my expectations. I had harbored a faint hope that the Geats characters would be liberated from the shackles of competition, reminiscent of the TTFC specials where contests were conspicuously absent.

In an ideal world, I envisioned the Geats characters engaging in activities sans the burden of competing against each other.

On a tangentially related note, while perusing your narratives on Ao3, I couldn't help but admire your ingenious treatment of Keiwa. To be frank, I harbored a desire for the winter movie to adopt a plot more akin to yours, but alas, reality has dictated otherwise.

The sinister hands of the Abyssalis Sisters, who ensnared the hapless Keiwa, coaxing forth his malice to birth a Malevolent Fusion - an Appare Bushido Malgam.

As the cursed Keiwa, donned in the shadows of the Appare Bushido Malgam, wreaked havoc upon the academy, Buffa and Na-go, valiant in their attempt to fight the Malgam, not knowing that it was Keiwa, were met with a chilling revelation - for it was Keiwa himself who emerged as the menacing Malgam. Desperation clouded their faces as they sought to awaken him, yet he remained an unyielding specter of malice.

Sara, driven by desperation, endeavored to break Keiwa free from the Abyssalis Sisters' grip. Though successful in snapping him out momentarily, their sinister control surged anew, compelling Keiwa to turn against his own sister, forcing a swift retreat by all.

Buffa, Na-go, Gotchard, and Rinne sought refuge at a sacred shrine, encountering Tsumuri. In unity, all five inscribed pleas on the tablets, beseeching the divine for intervention. And lo, Ace, a godly presence, answered their call. Maybe even add Sara to that list of characters asking for godly help.

In an unexpected alliance, Keiwa and Houtarou forged a united front against the corrupted Malgam, emerging from the shackles of mind control. Together, they confronted a formidable adversary, bringing closure to this dark chapter.

The Tycoon Bujin Sword, Geats IX, and the enhanced form of Gotchard executed a powerful rider kick, sealing the fate of the "special" Malgam.

Oh wow.... this whole musing was like so awesome! Also I love the idea of Keiwa getting entangled into yet another evil plot 😂😂😂😂😂

Keiwa really do make a nice Damsel in Distress 😂😂😂

And now you're making me feel bad that this musing wasn't what we're gonna get for Winter movie www. Malgam Keiwa had this attractive appeal roflmao Can't really get enough of mind-controlled Keiwa plots 😀

[steveezekiel]

WHAT SOURCE DOES THAT SUPERNATURAL GIFT IN YOU HAS? 2

16. Now it happened, as we went to prayer, THAT A CERTAIN SLAVE GIRL POSSESSED WITH A SPIRIT OF DIVINATION MET US, who brought her masters much profit by fortune-telling.

17. This girl followed Paul and us, and cried out, saying, “THESE MEN ARE THE SERVANTS OF THE MOST HIGH GOD, who proclaim to us the way of salvation.”

Acts 16:16,17 (NKJV)

18. And many who had believed came CONFESSING AND TELLING THEIR DEEDS.

19. ALSO, MANY OF THOSE who had PRACTICED MAGIC BROUGHT THEIR BOOKS TOGETHER AND BURNED THEM IN THE SIGHT OF ALL. And they counted up the value of them, and it totaled fifty thousand pieces of silver."

Acts 19:18,19 (NKJV)

• Some are deluded.

A young lady was sharing with me that she has the gift of the Holy Spirit operating in her life from childhood.

I asked her When did she give her life to Christ Jesus. She mentioned the time, and I told her that the gift she talked about is not of God.

- The source of the gift could not have been God, because the gift had been operational in her life ever before she accepted Christ Jesus as her Saviour and Lord. She did argue and could not agree with what I told her.

- There are many in the church today who claimed to have one gift of the Holy Spirit or another, but such gifts they talk about are not of God. They are not the gifts of the Holy Spirit at all! Such are familiar spirits, spirit of divination, soothsaying, sorcery, and the like.

- Such people know the truth and reality of it, but a good number of them pretend as if they are ignorant of the truth. Some of such people believe the end justifies the means!

- They want to believe that, even if the so-called gifts of the spirit are of the devil, since they are using them for good, to minister to other people; it thus made such gifts acceptable to God.

- Another person who has such a gift quoted a Scripture to substantiate the legitimacy of the gift: "For the GIFTS AND CALLING of God ARE WITHOUT REPENTANCE" (Romans 11:29 KJV) the person said.

- The person said God does give gifts to everyone, even those who have not repented—those who are not born-again.

BUT that passage of the Bible does not mean that, it was wrongly interpreted.

- I want us to see that Bible passage in other translations:

* "For once they are made, GOD DOES NOT WITHDRAW HIS GIFTS OF HIS CALLING" (Romans 11:29 Philips).

* "FOR THE GIFTS and THE CALLING OF GOD ARE IRREVOCABLE" (Romans 11:29 NKJV).

* "FOR God’s GIFTS and HIS CALL CAN NEVER BE WITHDRAWN" (Romans 11:29 NLT).

* "FOR THE GIFTS and THE CALLING OF GOD ARE IRREVOCABLE [for He does not withdraw what He has given, nor does He change His mind about those to whom He gives His grace or to whom He sends His call]" (Romans 11:29 Amps).

- What the author of that Bible passage says does not imply that God gives gifts to those who have not repented. What he said is that God does not change His mind when He does give gifts and call someone to be used.

- The calling and the Gifts without repentance according to King James Bible means, God does not repent or change His mind when He called someone and decided to use the person for His purpose.

- Therefore, the baptism of the Holy Spirit is not for those who are not born-again.

- Since whoever would receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit must have the Person of the Holy Spirit on the inside of him or her, thus, someone who has not been baptized in the Holy Spirit cannot have the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

THE Holy Spirit is the seal of God's ownership on those who have accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour:

13 In Him [Christ] you also trusted, AFTER YOU HEARD THE WORD OF TRUTH, THE GOSPEL OF YOUR SALVATION; in whom also, HAVING BELIEVED, YOU WERE SEALED WITH THE HOLY SPIRIT OF PROMISE" (Ephesians 1:13 NKJV).

READ: Romans 8:9; 2 Corinthians 1:22; Ephesians 4:30.

- Someone who is seeing into the realm of the spirit as an unbeliever could not claim that the gift of revelation with which he or she is seeing into the realm of spirit, is FROM the Holy Spirit—God. Not at all!

- The Holy Spirit does not give gifts to those who are not reborn! Any supernatural gift being operated by someone who is not born-again does not have its source from God.

AN unbeliever cannot receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the Gifts of the Holy Spirit:

16 And I [Jesus Christ] will pray the Father [God], and He will give you another HELPER [the Holy Spirit], that He may abide with you forever—17 THE SPIRIT OF TRUTH, WHOM THE WORLD [the unbelievers] CANNOT RECEIVE, because it [the world, the unbeliever] neither sees Him nor knows Him; BUT YOU [Believers] KNOW HIM, FOR HE DWELLS WITH YOU AND WILL BE IN YOU" (John 14:16,17 NKJV).

• What are the implications if you do NOT renounce whatever belongs to the devil, and the implication, if you are NOT committed to Christ fully after your claim of being born-again.

* The gift or whatever of the devil which you still have with you, gives him, the devil, a place in your life.

IT serves as a legal ground for him to operate in your life.

* The devil can easily rob you of the benefits and blessings of God's Kingdom because you have his property or gifted in your life.

* Also, God will not be able to use you maximally, being that the devil is still claiming ownership of your life because his property or gifted is in your life.

* In additions, you may experience things like: If you are a bachelor girl who is still believing God for a partner, the devil may stand on your way in getting one, he may not allow you to settle down and have a family. AND at times, if you succeeded in marrying, you may have a delay in having children.

- The devil would want to frustrate you, would not want you to enjoy the benefits of the Kingdom of God, since you still have what belongs to him with you. Not only on marriage, the devil may stand to fight your finances, health, or whatever.

THE devil may even want to contend for your soul that you are his, after your journey on earth! He may want to drag you to hell: "Yet Michael the archangel, IN CONTENDING [arguing] WITH THE DEVIL, WHEN HE DISPUTED ABOUT THE BODY OF MOSES..." (Jude 9).

- If any incriminating thing, a property that belongs to the devil, is found in your life, he may either lay claim on your body or soul like he did that of Moses at the end of your journey on earth (Jude 8,9).

* The devil also could cause you to remain shallow in the things of the Spirit, the things of the Kingdom of God. The genuine Gifts of the Holy Spirit would not be operational in your Life, because you already have the counterfeit.

- For whoever wants to be used of God should cleanse himself or herself and be a vessel of HONOUR and GOLD:

19 Nevertheless the solid foundation of God stands, having this seal: “The Lord knows those who are His,” and, “LET EVERYONE WHO NAMES THE NAME OF CHRIST DEPART FROM INIQUITY.”

20 But in a great house there are not only vessels of GOLD and silver, but also of wood and clay, some for HONOUR and some for dishonour. 21 THEREFORE IF ANYONE CLEANSES HIMSELF FROM THE LATTER, HE WILL BE A VESSEL FOR HONOUR, SANCTIFIED AND USEFUL FOR THE MASTER, PREPARED FOR EVERY GOOD WORK" (2 Timothy 2:19-21 NKJV).

- You cannot partake from the table of God and that of the devil:

19 What am I saying then? That an idol is anything, or what is offered to idols is anything?

20 Rather, that the things which the Gentiles sacrifice they sacrifice to DEMONS AND NOT TO GOD, AND I DO NOT WANT YOU TO HAVE FELLOWSHIP WITH DEMONS. 21 YOU CANNOT DRINK THE CUP OF THE LORD AND THE CUP OF DEMONS; YOU CANNOT PARTAKE OF THE LORD'S TABLE AND OF THE TABLE OF DEMONS" (1 Corinthians 10:19-21 NKJV).

• You will not fail in Jesus' name.

Peace!

TO BE CONTINUED

[erabundus]

he  wonders  if  this  counts  as  PROGRESS,  or  if  the  only  thing  he's  truly  succeeded  in  is  digging  this  hole  all  the  deeper.  the  hurt,  the  betrayal  the  revelation  begets  has  an  uncomfortable  feeling  twisting  in  the  pit  of  his  nonexistent  stomach  —  and  how  ironic  that  is,  when  he  once  sank  blades  betwixt  the  shoulders  of  those  naïve  enough  to  TRUST  HIM  as  though  it  were  a  form  of  art.   ❝  not  exactly.  ❞  ren  confesses.  speaking  slowly,  taking  great  care  to  choose  his  words.   ❝  they  know.  they've  always  known  what  i  am ...  it's  everyone  else  i'd  prefer  to  keep  in  the  dark  about  this.  ❞   a  flicker  of  uneasiness  flashes  across  delicate  features  —  brief,  yet  surprisingly  genuine.  ❝  believe  it  or  not,  i  don't  keep  it  a  secret  because  i  take  great  joy  in  fooling  other  people.  ❞  it's  just  as  much  for  his  own  protection,  reluctant  though  he  is  to  admit  it.

he  would  prefer  to  cling  to  these  vague  truths  and  explanations  without  elaboration,  but  the  general  mahamata  is  clearly  not  the  sort  to  feel  satisfied  with  mere  scraps.  indigo  gaze  flicks  down;  ren  looks  at  his  own  upturned  palms  and  says,  ❝  there  was  never  anyone  else.  i've  always  been  this.  ❞   not  mortal.  not  divine.  some  anomaly,  existing  on  the  thin  line  drawn  between  the  two.   ❝  i  was  a  puppet  built  by  the  electro  archon  some  centuries  ago.  unsatisfied  with  her  creation,  she ...  chose  to  abandon  me.  ❞  his  voice  wears  thin,  dangerously  close  to  breaking.  regardless  of  the  risk,  the  wanderer  squeezes  his  eyes  shut  for  a  moment  —  clawing  together  scraps  of  the  composure  that  sees  fit  to  BETRAY  him  so.

❝  now  isn't  the  time  or  place  to  go  into  the  details.  ❞  ren  quickly  continues.  partly  because  he  assumes  talking  at  length  about  the  myriad  of  ATROCITIES  committed  at  his  hands  will  do  him  no  favors.   ❝  lesser  lord  kusanali  and  the  traveler  are  responsible  for  shedding  some  light  on  a  particularly  reprehensible  deception  i  had  been  led  to  believe  for  many  years ...  so  i've  sworn  allegiance  to  them  until  i've  paid  back  what  i  owe.  as you can imagine, something  like  me  would  make  for  an  awfully  USEFUL  asset  to  have.  ❞

He knew those words very well. But while the day he'd spoken them their memory had filled Cyno with warmth and pride, now he felt anything but. He remembered those teachings to heart, and still, even he would be hard-pressed to recite them in a perfectly identical manner such as the way the indigo-eyed person did just now.

No, it wasn't just the words. The inflection in his voice too did not belong to him. Listening, Cyno had the eerie impression to be listening to a recording of his own voice, more so than Ren repeating after him. It wasn't exactly the same, but the feeling was unshakable. It made him sick.

Realizing that the one who stood before him now was the very same he'd met that day. From the very beginning... It'd been this guy.

He should've known. He should've listened to his own guts back then, instead of just letting his faith blind him...

"... They worried about you. Lord Kusanali... the Traveler, too." He said through jaws so tight it hurt. "You've been lying to them this whole time?!"

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

later | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; fluff, confessions, deku is smooth, kissing, fluff, fem!reader implied i think 

➳ wc ;; 2.4k (wtf) 

➳ a/n ;; brainrot...... 

➳ plot ;; izuku midoriya listens to you when you tell him to confess to you again later. he’s waited his whole life for you but he doesn’t know how much longer he can

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

He thinks to himself often that it has to be you he’s been chasing all this time. 

This isn’t so much a revelation to him. It’s nothing like eureka moment, an aha that he uncovers after years of reflection. After all, he’s not the type to know what he really wants. 

Which is funny for many reasons but mostly because he’s a hero. He did want that, still does - but it wasn’t really an active choice. It wasn’t the desire to become a hero in terms of glamour and fame but a deep-seated knowing about the fact he had to become one. That the desire to save people above all else was rooted and deeply ingrained in him that there would never be anything that would fulfill him quite the same way. 

He finds it more often than not he’s acting out of pure instinct. Something carnal and perhaps other-worldly that pins him to the world in an almost divine way. All or nothing, there’s one way to approach existence and it’s with this unwavering desire to be kind. 

He’s always been that kind of person.

But, if he sat down and thought about it, the desire to be with you is perhaps one of his own. It’s one of the only things he’d chase to the ends of the earth. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you since he was 14

The first time he ever confessed to you was when he was 15, about half way into his first year at U.A. It was outside of your apartment - your childhood home. He’d walk you there after his classes, when he caught you returning from your own. It was an awkward and clumsy teenage confession even then but he can remember the details clearly. 

It comes to him a series of images. Orange-yellow light that fell over your face, hairs sticking a little your head, trembling hands, ricocheting heartbeats, the sound of cars passing. He wasn’t very confident then, it makes him laugh thinking back at. But he told you anyways, bursting at the seams with his feelings. 

“I like you!” 

Your first reaction was shock immediately followed with a somber smile. Though he told you he had liked you, it was in the brief moment afterwards that he though there was more to it than that. He wouldn’t call it a rejection, but a wake-up call. You leaned in to kiss his cheek before whispering something back. 

“If you mean it,” ― you whisper, hand on his shoulder and eyes heavy ― “Tell me again later,” 

With that, you turned on your heel and went home. He wasn’t sure how to feel for a while, because it’s not like you said no. And you kissed him so that had to mean something.

Rather predictably after that, he became so caught up in hero work, it was only natural that you two grew distant. Once frequent conversations became words in passing, spoken quietly to each other. He went off to become a great hero, and you went off to study what you love. 

It was a natural occurrence - he knows this now. He wonders what kind of thinking you had to have been doing to know that at 15. The older he got, the more he thought about what you said. How the once vague mention of “later” became a narrow time-frame. Not a moment too soon and not a second too later. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you all of 8 years. For most of them, it’s been a passive yearning. The emptiness of his bedframe and his disinterest. 8 years and he’s tried and failed to love other people. Maybe he was testing if later would ever come. 

He’s 22 and he thinks to himself that he’s been chasing the feeling of loving you this whole time. That adrenaline from when you kissed his cheek all those years ago, he wonders to himself if it’s still there

He’ll have to go find out

_ 

After a night-out, you are unfortunately sober on the walk home. Work dinners should have a general policy for how much someone can drink, you think. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to shovel your boss into a taxi and remain regrettably conscious through a series of uncomfortable or agitating questions. 

It wasn’t like he was invasive but he was.. annoying? And the fact you couldn’t sit through it by downing half a bottle of wine was a real shame . You’re so stone cold sober that your body shivers in the night air. Heels clacking against the pavement, eyes heavy and exhausted. You could endure it, you were finally going home after all. 

You’d take a warm bath and hit the hay. Your body yearned for your bed and you don’t blame it. You sigh to yourself, hands in coat pockets. 

“Just a little bit more,” ― you sigh, yawning and wiping your eyes ― “A little more and I’ll be...home?” 

You were home, the front door to your building. There was an ominous looking figure sitting on the front steps. Your first reaction was to reach into your pockets and grab your keys between your knuckles. Your heart stuttered as you broached slowly. It was too dark to see clearly but maybe he was nice. 

“Uhm.. excuse me, sir” 

When he turns his head - your first reaction is to flinch. You step back as he turns his head only to grow stiff. A pair of warm green eyes and head of forest green locks await seems to be staring back at you. He gives you a warm smile - standing on his feet. 

In a way, he’s unrecognizable to you. Though you see him all the time, Pro-Hero Deku making news, the image of him in your head is permanently small and frail. In front of you now, he’s grown up to be so big. A whole head taller than you and broad. He’s lean but clearly muscular. Intimidating in a sense. 

“Ah, you’re home,” ― he says, non-chalant. You’re trying to recall the last time you spoke to him, the last time you’d even seen him. Maybe a year ago now? ― “I wanted to talk to you,”

Your first though is to ask questions. You had so many of them though, you’re not sure where to start. You want to ask how he’s been, and how did he find you, and how’s work going. You want to ask why he’s here after all this time and if following his dreams has made him happy how he hoped. You want to ask if he remember what he said to you at 15 - wondering if he still gets caught up on it like you do. 

None of your words seem to string together right so you just shake your head a little, managing your disbelief. 

“About what?” you ask. He pauses for a second, rubbing his chin before smiling at you. 

“It’s later,”

Your eyes widen as he steps out of the way, using his hands to gesture towards your apartment. You blink at him but his smile is as cheeky as ever. Teasing and unusually handsome. You flush down to your neck before nodding. 

“Oh, uhm.. right. Okay,”―  you say, walking towards your complex doors ― “C-come on in,” 

_

“You can uh.. take your shoes off at the door,” ― you say, after taking your own heels off and rushing to the kitchen ― “The green slippers should fit you,” 

He nods as he watches you disappear to the kitchen. He takes in your apartment with a soft smile. Photos of you with your friends and family litter the entrance way. It’s filled with a soft yellow light, cozy like he’d expect. From below him, he hears a soft purr 

A beige cat walks around his legs, observing him quietly before nuzzling against his thigh. His smile grows wide as he squats down and holds his hand for the kitty, waiting for it to approve of him before reaching and petting him. The cat is quick to the jump into his forearms. 

“Who’s this?” 

He ducks as he enters into the main area of your apartment. Your eyes widen as your usually stand-offish cat nuzzles comfortably in your childhood friends chest. 

“His name is Creampuff,” ― you say, mildly stunned ― “He’s two,” 

“What a good boy,” 

Your heart races as you see him. After all this time, his presence still gives you those nervous butterflies. Maybe it’s because he’s become so attractive. Broader and taller but more rugged to look at.You feel like the floor might swallow you up. 

“I’ll.. put on some tea,” 

You take off your coat but you’re still in your work clothes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s staring at you. You’re too afraid to look behind you and see, confirm but his gaze is so heavy you’re almost certain. He traces the outline of your body and back with his eyes. 

He can’t help but think you’ve filled out some. Even from behind - you look awfully pretty. You look disheveled and sleepy like you did back in highschool, after cramming for exams. A little older now with that same cute expression on your face. It’s hard to hold back or tear himself from you - so he doesn’t try. He just watches as you pour the tea into mugs and let it steep. Minutes pass and it’s quiet but not as uncomfortable as you’d expect. 

You return to your kitchen table with two mugs, setting his down on a coaster. 

“Careful.. it’s hot,” 

He nods, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it before taking a sip. He hums. 

“Ah.. it’s good. Thank you,” 

A silence settle between you briefly. Your heart is in your throat, hands trembling a little on the table. When he notices, he reaches for them. This is another of his habits, you think. Comforting people must be second nature to him, but it only makes you more nervous.

“So.. how’ve you been?” 

It’s the only thing you can think to ask. He studies your expression for a while. It used to the opposite of this. He used to be the nervous one, stuttery and unsure. You were always confident and steady - he’s sure you still are. This side of you is endearing though. He chuckles. 

“I’ve been good. Work is hectic but that’s always,” ― and you’re going to ask him another question. Dodge what he’s really here for, but he cuts you off ― “I’ve missed you though, so I came to visit,” 

You can feel it. This tension that presses against your back and makes you sit straight. He has that determined look in his eyes, easily recognizable when you watch him. In interviews and during fights and everything in between - like he knows what he’s going up against. To have it directed at you is so nerve-wracking, you find yourself doling under the pressure of his gaze. 

You fidget, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was always too much for to you handle. 

“O-oh?,” 

He nods, taking your hand in his. He holds it to his lips, kisses your knuckles like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You wonder where he learned to act like this. He’s different but the same. It’s too much for you so you shut your eyes. 

He stands until he’s on your side of the table. Rests on the corners edge with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you with fondness, an unmistakable affection. After all these years, it’s only grown. Double and tripled in size. No matter how much he would try and punch it down, it never deflates. 

He thinks loving you is an act of heroism. The only way he could ever really save himself. 8 years and it feels like you’re old friends. Nothing unnatural or wholly uncomfortable. It’s strange. 

“I thought about what you said. About telling you later. This time though,” ― he drops to the floor, crouched between your legs so slightly. He does it to look straight at you ― “This time though, I have to tell you properly so you can’t make me wait again,” 

“I wasn’t making you wait,” you insist. He takes your hand in his and you unravel, body slumped. He kisses the palms of your hands, the inside of your wrist and it feels like gravity has no mercy on you. 

“It felt like hell,” ― he tells you ― “I can’t sit still anymore so I’m telling you now. Even if you want to run away, I can’t let you,” 

You frown, heart rapid. 

“That’s not very heroic,” 

He smiles. 

“Good. I don’t wanna be your hero. I just want to love you selfishly as Izuku and not Deku,” ― he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles ― “So tell me you love me back and grant my wish. I waited all this time,” 

You’re stunned into silence at his request. Eyes feeling especially water as he leans into you. It doesn’t make sense but it feels right. Your heart is beating - like you can feel all the blood pumping in you and your head feels light. 

“You say it so easily,” 

He laughs. It’s bright just like how you remember. 

“How could you know after all this time? How could you be sure?” 

He shrugs. You hit his shoulder at the nonchalance but he only chuckles. He  leans in closer to you, inches away from your face. 

“I waited for you all this time. Shouldn’t you give me a chance to show you?” 

You sniffle as his hands cup your cheeks. His smile is so inviting, how could you refuse him?

“I’d like to kiss you,”  ― he pauses, shaking his head  ― “I want to show you. Let me,” 

You nod as he leans into you. His lips are pillow and soft - touch addicting. You give into him so easily, tongue tied. He keeps you close, hand at the base of your neck. It feels so good, so perfect. You believe him when he kisses you like this With secrets under his tongue, between his teeth. 

“Tell me your answer,”  ― he demands, soft but stern  ― “You didn’t before. I need to hear it,” 

You give him an exasperated laugh. 

“I love you.. obviously” 

Right. Obviously indeed. 

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[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Ten Commandments (Exodus 20)

Mount Sinai became the meeting-place of God and the people of Israel. The Lord met Moses on the mountain and told him that He would reveal Himself in a thick cloud, and speak to him in a voice that the Israelites would hear. Solemn preparations were made for the great event. Bounds were set, inside of which no one should pass on penalty of death. On the third day, the promised revelation came. There were thunders and lightnings, and a cloud enveloping the mountain. Then out of the midst of the magnificent scene, God spoke to the assembly of Israel, the Ten Commandments as the basis of His covenant with them.

The commandments are of Divine origin. The Lord based the obligation of the people to obey these commandments, on what he had done for them. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.”

Everywhere we find the footprints of God. Life is full of His goodness and mercy. When we think of what He has done for us we cannot but recognize His right to command us. All the hopes of the Israelites had come from God’s deliverance. Once they were slaves and He had set them free. Had it not been for His love for them, and His power put forth in their behalf they would still have been slaves in Egypt! He had redeemed them and now they were a free people, on their way to a land in which they would grow into a great nation.

“You shall have no other gods before Me.” The commandments are given in the second person singular, “ You shall.” God’s law deals with individuals and comes to each one personally and separately.

The first commandment requires that God shall have the first place in our life. The opening words in the Bible are suggestive: “In the beginning God.” We should put Him first and keep Him first in all our life.

Every person has some ‘god’. Our god is that which rules us, that which we love, obey, live for, and reverence. We talk with pity of the idolatry of heathen nations. But there are idolaters nearer to us than India or China. In whatever heart the true God is not worshiped, some false god is. Is the God of the Scriptures, indeed our God? Do we love Him above all persons and all things? Is He really first in all our thoughts, affections, plans and hopes?

It is not enough that we give Him the first place in our creed, saying: “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth: and in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord.” If lip confession is all we have to give Him, He cares nothing for it. What is God to our hearts, to our consciences, to our wills? Do we trust Him? What is He to us? How much would we lose out of our life if we were to cease to trust Him? Then it is not trust only that God asks He claims also our worship and obedience. “If you love Me,” said Jesus, “you will keep My commandments.” This first commandment ought to start a great many searching questions in our hearts as we study it.

“You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.” Exodus 20:4-6

This commandment does not forbid the arts of painting and sculpture, for even in the tabernacle, carved figures were placed. What is forbidden is the worship of God under any form or image. When God says that He is jealous, and visits the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, He does not mean that He punishes the children for the evil that their fathers have done. Each one must bear his own burden of guilt. But sin casts long shadows. It does not stop with him who commits it. Parents who are tempted to do wrong, should think that besides bringing punishment upon themselves, they are also sowing seeds of hurt and curse for the children they love.

“You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold anyone guiltless, who takes His name in vain.” There are many ways of taking God’s name in vain. One is to use it without reverence and love.

One tells of a miner, with grimy hand, plucking a pure, sweet flower. It seemed unfit, almost a desecration, for the lovely flower to be held in the soiled hand. How infinitely more of a desecration is it when in trivial speech we speak the name of God! The ancient Hebrews would, never utter the sacred name of Jehovah; they said it was too holy to be taken upon human lips. In some parts of the East, the Mohammedans will not tread upon the smallest piece of paper which they see lying on the ground. They say it may have on it the name of God. If we only thought more of the holiness and majesty of God we would surely honor His name more thoughtfully. Even Christians are ofttimes careless in the use of God’s name in their speech.

One common application of this commandment, is to profanity in speech. Even boys who are but learning to lisp their early words, are heard using the Divine name in awful oaths and cursing. Men who claim to be cultured and refined, speak the name of God profanely, using it to give emphasis to their speech.

All the universe honors God’s name. The stars as they shine, flash His praise. The storm, the sunshine, the towering mountains, the sweet valley, the thunder peal, the whisper of evening, the sweet flowers all honor God. Man alone profanes, dis-hallows and blasphemes the blessed name. Profanity is a sin which brings no pleasure, no gain; it does not adorn one’s speech but disfigures it. There seems to be no reason for it but contempt of God in human hearts.

“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.” Exodus 20:8-11

Many people seem to forget God’s day. The day is like all other days to them. They do their work just as on week days. Or if they do not work, they take the time for worldly pleasure. It is time we should be reminded again, of what God has said about the Sabbath.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.” There are many reasons why we should honor our parents. We owe a great deal to them. They watched over us through years of helpless infancy. They toiled, suffered and sacrificed for us. They bore patiently with all our faults. They took the storms of life themselves, that they might shelter us. Perhaps they appear a little faded and old-fashioned to our keen, critical eyes. But if so, we should not forget how it all came about. It was in caring for us that they lost their freshness and vigor.

The Brittany peasants give this beautiful legend of the way the robin got its red breast: When Jesus was being led out to crucifixion, bearing His cross and wearing His crown of thorns a bird, pitying Him, flew down and plucked a thorn from His brow. The blood from the wound gushed out and splashed the bird’s breast. Ever since that day the robin has borne this mark of its pity for the suffering Christ. This is only a legend but it teaches a beautiful lesson. We should ever be eager to pluck out the thorns which are piercing the brows of our mother and father. Some children, however, by their careless life or by their neglect, weave circlets of thorns for the brows of those whom they ought to love and bless!

Jesus gave us the highest example of honor to parents, in the way He showed His love to His mother. It was a sweet friendship that existed between this mother and her Holy Son. He opened His soul to her and she gave not a mother’s love only but also a mother’s counsel, and strong, inspiring help. Then His love overshadowed her to the last. One of the seven sayings spoken while He hung on the cross told of His faithful affection for her. The world would be desolate for her when her Son was gone. So He made provision for her in the shelter of a love in which He knew she would be safe. As He saw her led away by the beloved disciple to his own home part of the pain of dying was gone from His own heart. His mother would have gentle care.

“You shall not murder. Exodus 20:13. So long as we interpret this commandment only with bare literalness, it does not give us much trouble. Not many of us have ever killed anybody. But when we read into it the meaning that our Lord gave it in His Sermon on the Mount we find that it is not so easy to keep it. God looks into the heart, and He may find the spirit of murder there when no hand is raised to strike. All bitterness, malice, hatred, envy, jealousy, uncharitableness, and all angry thoughts, dispositions and feelings are the beginnings of murder .

There are many ways in which we may indirectly injure the lives of others. The dealer adulterates the food he sells, and the preparations act as slow poisons, secretly destroying the lives of those who use the food. A mother allows her children to violate the laws of health, to eat unwholesome food, to be irregular in their rest and exercise. By-and-by, they sicken and perhaps die. She wonders then at the strange ways of Providence and asks why it is that God so afflicts her. The plumber does careless work, and diphtheria finds its way into a home. The builder is negligent, and a wooden beam lies too close to the flue, and one night catches fire, leaving death in the ruins of the home. We are our brothers’ keepers, and any failure in our guardianship leaves guilt on our souls.

When the old Hebrews built a house, they were required by law to put a fence round the flat roof, lest someone might fall off and be injured or killed. So we should not only guard against harming others directly but should also construct our whole life and influence so that no one may indirectly receive injury from us.

“You shall not commit adultery.” Exodus 20:14. The seventh commandment also searches the heart, taking cognizance of the thoughts, feelings, desires, affections and imaginations. We must learn to guard our thoughts if we would please God. “Blessed are the pure in heart.” One part of true religion, as James defines it, is to keep one’s self “unspotted from the world.” Lilies float in the black water of a bog and yet remain pure and white, without spot or stain. So by the grace of Christ, every young person should try to live a pure and heavenly life in the world but unspotted by the world’s evil.

“You shall not steal.” Exodus 20:15. There are many ways of stealing without deliberately putting one’s hand into a neighbor’s pocket and abstracting his gold or silver. The postmaster had failed to cancel the stamp on a letter, and the young girl who received it peeled off the stamp and used it again to send a reply to her friend. She thought she had done a smart thing she did not see the eighth commandment broken under her feet. A boy went to the store for a pound of coffee. The shopkeeper was hurried, and in his haste gave him five cents too much change. The boy ran home chuckling over the mistake in great glee, because the grocer had cheated himself. He did not think that while the man had made an honest mistake he himself was a thief. A man borrows money from a friend. He promises to return it next Tuesday. But he never returns it at all. He often thinks of it but as his generous friend does not ask him for it he never attempts to pay his debt. He supposes he is a debtor he never thinks for a moment that he is a thief.

“You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” Exodus 20:16. There is probably not a large amount of false witnessing in courts of justice. Even wicked men are afraid to lie under oath. But there is a vast amount of lying about other people, which is done in the ordinary conversation of the street, the office, the parlor. Anything is false witnessing, which misrepresents another or puts him in a wrong light. Taking up any evil report which we hear and repeating it again, is really bearing false witness. Our neighbor’s good name is a jewel which we should sacredly guard. The best rule is never to say anything unkind of another, even if it be true. It might stop much of the fashionable talk of society but that is of little matter; the world would not be greatly the loser.

“You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.” Exodus 20:17. The tenth commandment forbids the sin of covetousness, and teaches the duty of contentment. A Roman Catholic priest said that among all the thousands of ‘confessions’ which had been made to him, no one had confessed the sin of covetousness. Yet probably no sin is so common, no one of the commandments is so often broken.

One of the best proofs of the Christian spirit, is the ability to rejoice in the success and prosperity of others. Does it make us glad to see our neighbor possessing good things or does it make us envious ? Do we rejoice in his prosperity, or do we begrudge his good things to him and wish they were ours instead? Does other people’s happiness or success make us happy or discontented? When we look down to the root of things, we discover that many crimes start just in the simple desire to have something that is not ours. “I saw, I coveted, I took!” told the whole story of Achan’s sin.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Meditations of St. Padre Pio – Part 2 A

Padre Pio was at the height of his priestly apostolate with multitudes of pilgrims visiting him, for his Mass, to confess to him, and to ask him for prayers and counsel. He was a master of souls; he directed everyone with penetrating words full of deep meaning. His series of "Meditations" was the first complete text of Padre Pio's thoughts. These texts consists of Padre Pio's meditations upon the fundamental dogmas of the Catholic faith. The Immaculate Conception and the Incarnation of Jesus. He then relives Jesus' agony in the garden of olives. Next he reflects on the human condition, and on our need to turn to God in the passing of our days. These are not conventional texts; they are reflections derived from the contemplation of the absolute Truth. “Mary Immaculate” is a more theological text. The others are more human and simple.

Padre Pio, in the first years of his residence in San Giovanni Rotondo (1918 – 1920), when he was freer from the care of souls, wrote a few meditations for his novices and his spiritual daughters of the Franciscan Third Order. They were the text of his lectures or instructions that he gave weekly as their Spiritual Director. After that, between the years 1925 – 1928, Padre Pio compiled other meditations. Fr. Agostino of San Marco in Lamis affirms it in his "Diary:" The Provincial, Fr. Bernardo of Alpicella, once suggested to Padre Pio to “compile a few meditations for the principal feasts of the year for our seminarians.” When Padre Pio was shown the possibility of publishing these meditations, he said: "I have written these things for myself." But, when it was explained to him that "they would do a lot of good to our souls" he smilingly said: "if it is as you say, bonum est diffu sivum sui (good, by its nature, is destined to be spread).

First Meditation - Christmas Season

J. M. J. – D. F. C. Note: The initials J. M. J. – D. F. C. Stands for Jesus, Mary, Joseph – Dominic, Francis, Catherine

At dead of night in the harshest of seasons, in the coldest of caves, a more suitable dwelling for beasts than human beings, the promised Messiah, Jesus, the Savior of men sees the light in the fullness of time. No fuss surrounds him, an ox and an ass warm the poor newborn Infant, a lowly woman and a poor man are there by his side to adore him. No sound can be heard except the whimpering cries of the Infant God. By these cries and whimpering he offers to the divine justice the first payment for our reconciliation.

For fully forty centuries he had been expected; with desire the ancient Fathers had appealed for his coming, the sacred writers had clearly prophesied the place and time of his birth, yet all is silence around him and no one seems to be aware of this great event. Only some time later is he visited by shepherds who have been watching their flocks in the fields. They are notified of the marvelous event by heavenly spirits and invited to go to the cave where he lies.

O Christians, what lessons and how many do we receive from the cave of Bethlehem! Oh, how our hearts ought to be inflamed with love for the One who has become all tenderness for us. Oh, how we ought to burn with the desire to lead the entire world to this lowly grotto in which the King of Kings is sheltered, in a shelter finer than any royal palace since it is the throne and abode of God! Let us ask this Divine Child to clothe us with humility, for only by this virtue can we appreciate such a mystery of Divine tenderness. The palaces of proud Israel are glittering, yet it is not in these dwellings that the Light comes into the world. The magnates of the Jewish nation are haughty in their human greatness, they wallow in wealth and comfort. The priest of the Temple are filled with vain knowledge and pride. Contrary to the true meaning of the divine revelations, they have diminished the image of the Savior whom they expect to come into the world with human pomp and power. But God who is always ready to confound the wisdom of this world has upset their plans and, contrary to the expectations of those who are lacking in divine wisdom, he comes down among us in the greatest abjection. He even refuses to be born in Joseph's humble home, he refuses a modest lodging among relatives and acquaintances in the city of Judah and like an outcast seeks refuge and help from poor animals, choosing their abode as his birthplace and their breath to warm his tender little body. He allows poor rough shepherds to pay him the first honors, those whom he himself has informed of the great mystery by means of his angels.

O wisdom and power of God, we are compelled to cry out ecstatically with the Apostle, how incomprehensible are your judgments and how unsearchable your ways. Poverty, humility, abjection and contempt surround the Word Made Flesh. But in the darkness which envelops the Incarnate Word we understand something, we hear a voice, we catch a glimpse of a sublime truth. You have done all this out of love and you invite us to nothing but love, you speak of nothing but love, you give us nothing but proofs of love.

The heavenly Infant suffers and wails in the manger in order to make suffering lovable, meritorious and sought after by us, He lacks everything so that we may learn from him to give up the goods and comforts of this world. He is pleased to have poor and humble adorers in order to induce us to love poverty and prefer the company of the humble and simple rather than that of the great ones of this world. This heavenly Child all meekness and tenderness wants to instill these sublime virtues into our hearts by his example, so that an era of peace and love may dawn on this disordered and utterly confused world. From the moment of his birth he points out to us our mission, which is to despise the things to which the world is attached and which it seeks.

Oh, let us bow down before the manger and with the great St. Jerome, the Saint inflamed with love for the Infant Jesus, let us offer him our whole heart without reserve, and promise him that we shall follow the teachings we receive from the cave of Bethlehem, telling us that everything here below is vanity of vanities and nothing but vanity.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Okay okay, I’m super excited and nervous bc i’ve never requested anything but: can I request some headcanons of Dainsleif, Scaramouche and Tartaglia falling in love with a god? I’m the anon from that ask 😅

archons of my heart

this might have been the most different set of short little stories i’ve ever written - each character responds so differently to this scenario! (note: based on what we know about these characters, I stuck true to their values* - it might not be what you were intending, and I keep things true to their character) <3 

Warning -> angst (Dain), fluff (Childe), genera/fluff?(Scara - mention of long hair)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Dainsleif, Scaramouche, Childe

Dain

Devastated, conflicted - these words have never resonated more in his mind than the day he found out about who you were, what you were 

What does he do … he dislikes, no hates the archons and yet … you were one of them - you’d always been one of them and the whole time you hid this fact from him knowing full well the feelings he had for them 

He couldn’t really hear as you desperately tried to explain to him why, he only heard the shattering of his heart as your face turned into something he no longer recognized 

He stood there, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, eyes tracking your movement as you paced back and forth in front of him, your feet wearing down the grass with each passover. 

“I know you’ll never forgive them for what happened …” You begin, your voice somehow distorted now that he saw you for what you really were. He didn’t have words to respond, he felt out of his body. An observer rather than a participant, how he wished that were the case. 

You stepped closer to him, hands reaching for his arm - the arm that had been tainted for so long - and without noticing he recoiled from your outreach. It was the first time he had ever deliberately refused your touch and, although he understood the pain it caused you, it was clear from the reaction of your face, he couldn’t bear your hands on him. Not now, not when the whole world was crumbling down around him. 

You stood there, just the way you always did, incredible, perfect, beautiful and reverent in a way no-one ever looked before - he loved you, he thought he loved you 

You were so different than those gods that destroyed everything he ever knew, everything he ever cared for, fought for 

If only you hadn’t tried to save him then maybe he could have gone on living in the delusion of this relationship .. though, it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway - one day he’d notice how you never aged ... it was inevitable 

To love you, to love you so deeply and intensely; to love you after keeping his heart sealed up for so long, to love you with the passion that burns like the stars in the sky only to know this truth - he felt that light burn out in a painful flash 

An eye for an eye - he will maintain his beliefs  

“Dainsl…” 

“Do not …” His voice caught in his throat, it was the first time you’d heard him be taken over by his emotions, “ … do not speak my name.” 

“Please, I love you.” Your hands pressed against your chest, body bent forward as if to beg him, plead with him to reconsider. 

“I owe you nothing but the repayment of the life that you saved. I shall spare yours to conclude my debt.” For one final time he gazed upon your face, burning into memory the cheeks that he once touched, the eyes that held his breath, the lips that lingered against his skin and were capable of transforming into the most incredible smile. He looked, he lingered, he tried so hard to will the power in him that would whisk him as far from you as he could go but each time he tried he stalled, like a stubborn fool he hesitated. 

Your wet cheeks moved as you studied at him with a hopeful, supplicating smile, your head shook and your lips parted as if to call out to him and the power he lacked to leave you filled him suddenly. Like a flash of lightning in a storm he disappeared from your eyes. 

Citizens will often recall the days when it rained with an intensity of a woeful god, and can’t help but notice the mysterious man who would leave the room every time your name was mentioned. 

Scara

Cool -- cool, cool, cool - you’re a divine being - bet

It’s very likely that Scara will be excited about this revelation - he already thinks so highly of himself that knowing that he has captured the affection of a god only swells his pride more than it already did

He’s so smug when you tell him, when you spill to him what you are - he doesn't believe it either and will make you demonstrate that power to him and if you look back at him after your display, you’ll see him with a devious grin 

Be careful, he may manipulate you to act as an extension of his wishes -- and if he has any vengeance to enact on the people who harmed him, you’ll have to be very strong in your convictions (though, you can do whatever you’d like honestly, you a god) 

“Again.” Scara commands, his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up so he can look at you from his perch on the rock and a smile stretched so far across his face you wonder how his lips don’t steam in pain. 

“I’ve already shown you multiple times. Do you still not believe me?” You huff, resting your hands on your hips, adamant that you won’t comply with his request. 

“Okay okay, I’m convinced.” He shrugs, hoping off of his stoop and walking toward you. “So how long have you been a god?” 

“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of the years … though I’d say around 500.” 

“Interesting. Can you make me a god?” 

“No, I don’t have that authority.” 

“Disappointing, but oh well.” He stopped just before you, he was shorter than you so you looked down at him, thankful that he removed his hat otherwise you’d have a hard time seeing his face. He reached for a strand of your long hair, his fingers twirling around it before sliding down the silky strands and repeating the process. “So, why did you decide to tell me this secret of yours?” 

“I …” Why did you tell him? You knew what kind of person he was, you knew the actions that would follow - his greed and selfishness would motivate him to use this information for his own advantage. “Against my better judgement, I told you because I love you.” You cover your face with your hand, embarrassed by the confession. It’s the first time you’ve ever fallen in love with a human before, Scara was your first and that notion electrified your skin. 

“You love me?” You didn’t need to see him to catch the cocky attitude spilling from him. 

“I do …” You replied with a sigh. 

“Who would have thought that?” “Listen, if you’re going to make fun of me then I’ll just …” Your voice was cut off by Scara pulling you toward him and pressing his lips against your own. Your knees nearly gave way at the contact and you reached to his arms to stabilize yourself. His lips are thin and the power he uses, the pressure of the kiss tells you what kind of man he is. 

“This is excellent news, don’t think I’ll let you get away from me now.”  He hummed, his lips dancing over your own as he spoke, his breath warming your skin. Was this really the best human that could have stolen your heart? Well, you were sure it wouldn’t be borning. 

Childe

He’s likely indifferent to your real status - to find out that you’re an archon or a god - he’s almost unsurprised by the news  

You wonder if he didn’t already know that you weren’t human, you wouldn’t put it past him to have done some digging on you and after being alive for so long it was bound to be suspicious that you knew things that many people didn’t anymore -- it was also suspicious that Zhongli seemed to recognize you pretty quickly, his eyes shining as if he saw an old friend  

“You could have just told me.” Childe emphasized, crossing his arms and leaning against the large pole behind him. 

“I know … but, well I wasn’t really planning on sticking around.” 

“Oh, so you’re one of those.” 

“Ah, no! That’s not what I meant.” For being of reverence, you always found yourself stumbling over your words when talking to Childe. “Ugh, I meant that I didn’t think that … well that I’d fall in love with a human.” You picked at your clothes and shook your head. 

“If there was ever a human for you to fall head over heels for, I am the best candidate for that.” You looked at him, laughing at the way he pointed his thumbs at his chest and grinned from his own joke. 

“I don’t know … maybe I made a mistake?” You express, rubbing your chin with your hands.

“Hey now!” 

“I’m joking of course … so, you really aren’t … upset?” 

“Why would I be upset?” He asked, eyes furrowing and head tilting to the side. 

“I don’t know … my timeline is different from yours for one.”

“So. That doesn’t matter to me.” 

“There will be a day when you’ll be old and I won’t have aged a day.” 

“Don’t care.” You huff and take a few steps away from him. He didn’t seem to grasp what it meant to be in love with a god. This was the reason you rarely took human companions, the guilt in your heart at watching them age and the pain of losing them was all a strain on your heart. 

“Childe …” You begin again but as you turn to face him you notice he’s moved from his place and is now standing in front of you. 

“I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you’ve done.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, his breath of humanity filling your very soul. “I love you, and I don’t take that feeling lightly.” 

“I don’t want you to regret choosing a partner who cannot live a normal human life.” 

“If I wanted a normal life, I wouldn’t be where I am to begin with. What I want is you, and I’m pretty good at getting what I want.” He smirked and kissed each knuckle on your hand. How was it that a man could bring down a god so easily? 

“Now, the real question …” Childe’s tone shifted, his body extended to his full height which made you tilt your head to look at him. “Do you still have your divine powers or whatever?” 

“Like …?” 

“Like, can you summon lightning or manipulate the earth with a snap of your fingers?” 

“Haha, oh, I still have my abilities, yes. There were times I had to fight, so I’ve adapted them for those purposes.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along after him. “Let’s fight, don't hold back.” 

“Childe! That’s dangerous.”

“Even better.” He gave you a quick wink before dragging you to a place where the two of you could engage in the battle of his dreams.

[greengrungeemo]

“We can start our life over as many times as we want!! We might make a lot of mistakes and hurt ourselves, but that lets us become the people we want to be...! You fall once or twice in your life, but that’s life.” - Keiichi Maebara.

I... admittedly completed this chapter sometime last month, but I needed a lot of time to process it. This will be a quick analysis on Higurashi When They Cry - Chapter 6. As strange as it is to say, this one may be my favorite one yet. I feel as though there was an incredible level of revelation in this. This analysis will contain spoilers!!

---

That being said, I strongly feel that Rena Ryuugu and Keiichi Maebara are heroes. Some may find that ridiculous, why would you? Some may feel there’s nothing special in them, or that they’re simply hormonal students. However, despite the overdramatized level of fiction in this chapter’s story, there is an underlying and intensely “real” element. Such as, losing yourself, losing your mental acuity, becoming delusional or losing touch with reality, to sin, to doubt, to lose trust in others who love you... to forgive. It’s a powerful message.

We build connections expecting a level of perfection in others. I.E: To be my friend, you must meet my expectations, if you do A, B, or C, I will leave and find someone else. Fact of the matter is, we all sin and hurt ourselves and others, so why is there such standardized cruelty? When should we forgive, and when should we leave? When should we put ourselves in other people’s shoes, and when should we look after ourselves first and foremost?

Even Rika Furude who is discovered to be almost divine in some way, a time keeper of sorts, a traveler of cosmos... she gave up on this world’s Rena. She notices Keiichi remembering his past life though, which is a huge development! (Side note: Rika is a proven badass as seen in that first screenshot!) Keiichi was also the one who boasted the true realization. The kind that forms goodness in oneself and others. He never gave up on the one that he loved. Let’s look at the facts, Rena, in her delusional state, traumatized Keiichi. She harshly brought up his past, and threatened to tell the rest of their friends of what he did. This was something Keiichi wanted to break free from, and it was a past he already deeply regretted. That trauma even gaslit him to feel as though he *needs* to confess and tell all of his friends. So he did. Mion, Satoko, and Rika all reacted accordingly. In short, “you can tell us whatever you need to, and we’ll listen - but you don’t need to reveal everything bad about you.” It’s true. If you’ve already grown from your past, you don’t need to bring it up with every new person you meet as a way to be transparent with your friendship. I’ve done precisely as Keiichi did, and my current friends all reacted the same way. They already see the grown version of me, so knowing about a past version of myself and all of the sins that I’ve done at that time - is unnecessary to know. I’m still glad I told them since it’s a way for me to continue building myself and to show them that I’m not infallible.

That’s what this chapter had shown. Someone like Rena Ryuugu isn’t infallible either, she hid a lot of her inner struggles. She began experiencing delusions, and that is a VERY scary thing. You’re not mentally aligned with reality, and you lose a sense of self. Have you noticed that Rena’s inner dialogue begins pink in color, but changes its tone to a darker and darker red/orange? That represents her mental descendance. She chose to encounter this alone, since she didn’t think that she could rely on her friends. Thankfully, Keiichi helped her realize that he was her best friend on the planet, and her equal through and through. To do this for someone who’s losing themselves mentally, this means the world.

The best scene is one I call, the battle of passion. A deadly battle to the death, a blunt weapon versus a bladed one. Two best friends, one focused and determined to rescue the other, and the other fully lost to the perils of their own mind and lack of sanity. Who wins?

In it, they are fully focused on the battle at hand, and eventually, they become focused on each other. Rena realizes how much fun she’s having with Keiichi at that moment in time, and that realization helps her break free from her delusions. Why worry about what my mind is telling me, or what my obsessions/compulsions are pushing on me, when I can focus on the present moment with the one I love? That’s the mental seed that began to sprout anew for Rena, with Keiichi’s careful reinforcement as evidenced by their dialogue, “You know, I don’t think I even care about aliens or parasites anymore. If the world is going to perish, go ahead and perish. Who cares about the conspiracy of the Three Families, anyway?” Rena says. Keiichi reinforces with, “Hey, that’s the scenario you came up with, don’t forget. Come on, scratch your throat once in a while, at least!! Hey, I know, it doesn’t itch anymore, does it? It definitely doesn’t!!” This may seem like a form of manipulation at a glance, but in truth, it’s a helpful way of assisting someone out of their delusion. Keiichi knows this, and it works.

Rena realizes that if she succeeds this battle to the death, it’s not fun if she wins. They even made winning conditions. If Keiichi wins, his perverted fantasy of having a Rena servant for the rest of his days comes true. If Rena wins, she kills Keiichi. She admits this to him. He’s a brilliant friend with how he talks her down next, she says, “.....Boo, boo. It’s not fun if I win.” He replies, “Then what do you want to change it? What do you want?”

That’s all you need when you’re mentally lost. If the outcome is becoming something you don’t end up wanting, then what do you want in order to change it in a positive light? How will you change it? What steps do you need to take to do so?

Rena brilliantly admits her wish, and it made me cry my eyes out. “You don’t have to be my maid. But the rest is the same. I want you to say ‘good morning’ to me every morning and ‘good night’ every night. I want you to treat me well and let me play around all the time.” It doesn’t take rocket science to ascertain what she means, as it appears to be an admission of her true love to him. It’s clear she romanticizes frequently, and I wholeheartedly believe Rena deserves a true love. She isn’t asking for much, either. To be treated well, and to feel loved.

She finally overcomes her delusion and breaks free from it. She relinquishes her weapon and admits to Keiichi in the pale moonlight that she was wrong. As Keiichi mentioned himself, this takes an enormous amount of strength to do. It’s difficult to admit you were wrong, especially when the sin committed is one to feel especially ashamed of.

Despite her massive sins, Keiichi saw the gleaming inner beauty that Rena Ryuugu possesses. Beyond her mental destruction, there’s so much beautiful characteristics that outshine all of that bad stuff. He realizes how valuable and special she is, so it would be stupid to not forgive and leave her behind. He put himself in her shoes, he forgave her, and he helped her realize that she’s beyond her delusions, kept her grounded, and got her back on her feet. That’s the ultimate friend. We all need a Keiichi in our lives, just like how we need a Rena in our lives. She’s perceptive, and knows what you’re thinking and feeling before you even admit it to her. He’s understanding and instantly empathizes with those he loves and springs into action to help.

They both won. They are good people, and they are beyond their sins.

Just like you reading this. 

You are beyond any mistake you’ve made, and if you regret it and reacted accordingly to it - built yourself up and grew from it. Learned from it and apologized genuinely for it... then there’s nothing to worry about. It took me over a year to realize everything in my life. What I had, what I’ve lost, what I’ve done wrong, who I hurt, how much I love them, and how I grew to prevent anything like that from happening again. I soared from my sins, and I pray and very much hope you do or have done as well. I broke free from my delusions as Rena had, and I strive to be someone as supportive as Keiichi was for her in that moment.

Please forgive yourself. Please forgive others. Be sincerely gentle and caring, and that’s all there is to it.

[mmvalentine]

What Cardan Knows | Jurdan

Canon compliant I suppose, just more post-QoN nonsense. Smut aplenty.

Cardan knows a secret about Jude.

Knows she likes to be kissed right between the shoulder blades.

Knows that if you move your lips on the vertebra that sticks out at the base of her neck, she melts like chocolate in the summer sun.

Jude has spent today, like many days, sitting on her throne like she was born there. There is something so natural in the way that she rules the fae that never came quite so easy to Cardan. He feels more comfortable next to her now than he ever thought he would. Still. He does not think he relishes the power like Jude does.

And of course Jude looks spectacular while she does it. Cardan reclines in his own throne, throwing one leg over an armrest and letting his head fall back against the back. He watches Jude, straight backed and imperious, as she hands down stern judgement for a faerie who stole a human child. She had outlawed changelings since she has been Queen, and although the folk do not like it, they abide by her word.

Cardan finds it sexy that the court is still a little afraid of Jude. Cardan finds it sexy that this sharp and unyielding ruler is his alone to unravel. Later.

Jude does not like anyone to know that she can be tender. Even now, years after she’s gained the loyalty of her court, she avoids being vulnerable. Puts on her armour every morning to meet her subjects, her advisors, and even her sisters. Oak might be an exception. And Cardan, when he knows where to fit his myriad keys.

These are not things Jude has ever told him out loud. Not even to her husband would she confess the chinks in her armour aloud. But Cardan knows anyway. Knows the secret places she keeps her softness, and delights in uncovering them when they are alone in the safety of the dark of their bedroom. Only when she is sure no one is looking does she bare her underbelly to him and let him press toothy kisses there. Cardan loves when Jude is ruthless. Cardan loves when Jude is soft.

Now Jude is sending the faerie away and the fae dislike her changing the rules. But she hands out cruelty like treats in the throne room and so they still adore her. A good public punishing is as good as trading babies. There is a hard glint in Jude’s eye as she watches him go, and then she flicks her wrist and the revelry begins once again. It’s all so simple. She looks out at the crowd with a cold boredom on her face, but Cardan knows she’s riding a high from watching her own orders executed. He also knows it turns her on like nothing else.

And so Cardan pushes himself up off his bramble throne, leans over to his wife with his back to the court, and murmurs, “take your leave my Queen, for I have business with you elsewhere.”

Jude’s lip curls when she answers, and her voice trickles like ice water over his skin. “I do not attend your bidding my Lord, I would stay to see the end of the revel.”

“Nevertheless,” Cardan says, and his fingers slide down her wrist to read her telltale pulse. “I have business with you elsewhere.”

And although Jude does delight in denying her husband, she rarely denies herself. So she rises smoothly while Cardan watches with one eyebrow raised, and allows him to take her hand and lead her into the alcove behind the throne room.

Cardan shuts the door and the noise outside suddenly chokes off. He turns and Jude is staring at him with her chin up in her regal golden gown, and she is resplendent.

“Well?” She demands. “What is it you wish to discuss so urgently?”

“First,” Cardan purrs, “I mean this to be an informal meeting, since you and I are wed and need not stand on ceremony. Let me remove your formal attire.” He walks behind her and Jude’s head turns, but she doesn’t otherwise move. Cardan’s movements are careful as he removes the heavy crown from Jude’s head; he has had his fingers bitten for this before.

But Jude does not react, so he goes for the heavy collar of gold plates she wears, unhooking the clasp and lifting it carefully from her shoulders. Next is the fastening in the back of her bodice, and even as she is undressed Jude’s spine remains as straight as the sword at her hip.

There have been times where she fucks him just like that. With steel in her eyes and Cardan’s throat between her fingers, when she holds him down with her thighs and draws his rapture from his lips like she can summon his very soul.

But today Cardan wants to pull at Jude’s threads and unspool her at his feet. So he stands behind her, and kisses her like feathers in that secret spot of hers. In between her scapulae. Traveling up toward the bones of her neck. And infinitesimally, Jude’s shoulders loosen beneath his touch.

Cardan smiles against her skin as his fingers skim the outside edge of her bare arms, and she leans her head back toward him so his lips can better reach her throat. When her eyes slide closed, Cardan pulls the tie of her skirt and it pools around her feet. He lifts her out of it and by the time her weight is in his arms, Jude is pliant against his chest.

Cardan lays Jude down on the low couch, and in the moment between kisses where his tongue lifts off her skin and his teeth touch down elsewhere, he whispers honeyed pet-names to her. "Ruthless," he calls her sweetly. He moves down her belly. "Unscrupulous. Uncompromising. Without mercy. Immovable."

At the last, he curls his tongue in the apex of her thighs, and Jude lifts her hips to his mouth with a soft cry. She is not immovable, and he knows it. His tail wraps around her ankle as her leg tries to jerk upward, and holds it in place. Cardan moves lazily, breathes steadily against the Queen and relishes in her slow undoing.

"Cardan," she whispers, and he hums with his lips on her pussy.

In fact, the real secret that Cardan knows is that Jude is not any of the things he calls her, and despite the way fae crave wickedness like opium, it is the very heart of Jude that he loves the most.

"Will you punish me, too?" Cardan asks her. His face moves up her body but one of his fingers replace his tongue inside her and Jude is not able to answer him. "If I confess my sins to you will you hand down my own judgement?"

"Did you steal any children away?" Jude manages to ask him, but her breathing is coming in short pants and her voice is strained.

"No," Cardan laments. "Although I think I would enjoy having a pet."

Jude's eyes flash, but Cardan makes one finger two and her words don't make it out.

"My sins," Cardan tells her, and then leans close to admit it in her ear while his hand speeds up between her legs. "are so numerous as to be unforgivable." He even sounds a little sad, and Jude's eyes open.

"There is always mercy," she breathes.

"Then forgive me, my saint," Cardan says, and then twists his fingers and presses down on her clit at the same time, so Jude climaxes suddenly and unexpectedly. Her lovely brown eyes widen in surprise and her lips part in bliss, and before she has come all the way down Cardan removes his fingers and slides his cock into her even as she shudders and spasms.

Cardan barely moves before Jude is coming again, and the waves of it around him are exquisitely divine. He moans his pleasure as he sinks into her again and again, and revels in the Queen laid bare. His hips kiss hers and it is in this space he finds his absolution daily. For as hard and uncaring as Jude is not, so is Cardan secretly not so unaffected or shameless as he makes out to be.

And as Jude wraps her legs around his waist, and her hands around the back of his neck pull his forehead down to hers, he wonders if this is what Jude knows, too.

Cardan moves his lips against Jude's neck and the increasingly irregular rhythm of his hips matches the erratic beating of his heart, and when Jude's teeth bite into his throat as if to suckle at his lifeblood, he comes hard buried deep inside her.

Minutes later, the King and Queen of Elfhame are still tangled together on the couch. Jude's head is on Cardan's chest and he has the sharp claw tip of a fingernail circling against her shoulder. A faint bruise is blooming on his throat, and the tip of his tail is brushing against her elbow.

"Shall we return you to the revel, my love?" Cardan asks her. Jude looks at him, then stands fluidly and holds her chin up and her arms out.

"Dress me, husband," she commands, and Cardan picks up her clothes off the floor and puts everything back on. Piece by piece, layer by layer, fingers meticulous. Pinning her hair and fastening the scabbard by her waist. Jude is still like a mannequin, and when he is done she lowers her arms and sweeps out of the room without a backward glance.

Cardan straightens his own clothes, plonks his crown back on his head and then saunters back out to the thrown room. Jude is already being offered a selection of the fattest, sweetest grapes and she spears them with a fine dagger before she puts them to her kiss-swollen lips. And when she drags the knife point back out of her mouth, he doesn't know whether he'd rather be the blade or the fruit.

Either way, he is more than content to spend the rest of the night watching Jude rule the fae with an iron fist, as his kisses fade on her skin.

****

Sorry that was so curly! When I started writing Jurdan I just thought I would write these snarly, snappy creatures but it turns out I'm just a sucker for them shedding their skins when they're alone. Also, I planned on writing hardcore smut and all that came out was... intense feels? What is happening?

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish

*NOTE* I have two entirely separate masterlists/ taglists for my feysand and jurdan stuff!! Hope this makes it all easy to navigate!