#When Yo Enemy Delivers Your Food

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (3/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Series summary: An impulsive and reckless girl who stands for everything Arthur tries to overcome joins the gang. Even worse, she is related to Micah Bell. What starts off as a relationship of mistrust and hate slowly transforms into a beautiful, deeper connection, as both parties realise that there is more to the other person than what meets the eye at first.

Chapter 3 summary: After the argument you had with Arthur when robbing Chez Porter, you worsen the situation by taking Arthur's journal.

Link to my masterlist

first chapter, second chapter

2600 words, 15 minutes reading time

Neither Arthur nor you rode back to camp right away. You took a little detour to look for something you could shoot and present Pearson. Yesterday you had forgotten to deliver him fresh meat and you tasted its absence in the stew you could barely swallow. The time alone would give you the opportunity to wind down and with a job already successfully done, you didn’t have to worry about the money you’d put into the donations box today. You sighed and readjusted you position in the saddle. What you couldn’t understand is why Arthur was so opposed to your methods. For a second you gave in to the thought that you might be biased, since you almost always worked alone and if you didn’t, Micah was your partner in crime.

Arthur also opted for a scenic route before returning to camp. He’d stop in Valentine to get some provisions, maybe take in lunch at the saloon and then ride back. No matter which distraction he tried, he couldn’t blur out the conversation he had had with you. Why did you know so much about him? What was this hint of him leaving his family behind? You couldn’t possibly know about that. Was it that obvious? Arthur still heard you yell that neither he nor you got something to live for. He’d like to deny it, but honestly, he couldn’t. He had felt like that for a long time and yet he was aware that he was one of the main providers for the gang. Maybe with you around, bringing in money and food, he wasn’t needed anymore.

But no, there was this underlying feeling that you wouldn’t be good for the gang. The couple of days Micah was imprisoned in Strawberry were one of the quietest and most peaceful the gang had experienced in a long time. And now there were two Bells in the gang, and one talked more crap than the other. It was like you were striving to be a little Micah, the way you listened to Dutch and harassed everyone else.

The first time he saw you sitting in Micah’s camp, he thought you were a victim, maybe some girl Micah kidnapped, but it dawned on Arthur that you couldn’t be the one he should feel sorry for. But having nothing to live for and running towards bullets like you didn’t care for injury or death was appalling to watch. He had thought Micah reckless when they were shooting their way through Strawberry for his guns, but you had taken it to a new level that Arthur didn’t quite understand.

With a buck strapped to your horse you returned to camp some time in the afternoon. As you dismounted and started to unstrap the carcass from your horse’s back, you heard someone coming closer. “Need some help?”. It was the Indian. He wouldn’t stop offering help, no matter what you did. It irritated you. It was a constant reminder that there was always someone somewhere that considered you not strong enough. Just two days ago he had offered you his assistance when he saw you buckle under the weight of an overloaded sack of potatoes. You had refused and stumbled to the food waggon. “I’m good”, you replied briefly, watching him in the corner of his eye.

You knew he didn’t approve of you. He had voiced his disdain for your methods a couple of times when you tipsily told some of your stories at the campfire, and yet he was always kind. Why? You wished it would stop because it made you feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable for rejecting him every time he asked so very kindly, and this irritated you even more.

“Pearson! You better make something good out of this or you’re going into the pot next!”, you exclaimed as you threw the deer onto his working table, knocking over some bowls with vegetables. “Much appreciated, Miss y/l/n”, Pearson answered, already picking up the vegetables on the ground. Pearson was the first person in the gang who accepted that your last name wasn’t Bell, but the name you inherited from your mother. To be fair, he learned it the hard way when he called you “Bell” and you yelled at him. You hated people assuming that this was your last name. Deep down you appreciated Pearson calling you correctly, though you never told him specifically.

As you headed towards your tent, you passed Arthur’s. There it was. Your eyes caught it immediately – a little notebook with leather binding. You had seen Arthur writing in it almost every evening and you had to admit you were curious.  A quick glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody was nearby and watching and as smoothly as possible, you picked the journal up and strut a little outside camp. Horseshoe Overlook was a fine camping spot. You enjoyed sitting at the edge of the cliff to let your legs dangle, often drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, or smoking your last cigarette in the evening. But now you walked a little further than your normal spot, so the person on guard duty, Micah as you quickly assessed, wouldn’t notice you.

Dusk was approaching, the sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains, getting more orange and redder as it continued to disappear. But there was still enough light to see what was in Arthur’s notebook. When you flipped it open you landed on a double page containing a sketch of the camp-site. Your jaw dropped. You didn’t know that Arthur could draw. And so well…

You continued to browse through the journal, always skipping to the pages where something was drawn on. And there were plenty of those. Little birds, deer, sceneries, and old cabins that looked intriguing. You recognized a tree with bottles hanging on it from the Heartlands. Something weirdly started to make sense. Maybe it wasn’t all an act that Arthur was putting on. When he scolds you for shooting a witness instead of threatening them. Maybe, this man, as rough an outlaw he maybe seem to be…and though there was money on his head that you couldn’t even dream of ever having (either on your own head or in your pocket), maybe he was…soft.

It looked like he appreciated life, at least. This made you feel a bit sad about the things you had said to him earlier, when you accused him of not having anything to live for. Then you suddenly reached a page in the journal, where your own features were staring back at you.

“Damn”, you mumbled. It was a sketch of you on your horse, when you waited for the bank stagecoach to arrive over a week ago. You hadn’t noticed Arthur watching you. He most certainly didn’t draw you at that moment or at least Micah would have pointed it out. He must have done it later and yet everything seemed to be in its proper place. You remembered wearing the exact shirt and pants he drew you in, he even got the fur pattern of your horse right.

Nobody had ever drawn you before.

Of course, this didn’t mean anything. You knew Arthur didn’t like you and the words on the page surely must confirm this. It took you a few minutes to skip to the next page. Now you were taking in a drawing of a sheep when you heard quick stomping bolting towards you. You managed to turn your head to see Arthur with an angry expression approaching you. How did he come so close without you noticing? You only had time to close his journal and start to stand up, before his big hands landed on your collar and pulled you into a standing position.

You tried to open your mouth, but Arthur only took a second to snatch the book away and push you into the next best tree with his free hand. Nothing could have prepared you for the force he was using. You struggled to get a breath in after the impact, wincing at the bark pressing itself into your back.

Arthur had noticed soon after the job was done and he had arrived in Valentine, that he had forgotten his journal at camp. Dutch had called on him so unexpectedly in the morning, that he didn’t have the time to grab his journal off the table. This wasn’t a big deal, it also wasn’t the first time he had left it at camp. The bad feeling had set in when he saw it missing from where he knew he had left it. For a moment he thought he might have displaced it, but then he saw your empty tent and scanned the grounds for you. He knew you had returned before him. Your horse was grazing not far from his and you had – this time correctly – added money to the donating box and made the entry in the ledger. So, he had feared the worst.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”, Arthur’s voice was low and threatening. He let go of you to quickly skim through the journal and check if you had ripped out pages. But you hadn’t. No, you had turned each page so carefully that you hadn’t even left the smallest crease. If you had some malicious intent, you scrapped that the moment you saw the first drawing. The plan was to look through the notebook and then put it back, never mentioning you ever took it.

After you had caught your breath again, you opened your mouth for some sort of defence you didn’t yet know, but Arthur was faster.

“That’s none of your business”, he said, calmly. He almost burst on the inside though. For a brief moment Arthur thought that if he snapped your neck right here, right now, nobody would know and it would save a lot of problems in the long run. This tiny amount of pity and connection he had felt with you when he had mulled over your words about the futility of life was all gone.

“Yeah, well-“, you started mockingly. You knew you weren’t heading into the right direction. Never before had you been so apprehensive of the idea of teasing Arthur. Not only because his eyes looked at you so fiercely you feared he might hurt you seriously, but also because you wanted to know what was written on those pages. You wanted to know why he drew you and you were aware that he’d never tell you if you didn’t back down now.

But you couldn’t admit you were wrong. He’d hate you either way. He’d despise your actions no matter your decision now.

“If you’re so stupid to let it lie around-“, you started but were interrupted.

“No.” It was a firm no. And then you saw his arms stir and you couldn’t tell if he’d go for a punch or a grab, but you dogged them and slipped past him. But Arthur was quick enough to pull one of your guns out of your holster. You tried to get it back but only grabbed thin air as Arthur wound up and threw it with as much force as he could muster over the ledge of the cliff. It glittered as the sparsely remaining sunlight was reflected on it. The carefully polished metal, the expensive carving,…all of it disappeared in a second when gravity pulled your favourite gun towards the earth. Swallowed up by the forest underneath. You squealed a painful “No!”.

You looked at Arthur incredulous.

“Go”, Arthur said with a nod of his head, “You’re not wanted here.”

“But I did so much the last-“

“No amount of money is worth yer constant complainin’ and insultin’. I haven’t heard ya utter one kind word to anyone in this gang. Ya don’t fit it, y/n. And if you’re not ready to change, which I honestly think yer incapable of, it’s better you go”, Arthur tried to deliver those words calmly, but he was still fuming. It was noticeable by the way he pronounced certain words, spitting them right in your face when he came closer again, entrapping you between him and the tree.

Not this again. It was haunting you. Everywhere you went, it always ended with you not fitting in. It was always you who was kicked out, abandoned, scolded for being different. And you had known it from the very start. When Micah had approached you with his stupid idea of joining this gang, even though you knew you were better off alone, you should have just shut him down and ran off again. But this – this somehow hurt. All of a sudden, it bothered you that it was Arthur who was giving you the final blow. You had just been ready to soften up a bit, especially around him because it seemed you had misunderstood him from the first second Micah had told you about him.

You looked around nervously, a bit at loss about what to do.

“Pack yer things and get outta here”, Arthur repeated his threat, “or I’m gonna throw yer off the cliff too.”

“You don’t mean that”, you replied, way quieter than you had hoped.

“You better believe I mean that”, he said and made a step back, giving you enough space to make a run for it.

You had given up trying to argue, he won’t let you speak. So you sighed and headed of to camp, stomping towards the fire to collect your mug and plate. Arthur watched you. Rage was still coursing through his veins, so it wasn’t until later that night that he remembered your trot to be weird. Determined and strong yes, but your fists clenched and shaking. Arthur watched as you started a discussion with Abigail, who was at the pot, ladling stew onto her plate. Arthur didn’t care to listen in, he only observed Abigail's displeased face and your angry expression. Arthur had just reached his tent, his eyes still glued on you and Abigail, when he saw John stepping in and after he yelled something barely understandable, he delivered such a punch to your face that though Arthur had threatened to kill you two minutes earlier, it made his face distort into a sour expression. It didn’t seem fair. You staggered and almost lost balance. The blow had most certainly silenced you.

The last thing Arthur saw was Abigail pulling John away, who looked like he would have gone for a second punch if she hadn’t stopped him. As Arthur still observed you in the corner of his eyes, dragging your sleeve across your face, he wondered if John had started to care about his family after all. Then he tried his best to not think about you, but instead opened a bottle of gin that stood on the table in his tent. Half an hour later he left it again, looking for something to do tonight. As he walked closer to where the action was going on, he noticed something; a dim light in between the trees under Horseshoe Overlook. It didn’t take him long to realise that it must be you, scouring the grounds for your weapon.

But that was it. A simple observation. He didn’t judge it nor think much about it. Ten seconds later he secured Tilly for a game of dominoes. An hour later he joined the others at the fire, telling stories and singing songs. When he headed back to his tent to call it a night, probably way past midnight by now, he stopped when he again saw the light down below. It disappeared behind the leaves of the trees, before it flashed up a few yards further north, where the forest was lighter. This time, Arthur observed it for longer, even lighting a cigarette to study your movements for a couple of minutes. A peculiar feeling started to creep up in him. He didn’t quite now what to think of it just yet.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alright, time to fall in love, don't y'all think? ;)

CHAPTER 4 HERE

Shoutout to @little-honeypie because supporter and ideas supplier#1

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster <3

[aarohij]

How Are The Vegetables Packed And Delivered To Ensure Freshness?

Is there anything more uplifting than the crunch of raw carrots and the snap of green leafy vegetables? You can't, we wager! Because of this, keeping chopped vegetables fresh until they are delivered to your home is a crucial responsibility that every supplier of fruits and vegetables must manage.

In this article, we will guide you through how the packed vegetables ensure that it is delivered fresh.

Product Quality

The first thing to check is the condition of the food you are sending when sending fresh produce to customers. You do not want to let them down and subsequently lose business, right?

Examine the quality of your fruits and veggies before sending them to prevent anything like that from happening.

To prevent tainting the remainder of the produce, remove any bad fruits or vegetables from the shipment. Such things must be timely delivered to customers by a reputable provider.

Evaluation Of Storage Conditions

One of the foods that spoils in a few days or weeks is fresh vegetables. But it doesn't mean you can't use techniques to prolong their natural state. If their delivery is within one to two days, one of them is keeping them in a suitable environment by maintaining a room temperature of only 2.5 degrees Celsius. To prevent wilting, make sure the meal stays cool until it reaches its destination.

Reputable online cut vegetables delivery service provider takes care of the necessary things. Therefore, you should buy from trusted suppliers.

Applicable Packaging Is Used

Since moisture is raw produce's worst enemy, it is crucial to combat it by using a variety of strategies. Using adequate packing is one way to prevent deterioration of your food's quality. The following advice will help you offer your fresh food in the best way possible-

● Keep your fruits and veggies fresh by storing them in sealed produce containers.

● Seal every food item in accordance with its categorization.

● For moving bulky fresh food ingredients, use wooden containers.

● Use plastic jars for tiny, delicate items like berries and peaches.

● Add a layer of foam when packing delicate products like bananas and eggplants.

● Never put fresh items in newspapers since doing so makes them wet.

Allocate Space For Them To Breathe

All foods need a small amount of room to avoid withering. Because they won't have enough room to breathe, crowded packing will harm the quality of your fruits and veggies. This is the case because agricultural stocks continue to breathe for a while after harvesting by absorbing oxygen and releasing CO2.

But if you pack them tightly, as opposed to providing them the necessary breathing room, they will deteriorate in a day.

For instance, if bananas are packed tightly, they rapidly go rotten in a similar way, apples take up smells from their environment and quickly wilt. Give your goods room to breathe at all times.

Acting on a Proven Idea

Making progress with a plan is the proper course of action. It is essential to have a plan, even if you are only putting the things in different containers. Making a mistake in this phase might result in future losses due to dissatisfied consumers and declining revenue.

Every procedure must have planning. Therefore, have a strategy for delivering a package at all times. When to pick up and ship the products must be specified in this arrangement.

Additionally, because time is of the importance when delivering fruits and vegetables, it is equally important to take into account the length of storage of your items in the warehouse.

A proper strategy must also involve informing the clients of the storage requirements for the items. Inform your consumers whether their purchase requires any specific storage conditions. Before shipping, avoid letting these things sit in one location as this might degrade their quality.

Gain Knowledge About Their Resiliency

It is crucial to understand the resilience of the fruits and vegetables before exporting. You take a risk if you don't know how long some things have to be kept in their package. Vegetables like carrots, cabbage, celery, potatoes, garlic, and red onions, for example, remain fresh on the rack for seven days.

Endnote

These pointers should assist you in keeping your food fresh till it reaches your clients. If at all feasible, send such things through expedited delivery as packing and quality are crucial in this situation. You will gain when your clients are happy with their purchases.

Therefore, choose a fresh vegetables online provider who will help you in getting the right product.

[trapangeles]

When yo enemy delivers your food (Comedy)

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[morizoras-cave]

Delicate (Request)

Marvel Cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: fluff

Request Description: Hey I have a request. People think because I'm a small(5'3") girl I'm a "Delicate flower" and I'm really the complete opposite. So Marvel Cast x Teen!Reader. Reader was a hardcore stunt double(jumping off buildings,in simulated car accidents, fight scenes, ect.)before she got into acting,but because she's so young they try to prevent her from doing her job. (I'm evil so have her do one of the most risky stunts and nail it)

Warnings: stunt, violence (kind of), language, concerned costars :)

(A/N): hey yall im gonna update hopefully twice today or twice tomorrow? it’s because im going to BERLIN with my SCHOOL on sunday, so i dont expect to be able to write a lot. i already feel kind of guilty, since i havent even written that much this week? it can just be really exhausting you know? anyway i know none of you guys mind, its just what i keep worrying about, but anyway hope you all enjoy this :D

“Y/n, can’t you please reconsider this?” 

“No, I’m doing the stunt!” 

It was getting annoying at this point. You and the cast had been filming the newest Marvel movie for the past 4 months, and finally came the day, where your stunts were filmed. You only had this one scene (and one or two others with a bit of action) in the entire movie that included stunts, and you, being an experienced stunt double before turning into an actor, were excited. In fact, you were pretty sure that your experience as a stunt double, was what had gotten you the job in the first place. 

You expected that your co-stars would know this, but none of them did, and you found it hard to bring it up, without feeling like you were bragging or something, so you just didn’t tell them. But that was turning out to be a bad idea, as they were getting increasingly worried. 

During the first couple of months, it was mostly light chuckles and small remarks. 

“That’s gonna be tough, huh?”

But as the set was built and the day came closer, the remarks turned into a worried demands. 

“Y/n, that is way too dangerous! Tell the director that you want a stunt double!” Anthony had told you firmly and worryingly, as you came onto the set, wearing your costume. You furrowed your brows and tilted your head up to look at him.

“No, Anthony. I already told you,” you mumbled. Sebastian, Chris (Evans), Scarlett, and Tom (Hiddleston) looked over and a flurry of sighs came. The argument was starting again. 

“Look, maybe you should just listen to us - that stuff is really dangerous, and you’re just too young,” Chris told you, giving you those worried blue eyes. 

“I mean, look at you! You’re.. You know!” Sebastian knew immediately he shouldn’t have begun that sentence when he saw the narrow-eyed glare you sent his way.

“I’m what?” 

“You know... Delicate..” 

You rolled your eyes, intending to walk to a different part of set, where you wouldn’t be ridiculed, but Scarlett’s voice interrupted you. “Alright,” she said, “I’m gonna go ask Joe to give you a stunt double-” 

Just before you could retort, because, boy, was it annoying, a set worker yelled across set, running busily across set. “Guys! You’re on now!” 

You smirked cartoonishly, knowing you’d get to do the stunt, and set off to your starting position. Your coworkers watched you triumphantly getting ready, and exchanged deflated glances. They, reluctantly, got into position as well. 

“Action!”

You felt a power surge as you started, almost immediately jumping into the action. You did it just as it was written in the script, ducking beneath flying fists, taking fake punches, delivering soft blows and jumping and flipping in the air like it was nothing. 

As you dashed across the set, you glanced at Tom and Sebastian. They were both doing their own thing, but you found that their attention had been drifted slightly from the fight and onto you. Their mouths stood slightly agape.

You suppressed your grin, and climbed to the area of which you’d be jumping into a fairly narrow safety pad. You glance down and felt both anxiety and excitement tingling in your stomach. God, you’d really missed being a stunt double. 

You saw Anthony and Scarlett frowning, and then Chris glancing at the director, probably to signal yo get you down from there, but both directors were looking solely at you. 

The ground crunched beneath you, as you turned, pretending to look at approaching enemies coming up to the ledge from behind you. Then you looked down the jump and bit your lip, acting scared. 

“Welp, I guess I’m doing this,” you said as scripted, and then let yourself fall. Just as your body fell between the gap, you grabbed onto a small branch, placed there very purposefully. Your body bounced violently at the motion, and your arm tugged at the weight of your own body. 

You heard the actors playing the villains trample above you in confusion. 

“They probably jumped over! Let’s go!” they hissed, and the ledge thundered and small stones fell, as they all left you in the gap. You looked, once more just like in the script, at the ledge, the branch, and then beneath you. 

“God, bad day..” you mumbled, and comically you let yourself fall. You landed, rather gracefully in your opinion, on the pad, and fell onto safety. 

The set exploded in applause. The directors, set workers, actors and actresses, everyone was seemingly impressed, and you smiled with pride. 

“Woah, holy shit, holy fucking shit, Y/n! When’d you learn to do that?!” Chris asked excitedly, everyone running over as you stood up. 

“I was a stunt double for years. I love this kind of stuff,” you explained and watched them roll their eyes and smile in disbelief. 

“Why didn’t you say so, you dumbass?” Anthony tried to be angry, but he couldn’t hide how impressed he was. “But, for real, damn that was cool.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t know how to bring it up. Anyway-” 

“STOP CELEBRATING, WE’RE NOT DONE!” One of the directors had a megaphone and he made big eyes, as he fussed you all along. The cast laughed at him.

“Alright, but, uh- Next time, just tell us, Y/n. You gave me a fucking heart attack.” Scarlett cursed at you, booped your nose, and then jogged back to her place. You laughed and nodded.

“Tell me too!” Tom hissed, glancing at everyone waiting for the cast to stop fooling around, booped your nose once more (a very boopable surface, if you will), and ran to his position as well. 

Everyone traveled back to their places, and then you would work the scene over and over, and at the end of the day, you all went out to celebrate because, as the cast liked to phrase it, you were ‘inexplicably cool’. 

You enjoyed the food and the glory, and all was good. Looks like you weren’t so delicate after all. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906​ @xiumin-girl99​ @frostedgiant @tamayakii​

[samsbastardzone]

Hey, you know that 35 d&d questions ask meme? I answered all of them.

This is a long ass post. Be warned. It took up seven and a half pages in google docs. Original post here.

1. A favorite character you have played.

Would have to be Zize Fortier, dragonborn gunslinger. Their tag on this blog is #zize and you can find their bio and info on my character page. Love that bastard!! He’s sweet and bratty and a total delight to play (we are such an OP party, y’all).

2. Your favorite character that someone else has played.

UM UM gonna talk about a few here. To be fair to people I play a *lot* of games with, I’m only gonna  talk about one PC per person.

- The bastard trio in my Wildemount game– @toomanyorphans ’s Nakoria, @overplannedbutunnamednpc ‘s Zier (also an NPC in the campaign Zize is in), and @glasyasbutch ‘s Nissy. They all really suck so bad but in SUCH funny ways. They’re varying degrees of self centered and awful, but we trust each other in this campaign, and those 3 players are SO funny in their RP.

- (RIP) Avri in my Wildemount game. They and Bly named each other,,,,  they were parent and child…… VERY sweet. huge goliath with tiny bird in backpack.

- @bekahdoesnershit ‘s Raini. Zize’s BFF, and her tag on that blog is rich. She’s SUCH a bitch but we love her.

- @bhissar ‘s Saela. She is a dream character for me to DM for– very little fleshed out backstory with room to explore, with still-concrete events in it. Consistent character choices and personality, to the point I can sometimes predict what she’ll do. Very cool aesthetically. And overall? EXTREMELY sweet. Baby, baby bird.

3. Your favorite side quest.

Either the one going on right now in amnesia, where we have to collect brain matter from big powerful elementals, or the stop we made at a family of vampires in Acarnya (the one I played Osfyr in).

4. Your current campaign.

There are five of those, with two on hold. 

-Wildemount, aka the Frozen Sick module from Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount (we’re almost done with that, my PC is Bly). 

-Amnesia campaign aka high level campaign: we woke up in hell with no memories! PC is Zize. 

-Hoard of the Dragon Queen module, near the beginning of that, PC is Pointy. 

-Horror campaign, only two sessions so far, but we’re trapped in an alternate dimension carrying out tasks for a creepy dude. PC is Vinny. 

-Kithan, where we’re high level monster hunting guild members searching  out ancient artifacts of the gods (campaign based on the Monster Hunter games), PC is Topaz.

-Silas, party is currently trying to help dragons free themselves and stop a… dude? No spoilers! I DM. On hold because I had too many campaigns going at once.

-Silas v2: extremely vaguely based on the plot of season one of the web series Carmilla. A tweaked version of the first arc the Silas party went through. On hold because it was played in person at school.

5. Favorite NPC.

I don’t really have any NPCs in my campaigns that I’m super attached to, except– Nikeo, a goliath rogue PC in Silas 1, had many adopted children. Three of them– kobolds– sometimes stand on each others’ shoulders, put on a long coat, and help out around their parent’s store. They’ve named themselves Koby.

As for favorite NPCs in campaigns I’ve played, I can think of… a lot. The first is Laurel, a blue dragonborn loner type who followed Osfyr and friends in Acarnya. They were kind of broody and dark, but they really drew me in. They were the first NPC we really talked to– they were sitting on top of the post office laughing at the mob scene of people protesting not getting their mail delivered.

I’d also pick Osfyr’s partners in that campaign– Yelkian, a backstory love interest I came up with, a flamboyant soft sorcerer. Jupiter, politician’s niece, who took pity on Osfyr’s attempts to seduce information out of her and let them succeed on both counts (seduction and information). Xerxes, extra AF rogue with a big loving family, who swept in after a fight on the back of an eagle-wildshaped Brysth (npc druid). 

There’s a blue dragon in the HOTDQ campaign that we don’t know much about. I really enjoyed the way @dungeonsanddraconicqueer played him. He’s just a dude! Lex’s warlock made a Deal with him to leave the town alone. We still don’t know the implications of that. It’s fine, guys.

And then, there’s Stewart the Skin Steward, a servant of False Mystra. Fun dude.  Very cavalier– nigh, enthusiastic!– about the fact that his entire city was made of skin. Something of a skin connoisseur, in fact!

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

Saela, hands down. She got breathed on by a dragon, yo. We then had to stop playing for 4-5 months because a player lost access to the Internet. I wrote a vision/speech from her warlock patron, the Raven Queen, the night she died, and basically didn’t touch it until I read it out in game. It involved a confession that the Queen was  tired of being a god, and showing Saela all the lives she’d touched. Then we used Matt Mercer’s rez rules for her. She came back– but it was her choice.

7. Your favorite downtime activity.

Fucking tinkering dude!!! I don’t get to do it enough as Zize and that is entirely my fault. @ morgan, eyes emoji

8. Your favorite fight/encounter.

I LOVE creepy shit. There was a train car with people dancing in it, and party members got enchanted to dance along and eat the food,  and the revelers were clearly in pain, and snuffing out a candle caused a reveler to disappear. Creepy shit!

In Kithan, we had to climb a staircase, and we timed it with produce flame which is a 10 minute duration cantrip, and we were climbing for 50 minutes. We started to see things in the edges of our vision. Then someone realized it was an illusion, and it all vanished. It freaked me out so bad.

In amnesia campaign, at level 19, we were traversing a cave, and our shadows started dripping the same black goop we were there to investigate. We killed one and it took down the max hp of the person whose shadow it was, and then they straight up didn’t have a shadow until they long rested. It really freaked us out, realizing the shadows were actually creatures, but they were like CR 1. Really effective use of a low level monster.

9. Your favorite thing about D&D.

The way it has something for everyone… the way it’s brought me so many friends… the way it’s inspired my OC creation like nothing else.

10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most.

I’m not sure if this is asking about NPCs I’ve had as enemies, or any monster in D&D canon? The longest campaign I played in didn’t have long term enemies  per se. I’d say I was frustrated with the cultists that ambushed us last session in HOTDQ,  but I didn’t hate them! I just couldn’t seem to hit or dodge them. As for a favorite… probably False Mystra: the demon lord Orcus who’d taken over  the position, and therefore the duties, of Mystra, the god of arcane magic.  We killed it,  but then whoopso!! Our wizard lost her powers.

11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play?

I play an ideal amount, honestly: four times a week, for about 2.5-3 hours a session. HOTDQ Tuesdays, Kithan and horror campaign switching off Wednesdays, Wildemount Thursdays cause we miss CR, Amnesia Sundays.

12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

Amnesia: Yocheved, the party barbarian/full time fish, has a secret third arm and/or a prosthetic ass. Cylthia, the druid, does arson (but actually). Relentless is a Crown paladin, so she puts her fingers in her ears when we do crime/lie. She also has a rod of lordly might that, immediately post amnesia, she made into a 32 foot climbing pole. Yocheved eats pounds and pounds of raw fish for every meal.

Wildemount: just the shenanigans and sabotaging each other that the Bastard Trio get into. Example: Nissy was tasked with buying Zier a cloak for cold weather and purposely got him an  ugly one. Zier then prestidigitated it to be a nicer color.

13. Introduce your current party.

Oh boy, I have 6 of those. Here goes. Keep in mind many of these characters are played and games are DMed by my friends who have OC blogs of their own: Raini and Ayen are bekahdoesnerdshit, Ezra, Nissy, and Roona are glasyasbutch, Horror DM, Lent, Eve, and Nakoria are toomanyorphans, Wildemount DM, Saela, Daecyne, and Cylthia are bhissar, HOTDQ DM is dungeonsanddraconicqueer, and Amnesia DM, Zier, Nyxi, and Sarril are overplannedbutunnamednpc. Not an OC blog, but Yocheved, Avri, Arbor, Thraf, Nikeo, and Whisper are mickgoesabsolutelyhamforbarbie.

Amnesia (Zize): Lent, tiefling paladin, former crownsguard who “fell” (became an oathbreaker), then un-fell when we lost our memories. Cylthia, tiefling/elf druid who can shift between tiefling and elf forms and loves setting things on fire. Yocheved, 14 foot tall nereid (fishfolk) barbarian with a dry sense of humor, is the party parent. And Raini, aasimar wizard, sass machine and Zize’s bff.

HOTDQ. My PC is Pointy. Ezra, quiet human paladin. Theata, moon elf rogue. Freya, sweet (human?) light cleric who sometimes misreads situations. Eve, 13 year old (!!) human warlock who kinda sucks, but like, she’s 13. Nyxi, motherly gnome bard who Is going to adopt Pointy. 

Wildemount (Bly): Alene, human barbarian. Quiet and with somewhat of a parent instinct. Some sort of Mysterious Backstory. Delta, aasimar rogue, similarly shady backstory? Unclear. Sticks with Alene. Nissy, drow rune knight, sucks. Zier, drow sorcerer, also sucks. Nakoria, dragonborn warlock, ALSO sucks. (Those three make up the Bastard Trio.) Avri (F for them), goliath bard and Avri’s guardian, died last session by falling on a floor full of knives. 

Horror campaign (Vinny): Roona, halfling bard, very impulsive, eats exclusively with her spoon that says ASS, and chills in Vinny’s fanny pack. Ayen, elven teenage warlock with a dark backstory. Sarril, Ayen’s not-dad, half elf beast barbarian who got it from his wife. Arbor, dryad  monk, who wears an all white plague doctor outfit at all times.

Silas v1 (DM), Original party before 1 left and 1 died: Hacka (RIP), human luchador-styled drunken monk. Nikeo (left), goliath rogue with so many adopted children. Inferno, fire genasi paladin/phoenix sorcerer with anger and impulse control issues. Saela, babiest aarakocra warlock of the Raven Queen. Hacka’s player now plays Voda, a stoic water genasi tempest cleric who cast Raise Dead successfully on Saela. Nikeo’s player now plays Whisper, a tabaxi astral soul monk.

Kithan (Topaz): Thraf, monsterborn (universe-compliant dragonborn) barbarian. Very social, very outgoing, very stupid, and very traumatized. Fucks majorly. Daecyne, sweet tiefling druid and Topaz’s good friend. Viosa, aasimar homebrew class I forget the name of, uses her small stature and allure to her advantage. Damur, half-orc eldritch knight, the party’s only braincell.

14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed.

Acarnya. My PC was Osfyr. Soraphine, traumatized halfling bard. Azalea, human fighter. Durzuell, haughty high elf sorcerer. James, nerdy half elf wizard. Drago, erratic Russian dragonborn monk. Kairon, slightly edgy ranger/paladin (but we love him). 

Nordenheim. My PC was Cap. I will admit: we only played 2 or 3 sessions, so I don’t really remember  most of the other party members except Rory, a fire genasi ranger who almost burned to death.

Silas v2 (hopefully will continue; I DMed): Kysseris IV. Half-elf paladin, uptight. Tower 1-6, warforged wizard who crawled out of the desert and is looking for info on how he was made. Mae “Pock”, gnome rogue, very small and  sweet. Josh, human trickery cleric, kind of an asshole, but in a way that’s funny and hasn’t bled over into IRL annoying.

[school] West Marches campaign (Ner): by the nature of West Marches, there was never a consistent party, but a few stood out to me. Red Foot, a hyperactive kobold sorcerer who’s level 8 against all West Marches odds. Lyra, Great Old One warlock of Tzee’Mhor, an abomination goat that a party I was in accidentally created. Fildo Baggins, divination wizard who can only affect allies whose toenail clippings he has in his vial.

15. Do you have snacks during game times?

Hell yeah babey!!! I mostly play digitally, especially during COVID, and I need something to munch after DMing for a while. Shit’s exhausting.

16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer?

Welp! Online mostly, since everyone I want to play with has the audacity to live far away, and now exclusively online because of COVID.

17. What are some house rules that your group has?

Our Amnesia party is so rich that we just don’t keep track of money. In Kithan, a lot of rules that make characters less powerful are just… abolished (like the bonus action spell rule). (The DM likes super OP characters so she can throw SUPER OP monsters at us.  My character has a necklace that gives 5 additional uses of channel divinity.)

18. Does your party keep any pets?

Nope. No opportunities for them. Zize’s party has a little water snake on the druid’s arm but I doubt that will last very long.

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions?

Absolutely. Cursed dice get j a i l.

20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing?

Acarnya got me into d&d, it was my first campaign, and it was happening at the place I lived. I’ve been playing almost 2 years. (Critical Role inspired me to DM)

21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done?

Not sent a fucking letter to say goodbye to their boyfriend before the world-fate-deciding bullshit that was gonna happen and possibly destroy shit. It was fine in the end though!

22. What color was your first dragon?

Red. Man, that guy sucked, he almost killed Osfyr. We were investigating a monastery secretly run by dragons disguised as humans.

23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns?

Original campaigns. I’ve never run a module before! I’m not opposed, but most of my campaigns came from ideas  that I had. I’ve never been short on ideas for a game.

24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game?

As a player, I just open my character sheet and get out dice. As a DM, I try and think about what material I want to get through this session, and write some narration and/or stat things out if I feel like it.

For DMs

25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for?

A lot of times, Inferno has rushed into battle from what I’d built as a stealth mission, and gotten her ass and sometimes the party’s asses kicked. I should really have learned by now.

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters?

Definitely Saela’s resurrection ritual and vision.

27. Do you allow homebrew content?

Yes! I’ll check it first,  but I’m all for expanding the boundaries. I homebrew items and monsters all the time, why shouldn’t my payers get to homebrew their shit?

28. How often do you use NPCs in a party?

Too often in my first arc. I had like 7 NPCs running around at all times (they were Carmilla characters). Super not recommended. I have 0 right now.

29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions?

I’m still finding my groove with RP as a DM. I like encouraging my players to RP amongst themselves. I consider myself fairly good at combat on both sides of the equation, DM and player, so that’s always fun to me, especially when my players enjoy it too.

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

I have one actively reforming murder hobo player, the rest are diplomatic. (The character, Inferno, is having a great growth arc. I’m super proud.)

For Players

31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race?

I fucking love genasi as a concept. Favorite class would have to be rogue or cleric, but gunslinger’s up there too.

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

I  honestly don't have the patience to not play DPS. I love doing lots of damage. Healing is satisfying, support is satisfying, but there’s a reason I picked rogue twice and tempest cleric over other domains.

33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory?

Sometimes the backstory is part of the character concept– especially for Pointy, because I had the name first, then went hmm why would she have this name. Almost always, though, more backstory gets written during the campaign when I have an idea. Sometimes a character will act in a way I don’t expect, and it’s fun thinking of a justification to fill backstory gaps.

34. Do you tend to pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor?

Mostly  usefulness honestly. I’ll make choices among several for flavor, but I’m a big proponent of using mechanics to build character. What I mean is, think about Magnus in TAZ Balance– his protection fighting style contributed a lot to the way Travis played him as a protective person. I love that shit.

35. How much roleplay do you like to do?

I like to do a lot, but unfortunately my  energy is pretty down lately so I haven’t been doing as much.

[mxrlin-writes]

I had an idea in mind for Star Wars! The reader works with resistance alongside Leia. Leia organizes a work party for everyone and manages to get Kylo to come when she tells him the reader is going to be there.!The reader, being best friends with Poe, Finn, and Rey, decide to put on a fun little skit. (You can find this on YouTube. It’s a Studio C video titled Darth Sidious roommates.) The reader has the lead role and gives the other three the next main roles. Kylo watches and laughs at some

(2/2)  parts finding it entertaining. At the end of it, they all got a lot of compliments and Kylo was telling the reader how much he enjoyed watching it. He even quotes it back to her and she finds it cute.

I love this idea so so much, I changed it a tad so it’s become a college!AU set at Christmas, hope you don’t mind

EDIT: I loved this idea so much that I just straight up wrote 2,500 words. That’s like, the length of my literature coursework.

WARNING: for those who want to watch it, the sketch contains some “yo mama so fat” jokes - please bear this in mind if you have body image issues and remember, all of you are beautiful

STRIKE ME DOWN - BEN SOLO x READER

Kylo Ren x female!reader

warnings: she/her pronouns, alcohol mentions (fruit punch), swearing,

Leia throws a winter party for her work colleagues and sends an invite to her son Ben, the poster-boy for Poe and Finn’s rival hockey team.  Initially unsure about wanting to come, Ben is finally convinced when Leia tells him that (Y/N) will be there, his childhood crush. Maybe his feelings for her haven’t disappeared yet…

“I’ll get it!” you yelled into the kitchen as the doorbell rang, pushing your way past the Resistance staff who had decided that the hallway was a good place to congregate. Before today, you’d had no idea that the Resistance Newspaper had so many people working for it - initially, you’d thought it had just been Leia as editor as Poe as delivery boy. But then college drop-out Finn arrived - the First Order frat group had been way too much for him - and shortly after that, Rey had arrived. She’d been ridiculously good with writing articles and had a knack for exposing corrupt individuals.  Of course, Leia had decided that she would be the investigative journalist.

You crept into the porch, shivering slightly from the cold - it didn’t normally snow in the D’Qar neighborhood, but this winter was an exception. Temperature records were being broken nearly every day, much to the annoyance of Poe. He only had one coat, and it had been stolen by his boyfriend Finn. You gingerly reached for the door handle, opening it to see Ben Solo stood awkwardly on the threshold.

It must have been three or four years since you’d seen him last. He’d grown taller, and his silky raven hair was longer. He wore a black turtleneck and matching black jeans, a look that you’d never seen on him before. Whilst he was at the academy, he’d favored the more neutral colors in an attempt to imitate Luke. You kind of liked this new look, he looked much more grown-up than before. 

Ben cleared his throat, casting you an awkward smile - it was only then that you realised you’d been staring. “Oh, shit, yes, sorry, come in,” you said, your sentence fractured as you moved out of the way so that he could step inside the house. The porch was too small for the both of you, and you were pressed up against the wall as he removed his shoes, a rosy tint on your face that you were unsure if it was a blush or because of the cold temperature.

You eased open the door to the house and stepped in with Ben in tow. The hallway quietened as people noticed the new guest - he had a tiny bit of a reputation. Okay, understatement - he was infamous. He was the hockey captain at the Vader Academy and the second in command of the First Order frat group - he was known for being ruthless on the ice rink and was notoriously picky when it came to selecting new brothers (or troopers, as he called them) for the frat. He was the sworn enemy of those who had studied at the Republic University, particularly those who were on the hockey team. Namely, Poe. But he was still Leia’s son.

The tension was palpable and was only dissolved when Leia appeared in the kitchen doorframe to announce that food was ready. Most of the guests filed into the kitchen and the noise resumed. You met Ben’s gaze and smiled an apology before guiding him into the living room. Inside the homely room were your three friends - Rey, Finn and Poe. Rey was admiring the decorations on the Christmas tree, whilst Finn and Poe were chuckling over the family photos that decorated Leia’s mantlepiece. 

Rey looked up, grinning. “Hey Ben!” she chirped, shaking his hand. She wasn’t from the area and didn’t really have any idea about Ben’s reputation. She knew a little, of course, but not the full extent. Upon hearing Ben’s name, Finn and Poe both whipped their heads to face the door. Poe scowled, his grip tightening on the glass of fruit punch in his hand, whilst Finn looked towards the floor, pulling Poe’s jacket closer to his body. There was an awkward silence for a bit as Ben sat down. Rey looked confusedly between all of her friends, probing you with a quizzical look. “Guys, can I have a word? I know Leia said we’re not supposed to talk shop at her house but Artoo found something really cool today and I’ve only just remembered,” you said in an attempt to get the three of them out of the room. Poe grunted and stormed out of the room in two strides with Finn in tow. Rey rolled her eyes at the boys before following. “It will only take a couple of seconds, help yourself to the stuff on the table… apart from that bit of pizza, that’s mine,” you told Ben, raising your hands to your face in a “I’m watching you” gesture. He grinned, shaking his head - you really hadn’t changed.

You closed the door to the living room behind you and leaned against it. Almost immediately, Poe was on a rant. “Who the fuck invited him?” he whisper-yelled, gesturing through the wall to where Ben was presumably sat. You winced, gesturing for him to quieten down, worried that Ben would hear. “Look, I know you’re angry but-” you tried to calm Poe down whilst Finn reached a hand up to his boyfriend’s shoulder, but you were interrupted and Finn’s hand was swatted away. “Angry? Angry is the fucking understatement of the year, (Y/N)!” Poe hissed, reaching his hand up to rub his brow in frustration. “Poe, please, he’s really changed. After what happened at the Starkiller match, he’s really been trying to get himself back together. Leia said he’s working through his anger issues… please just give him a chance,” you whispered, hands still pressed against the door. 

Finn nodded in agreement with you. “It’s true, Poe. You know Poncho? The trooper I made friends with? He said that he’s a lot quieter now. He got Snoke removed as the frat leader, and since then he’s been a different person.” Still nothing from Poe’s end. Finn sighed and grabbed Poe by the shoulders, gently kissing his forehead. “I’m not saying you have to like him, I’m just asking you to give him a chance, please…” he murmured, and Poe sighed, his tense muscles dropping. Rey grinned, knowing that this meant Poe would try his best to be nice.

“Okay, you guys know the Darth Sidious roommates sketch, huh? We’re gonna perform that. Dibs on Sidious,” you grinned, and Poe rolled his eyes. Ben had quite a good sense of humour when you got to know him, and you’d figured that this would be a great bonding exercise. “I love this one,” Rey beamed as you moved out of the way so that she could open the door.

Rey waltzed in, delivering her line. “Yesterday, Sid got me to try and throw a broomstick in between someone’s tire spokes,” you watched as she flopped down on the sofa, followed by Finn with his hands in his pockets as he slumped beside her. “Okay, that’s messed up man…” he murmured. You’d have killed to see Ben’s expression - probably complete and utter confusion. “Seriously, the kid was like, five years old!” Rey said, exasperated. Poe took this as his time to join the duo on the sofa, kicking his legs over the arm of the burgundy settee and shaking his head as a reaction to what Rey had said.

You shoved the door open, now sporting your black jacket over your head. Ben practically choked in amusement, biting his bottom lip to stay quiet as you winked at him. “Good evening… roommates…” you said, putting on your best impression of the former mayor. You heard Poe stifle a laugh from the sofa and found yourself trying hard not to grin.

“How was your day?” Rey asked, trying her best to sound indifferent. “Exactly as I had foreseen,” you replied, noticing Ben grinning out of the corner of your eye as he raised his glass of orange juice to his lips and staring intently, wondering where the scene would go next. “I don’t know why I ask him anymore…” Rey shook her head and Poe nodded along.

“I can feeeeel your frustration! Frustration is a path to the dark side… take my weapon! Strikeee meee dowwwwnnn!” you tried your best at melodrama, which made Rey break character completely as she melted into hysterical laughter.

The scene continued, and Ben’s previously muted laughter became more obvious. You loved the dulcet sound of it - it sounded like honey, much deeper than when you’d had a childhood crush on him. The warm feeling of a rekindled love almost threw you off balance, but you continued to hide it, hoping that the pink at the top of your ears was not visible to anyone else in the room. It wasn’t real, you hadn’t seen Ben for four years. You stuffed the feeling back down into your chest, attempting to ignore it.

As the sketch finished, you heard Rey’s stomach rumble. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen… boys, join me!” she clapped her hands to her knees and stood, and inclined her head towards the kitchen. “’Bout time,” agreed Poe, before casting his gaze towards you and Ben, nodding towards the latter. The last shreds of tension evaporated at this gesture, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief. Finn grinned, clasping Poe’s hand and ushering him out off the room, closing the door behind him.

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments as Ben took a sip of his fruit punch, placing it down on the table with a small clink at the same time as you reached for your coffee. The result was you accidentally grazed against his skin, somehow still cold from the outdoors. A blush spread across your face, which you tried to hide with the wide rim of your mug.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” you asked, kicking your legs up so that you sat crosslegged on the armchair opposite Ben. He shook his head. “I’ve already eaten. Coming here was a split-second decision,” he added, his countenance darkening as if he felt guilty. 

“Why’d’ya change your mind?” you asked in a gentle tone, and he looked up. “You.” he answered bluntly, and it took a second for it to register in your brain. You were the reason for him coming to the party. “Leia told me you were coming, and I wanted to see you again, so I came too,” he added upon seeing the blank expression on your face. This time, you couldn’t hide the blush - it spread all across your cheeks and forced you to smile.

“Are you flirting with me, Ben Solo?”

“Depends. Do you want me to?” he smirked. You hadn’t seen him smirk like that for ages. Your heart was threatening to burst through your chest and your face must have looked like a tomato as you lowered your voice to a whisper to answer. “Maybe…” you murmured, biting your top lip. Ben leaned towards you across the table so that your faces were only inches apart. He studied your cheeks and you watched his hazel eyes flit across your face. You couldn’t hear any noise other than the two of you breathing and the crackle of the fireplace - the droning of chatter from the kitchen had drowned out. His hand reached up and cupped your face, and you leaned into it involuntarily. His face came closer, and closer and then-

Poe burst in. Ben practically flew backwards and you looked down. Suddenly, the table was a very interesting object to you. Ben was clearly having the same sudden fascination, but this time with the Christmas tree. “Nice decorations,” he nodded, inclining his head towards you and catching your eye in a cheeky glance.

“I would say that we’d go elsewhere, but, uh… Leia kinda kicked us out of the kitchen. I couldn’t stop eating the mince pies,” Poe said, throwing himself down on the sofa and staring towards Ben. “Sorry if we interrupted something,” he grinned wickedly, crossing his arms.

The rest of the party continued without a hitch. Rey was the first to leave - she had to be up early for her Jedi training the next day. Finn and Poe were amongst the last to leave - Finn proclaimed that he was not ready for the four hour drive the next day to visit Poe’s parents in Yavin. There had been some jokes about in-laws and when the two of them were going to finally get married, and then they’d retreated out into the snowy night.

Eventually, the guests had become Leia’s editing circle - who occupied the kitchen - and you and Ben, who occupied the sitting room. The two of you chattered about anything and everything, and you felt the familiar feeling form in your chest once more - this time, you let it grow. Ben was perfect - the two of you got along so well, it was almost as if you’d never been apart. He was witty and knew exactly how to come back to your quips and jokes, only adding to their humour. 

It was nearing midnight, and you were starting to tire. You weren’t bored of Ben’s company, your fatigue was more to do with the fact that you’d been up at 6am with Rey making paper chains to decorate the house. Ben seemed to notice this and glanced towards the watch on his wrist. “I should probably get going,” he stood, and you mimicked him, swaying slightly as the fatigue really hit. Ben caught you before you fell with a hand around your waist, gently holding you in place whilst you reorientated yourself. “Thanks,” you murmured breathlessly, feeling the red tint cross your face for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

You walked him to the door, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him shrug his thick black coat on. Once finished, he looked towards you, and beckoned you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing in the scent of black coffee and fire smoke. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I meant what I said about the flirting earlier,” he murmured against your hair, leaning away from you so that he could meet your eyes. “We should go for a date, sometime soon,” he continued.

You smiled bashfully, watching him turn around and grab a piece of paper and a pen from the porch windowsill so that he could write down his number. “Text me,” he said, pressing the paper into your hand. You pocketed his number, staring back up at him as he opened the front door to leave. He stepped out, shivering slightly against the cold. You hid your body behind the door in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold, but found yourself squinting your eyes against the freezing breeze.

He made his way down the cobbled path that ran down Leia’s front garden. Just as you were about to close the door, he whipped around and called out your name. You titlted your head, wondering what he had to say.

Ben gestured to the two frozen bottles of milk at the bottom of the mailbox and erupted into the best impression of Sidious that you’d ever heard. “Take the milk jug and strike me down!” he quoted your line from the sketch that you had performed earlier that evening. You giggled, rolling you eyes in mock exasperation.

He raised a hand in a gesture of goodbye, and then left into the wintery darkness. You closed the door, leaning against it and squealing with joy. 

Ben freaking Solo. 

[belovas-vest]

bechloe + "you killed him" 🌚

words: 2,233

rating: T

notes: this really took me a month huh! also, this is like… minor angst. oops?

Chloe shakes her head, tears pricking at her eyes - partly in anger, mostly out of hurt. “You’re a coward.”

Beca sets the bottle of alcohol on the table with such a force the clank makes Chloe’s ears hurt. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a coward.” Her words are firm and she hopes it delivers the message that she’s had enough of Beca’s back and forth. “You won’t admit that this thing between us means something to you, that it isn’t just about trying to forget something from your past; whatever it may be. What’s worse is you won’t help those people out there who need someone like you to take a stand against this government that’s caused so many people so much pain. I thought you were brave when I first met you, but all I see right now is a coward/”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” Beca grits her teeth and the look in her eyes startles Chloe. They’re cold and uncaring, so unlike the Beca that Chloe has been able to get to know behind the curtains of this show she puts on for the gang.

“I know you want you want out of this gang, but you feel stuck. Like you can’t move or breathe. I know you don’t want to follow these orders to sit back but you’re too afraid of hi-”

“Enough!” Beca shakes her head, eyes cast down at the table. “Get out.”

“What?” Chloe’s brow furrows. Would Beca really send her out there and feed her to the wolves?

“I said get out.” Beca’s eyes move from the table to meet Chloe’s, they’re still cold and uncaring. “Or I’ll have Emily shoot you and I don’t think either of want that trauma for her.”  The seriousness in Beca’s voice causes Chloe’s heart rate to pick up and a chill run down her spine.

Tears prick at Chloe’s eyes, fearful of what waits for her beyond the doors of this safe house. “You’re gonna send me out there unprotected?”

“You don’t need protecting. You demonstrated that the first time we met.”

“I don’t-” Chloe shakes her head, “That was a fluke.”  

Beca’s eyes leave her and Chloe watches them travel to the handgun sitting on the edge of the table. Slender fingers wrap around the base of the gun and Beca lifts the weapon to observe it closely. “You took the gun in your hands,” Her forefinger inches forward, tapping against the trigger, “put your finger on the trigger, and took aim at one of the most important men in this city.” She smirks, eyes meeting Chloe’s with something Chloe can’t quite put her finger on. Pride, perhaps or greed. Greed that Beca holds the one person that took down her enemy. “You killed him and three of his men.”

And then Beca frowns. “I took you in that night. I could have left you behind but you asked for shelter.”

“All-” Chloe’s voice cracks, “I was doing was protecting those kids.”

“And you knew what killing the Chief of Police would do. It would put you in the middle of a war.” The gun twists in Beca’s hand and Chloe tries to lean back into her seat when the gun points at her. Her life flashes before her, eyes looking into the abyss of the muzzle. Her eyes flicker to sudden movement, watching as Beca’s finger moves off the trigger and to the side of the barrel.Beca presses the front of the gun against the table, her fingers peeling off of the grip except for her forefinger and thumb, which squeeze against the edge.

Chloe exhales slowly, eyes traveling back to Beca’s face.

“Take the gun and leave.” Beca stands from her spot on the couch, swiping the bottle of beer of the table and leaving Chloe alone to stare down a gun which could have killed her less than a minute ago.

She’s not sure how long she sits there to just stare at the weapon, but she has enough time to mull through the memories of what her life was before the government tore apart her family, before the walls were built and long before gangs were the only way to survive outside of following orders the government gave - which often ended in bloodshed. She had always thought books like 1984 and The Hunger Games were just that; just a fantasy to perhaps put a little fear into what could happen. And while life isn’t near anything to Katniss’, the fences, poverty, and inner-city wars and violence are still enough to strike fear in her.

Chloe takes a breath and reaches for the gun. The weight of it still shocks her. It isn’t like the movies, it’s easier to hold with both hands. She supposes it supposed to be heavy. It’s like a reminder of how much it costs to hold such a weapon, that killing someone - especially someone who’s innocent - is a much heavier weight than a small bullet.

“Chloe.”

Startled out of her thoughts, Chloe looks up to see Benji standing behind the couch. “Benji.”

“Beca sent me to walk you out. She didn’t think you’d leave on your own.”  

Chloe forces air of disbelief through her nose, “Of course she did.” She smiles weakly at Benji before standing from her spot and letting him lead her to the front door.

//

Chloe hasn’t eaten since she left the Safe House. Granted it’s only been 24 hours, but it seems Chloe’s stomach had gotten used to eating three meals a day instead of eating scraps maybe once a day. She had found food earlier, a tossed away pizza behind a government building, however the look on a nearby couple with a small child convinced her that maybe she didn’t need the food as much as they did.

It doesn’t help that her clothes have been soaked through from the pouring rain. The holes in her leather jacket are getting bigger and the rubber on her shoes offers little insulation against the cold. She tugs at the ends of her sweatshirt sleeves, trying to keep her hands warm while she continues to look for a place to keep the rain off her.

She finds some shelter under and overpass. It’s crumbling apart, grass and vines growing between the cracks of the unused concrete. There’s a group of others who are just the same as her; rebels trying to find shelter from the weather. They’re burning some old tires, likely pulled from rusting cars, causing the smell of burning rubber to infiltrate Chloe’s senses. It’s not a pleasant smell, but the closer she gets to it the warmer she feels.

They don’t exchange any words, too afraid of making too much commotion and setting off local police - who will likely either shoot them down or hold them in a cell until they agree to work with the government.  She leaves before the sun sets knowing police grow in numbers the darker it gets.

Chloe ends up back tracking towards the Safe House. While she knows she probably shouldn’t, there isn’t anywhere that feels as safe, even if she ends up sleeping on some wet cardboard. Beca had built the area up to feel safe, even if it’s far from that, which is something Chloe found comforting, something that was an attractive quality. Beca could make Chloe feel safe in just about any situation. Yesterday was the first time Chloe felt like she shouldn’t have ever put that kind of trust into Beca. After all, Beca’s involved in a war between the government and the people. Even if Chloe can see the good Beca’s trying to do, it makes Beca a target, it makes Beca a person who doesn’t follow rules. It makes Beca someone that shouldn’t be trusted.

She about to cross into the neighborhood when there’s a strong arm that wraps around her throat and - what Chloe assumes is - a gun pressed into the side of her head. She considers screaming, but the days of people actually helping others when it comes to things like this are long gone. She tries to fight against the person pulling her into a nearby alley, but she had never done well with defending herself. It’s why she hadn’t stepped up against the government until she felt she didn’t have a choice. A part of her doesn’t want to bother fighting.

Chloe feels warm breath against her temple, feels the click of the gun, so she shuts her eyes and braces for the end.

It doesn’t.

The pulling suddenly stops, the arm around her neck drops. She hears what sounds like someone struggling for air and a body hitting the wet ground.

Spinning herself around to look at what happened. At her feet lays the body of a man dressed in clothes that are much more worn than her own. A sign that he had probably been living on the streets long before her and probably was hoping to steal something of value off of her. Looking ahead for her hero, Chloe’s met with a small figure dressed in a sleek black outfit, studded leather jacket, and a familiar metal mask with a horizontal thin piece cut out to see through, but not wide enough to see defining features. There’s some fabric hanging around their shoulders - probably a cowl.

“Beca?”

The small figure nods and puts a fingerless gloved hand out, fingers twitching.

Chloe takes Beca’s hand without question, letting herself be lead through the mass of buildings. The further away they get away from the Safe House, the more these buildings look like they’re falling apart. Beca pulls her into one with white painted brick and a worn, red wooden door, and as soon as the door is shut, she pulls the helmet off of her.

Chloe sighs and then frowns, walking past Beca. The air is filled with silence as Chloe looks at the torn wallpaper on the walls. She can feel the cold air seeping through the broken walls. There’s water on the tiled floor, although most of the tiles are cracked, broken, or missing. She’s walking into what used to be a kitchen where a family used to sit around the table and eat, talk about their day. The table, however, is missing two of its legs on one side and it’s been flipped. The fridge no longer has a door and it’s completely empty.  

“First, you want me dead and now…” Chloe trails off as she walks into the rest of the living space, looking at a moldy couch. A cockroach skitters across and the floor and Chloe takes a step back at the sight.

“I didn’t want you dead, Beale.” Beca’s voice sounds exasperated, like it’s an obvious statement.

Turning to face Beca with arms crossed, Chloe shrugs, feeling a little defensive of herself. “You kicked me out of the only safe place I had left.”

Beca takes a step forward and Chloe just takes a step back. She wants to keep distance for a moment, even if everything about having Beca in front of her is telling her to be closer.

Beca’s hands twist at her sides before she raises them like she’s trying to show Chloe she’s being passive, “I’m sorry.” Beca’s eyes flicker somewhere else before looking back at her, “But you can’t question my loyalty like that, especially when others are around. We’d both be killed for that.”

That thought hadn’t crossed Chloe’s mind at the time and suddenly guilt floods her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s okay I-” Beca sighs, taking a step forward, “I get it. I was being a jerk earlier, lying about all these things to pass as a good commander.”

Chloe takes a step towards Beca as well. “Thanks for-” she licks her bottom lip, “-earlier. With that person.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t actually gonna put you out without checking on you.”

Chloe can’t help the smile that forms on her face, “You do care.”

Beca shrugs, stuffing her hands in her pockets, “Well-” her eyes cast onto the floor, “-obviously. I am a Rebel. Some-” she looks at Chloe, “-I mean I wouldn’t, you know, not care. That’s kind of the point of this whole gang thing.”

Chloe reaches forward and tugs on Beca’s wrist, sliding her fingers to link between Beca’s. “You also kill innocent people, Becs.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I want out.”

“How do we do that?”

“We?” Beca raises her brow at Chloe.

“Yeah.” Chloe smiles, hoping the idea isn’t too offputting to Beca. Her eyes search Beca’s hoping to find anything but disgust or anger. “I don’t exactly have anywhere to go anymore and I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not gonna survive on my own. Besides, I like being with you.”

A smile forms across Beca’s face - a little shy. “Okay. Yeah, I’d- I’d like that.” Beca’s voice is soft and she finally grips Chloe’s hand back. “We go to California. It’s like a two and a half month journey, but we can try to find some sort of transportation to cut that in half or something.”

“Alright. When do we leave?”

Beca looks around the space, “We can stay here tonight and leave in the morning. We’ll stop just outside the main fence where I have some supplies.”

“You’ve been planning this?”

Beca shrugs, “I’m a coward, I always have a way out.”

Chloe pulls Beca into a hug. “I’m sorry I said that, I was mad. It wasn’t right of me, Beca. You’re not a coward.”

“You’re not totally wrong, it’s okay. If I wasn’t I would’ve left this place a long time ago.”

“I know why you don’t.” Chloe pulls back from the embrace. “That gang is your family.”

Beca frowns, “They used to be.” Grabbing at Chloe’s hand, she leads Chloe up creaky, wooden steps, “C’mon, let’s see if there’s a bed here. We should leave as soon as the sun comes up.”

[sangmer]

           PROS & CONS OF DATING SIEBOLD

pros::

-  Top quality food, always, of course. He knows more than Kalosian cuisine. Having studied the food of various regions, he had culminated many authentic recipes from Galar to Kanto. -  On a similar note, expect surprise sweets, and for him to come to your work on his lunch break to deliver food if he suspects you skip lunch. -  Despite being very stubborn, he tries his best to be respectful and considerate at least to the one he loves. For sure he would be loyal. -  Easily pleased. As much as he prefers expensive dates, he is fine with more tranquil settings: from picnics in flower meadows, to afternoon strolls on the beach. -   MONEY. -   Will kill your enemies. -   Got kids? Siebold is the best dad! -   Basically, will pamper his love. He will draw a bath for them, bring them breakfast in bed, give them a hefty allowance.... -   If you are dating him into kingverse, you basically get to rule Kalos. -  Is a switch, and very experienced ;) -  *paints you beautifully* *paints you beautifully* *paints you beautifully*  *paints yo- -  He’s a high sex drive, but guess what? Sex isn’t too necessary in a relationship! -  Very romantic! Cheesy, but who wouldn’t like their boyfriend sending them roses or buy them an entire palace. -  He is SO fucking supportive. He’ll help with your work when he has the time & you need the help. If you’re having a hard time, he will provide for you as long as he sees you making an honest effort.

cons::

-  You will likely never learn much about him for quite a while. He doesn’t talk of his past, and many times will deny to speak on it when asked. ( you have a better chance getting anything out of him if he’s drunk, though. ) -  He lies. One may not know it but he lies for convenience. ESPECIALLY if one does not know about his criminal acts. -  Speaking of which, he may try to force you to be an accessory to murder, depending on who you are and if you find out he is a killer. -  The sickeningly sweet facade sort of fades once one finds out the truth about him. -  Overprotective , paranoid & possessive. -  He will cook ANYONE who finds out his secret, and are obviously not one who can keep it. No one is above his ultimate goal. -  WORK.  A LOT of work. If you are dating him, do not expect him to hang out with you after work. He begins early in the morning and is off deep into the night, sometimes until 12 am. -  Unfortunately, as he does not talk about his problems, one will ever know how to not step on his toes. & he has a short fuse, if you say the wrong thing he WILL get angry. -  He is desperate to be married and have kids. He will talk about it throughout the relationship, but he will force it after a few years, and if he doesn’t get his way, well, you know. -  In short, it’s best to not stay too long in a relationship with Siebold. How to get out of the relationship? Hell if I know.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Three Flaws

I made a City of Heroes level. It’s a neat idea, but it’s not...uh...good.

There are three basic things that stop it from being good. They all can be fixed. Let’s give them a look!

So it’s a story in which there are lizard people and a creepy hypnosis undertone a lot like the cuckoo plotline of Sandman. There are members of the species whose job it is to make nearby humans docile so they just sit there while the lizards rip them up for food.

The basic story is:

1) A witch tells you that her familiar has informed her of people being killed in her homes. She is under the effect of this hypnosis already, but gets around it because she’s just repeating what her familiar reported. You go to an office complex at the familiar’s direction and find citizens being accosted by lizardfolk. Also a lot of piles of human bones. When you rescue citizens they don’t run for the exit or follow you; They just say, “Nice day isn’t it?” and proceed to eat donuts and wander around the office where there are still lizards.

At the end of this mission you meet a lizard that looks different from the others and “rescue” it from a group of other lizards. It explains (counter to all your physical evidence) that the lizards are fine and nobody in the office building was hurt. This is a huge relief! It asks you to meet it at the pier later. You promise you will.

2) The witch’s familiar, frustrated with her, demands she casts a spell called Nightmare’s Invocation of Truth. She doesn’t see why, because clearly nothing is wrong, but she likes the idea of sending a bunch of capes to rough up her rivals in the Cabal, so she decides to humor it. She more or less tells you this outright; that she’s using you and that this mission is for a kind of petty reason. But if you’re a hero any excuse is good enough for beating up Cabal; They kidnap citizens and suck their souls out as a matter of course, so fewer on the streets is always better. And if you’re a villain you might think being this petty (or just being violent) is fun/amusing.

In any case, you go beat up some evil witches and return with urns of mystic powder.

3) The witch is casting her spell. Your memories of the pier are suddenly rushing back. You play through a memory where you recall killing a bunch of police officers with the lizards at your back. The lizard used you as a weapon to take over a tanker ship.

4) Nightmare’s Invocation has fortified your minds, at least temporarily, against the lizards’ hypnotics. You, in-character, are suddenly aware of everything you the player knew was wrong. However there’s evidence that the Queen is laying another brood and will swiftly produce another army - one that might be able to overcome your new defenses and enslave you anew.

You fight your way through waves of lizards, deal with an ambush when you break the first of the eggs, and finally destroy the Queen and break every egg in the cave.

5) Weeks have passed since the extermination. You find out that Crey Biotech kidnapped the lizard that hypnotized you at the office and it wasn’t there when you slaughtered the rest. The witch predicts that it has probably become another Queen on psychically sensing the existing Queen’s death. Due to Crey’s unscrupulous use of their existing tech, it doesn’t really matter whether they could control her hypnotic power or not. If they can’t there’s a Crey facility full of lizards now, and if they can Crey is probably developing a new mind-control tech that will let them take over the world without a struggle. Either option is awful for anyone who isn’t a Crey executive or a lizard.

You go to the Crey facility and it’s the worst of both: The new-formed Queen has already birthed a new brood using Crey’s incubators and they’ve been collaborating with Crey Biotech with the Queen taking the helm of the company. You have to fight your way through Crey and the brood both and slay the new Queen.

As you kill her, she laughs and tells you she was already a Queen back when she had you take over that pier for her. Her body may not be invulnerable but you can’t really kill her, because her eggs have already been safely delivered to tens of other ports.

She promises she will see you again, very soon.

Problem 1: The original idea was just to make a farming level; A zone with mildly interesting monsters that had anti-combos. That is, they’d have a bunch of abilities (allowing them to give full xp as a creature of their rank) but the abilities wouldn’t work in concert or actually make the fights substantially harder. At this I failed utterly. Mainly I think I underestimated the power of healing and defense. I gave a bunch of little target-ally heals to the mooks because I was playing solo when I was testing. I could either kill the healer lizard first or kill their target with a surprise attack before they could get there and then that power was useless - the target-ally heals do not allow target-self.

That’s great and all, but, uh, if you play with 8 people you get to deal with big crowds of these little twerps. And Bosses will appear. Oh yeah, and I gave my bosses crowd control powers as their power set. This means there are units with buckets of health - you can’t instantly burn ‘em down - AND they’re being healed by the crowd of minions.

They wiped the floor with us. Their team had ridiculous synergy. Part of it is that as I was making the enemy group I got away from the original idea and started making creative critters.

Solution 1: Basically I need to go back and focus. At this point the story is an actual story, not a farm, so I should make them thematic. Focusing them around a theme will also make them easier by and large, because it gives them things the faction is bad at, holes in their team composition you can exploit. One thing to consider also is that not all enemies have to hit the “100% XP Value” mark in terms of the number of abilities I give them; It’s okay for some enemies to be low-priority targets because they’re not as powerful.

Problem 2: Plot holes. Right now there’s a bit of weirdness at the beginning: If the “everything is fine” aura is so pervasive, why do the heroes fight in level 1? Why do they kill a bunch of the lizards before they meet the master hypnotist? It can’t be that she has to target you; too many people would raise the alarm anyway (the security guard looking at footage from blocks away, the neighbor across the street, etc). Also, in the writing as it currently exists the witch congratulates you for saving the world as her text at the end of level 5, when the game is supposed to be ending on a spooky note.

Solution 2: For the beginning, I think a line about you coming in from out of town does it. You haven’t been here long enough to get lulled. (It’s not like players need a TON of explanation, here; Anything that can hand-wave it should be fine) As for the end, the congratulations speech can be moved to the end of level 4 and a new spookier ending written for 5. No sweat.

Problem 3: Level 3. Level 3 suffers 2 problems. First of all it’s on a map I hate. It’s the sprawling inside of a tanker and it’s easy to miss one of the officers you’re supposed to take down. Second, it was originally supposed to be a farming level so I gave you a bunch of allied units to help you kill stuff faster, but CoH staff thought of that; computerized ally units take a share of xp. So it’s worth hardly anything.

Plot-wise I need there to be a nautical theme to the zone you attack. But it should be easier to navigate if at all possible. And if it’s going to be worth little xp it should be quick. I like the idea of the allies because the whole idea is you’ve been recruited to help the lizards. I’d have had a whole sequence where the lizard was your quest giver while you were enthralled, but within a single story you’re allowed only 1 quest giver in the mission architect.

Solution 3: See if there’s a dock zone to use. Worst case I can just declare one of the warehouses a shipping warehouse at the dock. As far as the allies, I think I can set the lizards up as a neutral group that happens to be fighting your enemies. If you get to enemies and land a hit this should mean you get full xp. If you don’t land a hit before they fall you don’t get xp but this should make the level much faster. Either way it works.

I was really demoralized when my story turned out to be not good. Not fun for groups, janky plot-wise to run solo, not good even to grind for xp. First drafts be like that, yo. They can be fixed.

[cancerianprincess]

Birkin Bag (2)

|Part One|

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Angst, Kidnap Mention(s), Mild Violence

Quick A/N: Didn’t plan on doing an OC, but still wanted ‘Reader’ to have a name, so you are Aniya, Aniya is you, & that’s “Y/N” for the series. That cool? Everybody got it? Aight bet 🙂👍🏾

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

____

“It’s been two days now, can’t we just kill him already?”

“No, stupid! Do you want to start an international incident?”

Erik could only roll his eyes at the bickering taking place in front of him. They couldn’t have possibly been professionals, because professionals never discussed business around their captive, or argue, to put it more accurately. Still, they weren’t totally inexperienced either, and that’s probably what pissed him off the most about this situation.

“Man whatever, I’m tired of this ‘being patient’ shit.”

“Well that’s what yo’ ass get for giving him the wrong injection! Ain’t nobody fault but yours he was out for a day and a half, we coulda been got somewhere with the operation.”

Him of all people, Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens, Prince N’Jadaka of Wakanda, had been taken down in his own home. And even if it was late when he got home from the range with Aniya, he still should’ve sensed them from a mile away. Though he couldn’t be too hard on himself, because thanks to the big, burly, Harambe looking nigga in the corner, he had given him a run for his money in that fight. That dude was damn near bigger than M’Baku!

“Fuck the plan, I’m bout to just shoot this nigga right now.”

“Tee, put the gun away. What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

Nevertheless, now wasn’t the time to think about that. Before the vaguely familiar woman could put a cap is his ass, Erik needed to concentrate on how to escape without breaking the promise to his aunt and cousins that he’d never go on another psychotic murderous rampage ever again.

“Please? Just one to the shoulder, that’s all I’m asking.” But Harambe wouldn’t give in to the whining.

“You heard what the man said, we gotta wait til she notices he’s really missing.”

His brain had been multitasking the entire time, dually focused on both the conversation and breaking free of his restraints, but when the word ‘she’ hit Erik’s ears, he only had to ponder for half a minute until it registered. There was only one female he was tight with that would think to immediately come to his aid in circumstances such as these.

‘It’s a trap.’

Alarm rapidly grew in the pit of Erik’s stomach, but he refused to let it show. He wasn’t sure how to make it happen, but if there was any chance to prevent Aniya from getting hurt, he would have to play it cool in trying to get the two captors to accidentally disclose pieces of their strategy to him.

“Aye...Aye!”

They turned around at his second shout, realizing that Erik was actually speaking to them now.

“Look, Jay, he’s finally talking to us,” the girl cooed, pretending to be honored. Her partner whipped to peer at her with a hint of panic. “How the hell you gon’ just throw my name out there like that, Tracee?”

She simply scoffed. “Bruh, you literally did the same thing to me, like just then.”

“And?” Jay shot back. “He been awake for a good minute now. Ain’t no telling what he already done heard.”

“Exactly. So stop bitching, aight? He gone be dead soon anywa-”

Erik cut into their dispute with an intentionally exaggerated laugh, which gave him precisely what he wanted.

“Yo, y’all funny,” he joked, drinking in their irritation expressions. Time to follow his asshole side with the playboy act. “Listen, y’all two real cute and allat, but say shawty, why don’t leave ol’ Magilla Gorilla over there alone and come talk to a real man?”

Tracee’s face fell blank for a second or two before brandishing a wicked grin that was semi-genuine. She retrieved something from the table they were working at and began stalking her way over to the chair Erik was strapped to.

“Yeah, gone head and cut me out these ropes, ma.”

He didn’t really except her to comply that easily, but if she got close enough, one good head butt would do the trick. All he’d have to then was get loose, grab the gun from her hip, and tag Big Boy one good time so he could dip.

But unfortunately for Erik, the woman advancing on him wasn’t about to let that happen in the slightest. Tracee knew if anything could weaken her prey, it was the file she held in her hand. Which is precisely why she threw it open in Erik’s lap after drawing her weapon, placing it to his temple. She nudged him with the barrel, silently prompting him to take a look at it.

���You know if I were you, I’d shut my mouth and open my eyes instead,” she purred. “Save as much energy as possible.”

Erik bore his daggers at her for another moment, but reluctantly did as he was told and inspected the image lying on the very top of the pile of paper.

“Because that smooth talking ain’t gonna get you far with me,” Tracee continued, her voice growing darker with each word she spoke. “Unlike it did with my sister, sadly.”

That’s when any sort of guard Erik had up began crumbling away.

He thought he recognized the crazy bitch towering over him, and when his gaze fell on the name at the top of the folder, he knew exactly how he knew her. Through clenched teeth Erik asked her, “‘The fuck is this?” His voice was low but the bass in it caused his barely audible question to be heard. Tracee responded with malicious snickering rather than an actual answer as she backed away from him slowly. Erik repeated himself again, only this time he roared it, finally tearing away from the black and white photo that was now burned into his memory.

Still the woman said nothing, merely flickered her eyes to a spot behind Erik to glance at the source that would rebuttal in her place.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, homie.”

It was a third voice that Erik had yet to hear since waking up in the foreign location, but before he was even able to identify it the third stranger struck him with something blunt, delivering a hard blow that knocked Erik out cold.

********

You felt something was up by the third day. Erik never missed a chance to taste your mom’s cooking, except for the rare cases when he was otherwise occupied. Even in those instances, he would always ask you to snag him a to-go plate to retrieve later on. So when he never showed up for dinner that Sunday afternoon without a heads up, it had been icing on the cake.

Granted, it wasn’t like the two of you constantly stayed up each other’s asses and talked every single day, but 72 hours of complete radio silence? No texts, no call, no stupid Snapchat, absolutely nothing. There hadn’t even been one single funny tweet sent to your DM’s and it just didn’t seem right. Plus, Erik’s fatass never turned down some good soul food, so after lumping two and two together, your better judgement was done taking the back seat. Something was definitely wrong.

“Your boyfriend not coming for dinner today, Aniya?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ma,” you said, rolling your eyes at her obvious teasing. She merely smirked, thinking otherwise by how frequently you were checking your phone. You fed her the first sensible excuse that came to mind as an attempt to downplay it.

“The center has some kind of conference or something coming up, so they probably had Erik on call for the prep work. But because you’re so worried about him, I’ll go fix him a plate since he’s your ‘favorite child.’”

That had been several hours ago, the recent memory playing back of you ambling into the kitchen to mask your jittering leg. Now you were hurrying towards Erik’s front door, having practically sped over to his apartment the minute you reached your car. But after making the walk from the elevator, your hand stopped short of knocking, eyes alert once spotting that the door was already hanging open slightly. You inched it open a little further, tapping twice with your knuckles just in case anyone was still inside.

“Erik,” you called out. “Yo, you in here?”

No answer came so you proceeded to investigate with caution, but instantly felt a wave of queasiness bud in your stomach due to what you saw next.

Nearly everything in the main room of the two-bedroom had been trashed. The couch was slanted at an odd angle, no longer in its designated place, while both armchairs had been overturned on their sides. Shards of what used to be the glass coffee table laid scattered across the living room floor along with all the items it once held. There was even a rather large hole in the wall closest to the hallway. All clear signs that there’d been a struggle or fight of some kind.

As soon as shock loosened its grip on your body, panic took over and sent you searching through each section of the apartment, yelling for Erik the whole way. Your feet raced from room to room, your mind going twice as fast trying to piece together what could’ve possibly happened. None of them appeared to have been damaged; the kitchen, bathroom, home office, and Erik’s room all remained untouched, but unfortunately empty as well.

Returning to the starting point of your search, anxiety continued to flow through you as you placed your hands on your head, thoughts bouncing around like rapid fire.

“Who would attack Erik? And in his own house, at that? I mean, sure he’s done his fair share of wrong, but he’s been making up for it all since coming back from his first trip to Wakanda,” you thought.

No matter who was behind this or why, you knew you had to track them down quick before Erik relapsed back into his old ways, or worse. The list of enemies was potentially endless, with the outreach center opening and newest addition to the United Nations and all, but you figured you had to start somewhere. Right as you reached for your phone, racking your brain on where to even begin, it went off in your pocket. In fact, it buzzed continuously, signaling more than one new notification:

Unknown (3)

At first you raised a puzzled eyebrow at the screen, but given the circumstances decided to click on the messages rather swiping them away. When it opened the first thing you saw was a shared location, leaving you even more confused than just a few seconds ago. But when your gaze drifted up to the bubbles above it, confusion quickly evolved back into panic.

‘If you want your boyfriend back be at the old Stokely Warehouse by midnight. Come alone.’

The next one was even more grim than the first.

‘No cops or we put a bullet in his skull.’

You blinked at your phone several times, gradually letting your mind wrap around the seemingly unreal situation that was now at hand. You had to have been staring at it for a good bit, because you only zoned back into reality long after the device’s screen had went black.

And that’s when it all hit you like a ton of bricks.

Erik had really been taken by some mysterious ass goons.

Who had evidently been tracking his whereabouts.

Or the movements of the apartment at the very least. That had to be it, for it was the only way they could’ve known to send you the demand right then and there. And now they wanted you of all people to be the one to go and retrieve him.

But that was the question, though: why you? If it was money these people were after, you certainly didn’t have it. They should’ve hit up the Wakandan council for that; it wasn’t necessarily a secret anymore regarding their wealth, or Erik’s true identity, so demanding ransom from them would have made more sense.

None of that mattered now, though, because the bottom line was that your best friend was in danger. You registered the fact that Erik’s specific skill set would probably kick in and he’d off every last one of those dumbass bums, but instantly remembered that he was on a different path now. You were so proud of him for attempting to overcome all the traumas of his past and trying to shy away from the ‘Killmonger’ persona, and now who knew if this would trigger a setback for him? Just thinking about either dilemma and its following outcome was enough to launch your anger into overdrive.

You bolted from the loft, dialing a number while backtracking to your car. Starting the engine and reversing from the parking space in record time, you began leaving a voicemail for your boss when she didn’t answer. Not going into specifics, you simply spun a tale about some ‘family emergency’, knowing it would get you at least the next week off. That way, you’d have plenty of time to save your partner in crime and put the bitches in the dirt who’d started all this. Maybe ask questions first, if you felt like it.

But before any of that could happen, you zoomed through the night, shredding back to your place for a swift pit stop inside. Because if you were gonna do this, you would need the bag Erik had brought back for you from Wakanda.

~~~~

*Y’all I’m so sorry 😭😭 I know this one might have been a teeny bit long but it’s just how it ended up flowing but still, thanks as always for reading and sticking with it!! 💋”

|Part Three|

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @eriknutinthispoosy @wheredidallthedreamersgo @sonofnjobu @bidibidibombaclaat @turn-thy-paige @ayellepea @another-imaginesblog @mzbritt @youreadthatright @chaneajoyyy @theunsweetenedtruth @marvelpotterlove

[anxiousauthor89]

Head First

Angry, confused, and bitter Trinity grew hate for the man that left her with this seed. She tried to get rid of it 4 months ago, thinking life would be back to normal. She would work out a lil bit, lose the weight and go slap Shawn back to his senses. But it didn't happen that way. In fact, she had met a new man. Long dreds, shining gold teeth, tattoos everywhere, and gave her more dope then she can handle. When they first met she got fucked up at a party. Trying to forget about Shawn. Trying to self abort the baby. The internet said drinking and partying can terminate pregnancy. But this baby was worse than the roach that wouldn't die. So when she met Junior, at the party and realized he was actually an enemy of Shawns, she decided to spill the beans on how grimey he is. See, back in the day Shawn fucked Juniors ol lady. She had twins. And he never got over it. He was always down to hurt Shawn in some sort of way if he could. But Shawn was not to be played with. You really got to catch him sleeping. And he never sleeps. Knowing how careful she had to be to get Shawn back, she told Junior he got her friend pregnant, and she wants to fight her to make Shawn mad. "Nah man." Junior said. "That's dumb. One thing he care about is his kids. Give her this sack." he said as he threw it at her. "If she still pregnant and he know about it that mean he gon let her have it. But give her this sack and I bet she wont birth shit. Dat nigga gon boo hoo cry booyyy I cant wait to see his ass hurtin ol puss ass." he grinned. She had never done drugs. But this could end it all. And get revenge on Shawn. "This shit aint gon have me, I just need to get this situated and im off this shit." she told herself as she smoked the dope in her car. The high hit her so hard she passed out and woke up to Junior knocking on her window. "AYE! TAKE YO DRUNK ASS HOME MAN ITS 6AM!" Lowkey ashamed she got it together and rolled the window down. "My bad man. Aye I think I lost that sack gimme one more man my bad that Ciroc is on me." Junior knew the look that high gave people. He had gained a customer. He smirked and said "Mhm here. I'll fuck witcha." He walked away rapping to himself, knowing she would be back. And just like clock work, she was. Every other day. She couldn't help herself. It felt like the perfect escape. Before she knew it the end of the year was approaching. By this time shes almost 9 months along, and made a fool of herself every time she attempted to talk to Shawn. The holidays were approaching, so she decided to spend some time with the only people who would love her, even when she didn't love herself.  "You know I be missing you why you only come when its food?" her daddy pinched her cheek. She laughed and kissed his bald head. He adored her. A preacher that could make hell shake but would cry when they got whoopins. He had a heart of pure gold. "Make sure you wash your hands and change your shirt before you help with this food. Why you got on them big ol clothes anyway I thought you were out of that tomboy stage...?" her mother teased. She had always been a chubby girl that could rock boy clothes and still be cute. Trying not to do anything that signaled her dishonesty she replied "mama you know I like TLC this how Lisa Left Eye dresses." laughing and doing a twist of her hips. "Mhm. Ya look more like Lisa Left & Lost It but okay. Yall think im dumb." she mumbled. That was it. Mama knew. And she knew mama knew. But aint no way she was gon admit it. Not around the other family members anyway. She and her sister Melodie were close and they always had been. She began to worry about how she would react knowing there is a whole baby being hidden. They told each other everything. But this one Trinity had to deal with on her own. She was determined not to say a word. She hadn't even gone to the doctor the entire pregnancy. She had a plan. All she had to do is wait it out. The time was near. She felt it in the pressure her lower belly was experiencing. The sharp pains in her back. It was close. And she was ready. She tried to quickly walk away so mama wouldn't see the shame on her face, but Uncle Leroy caught it. "She pregnant! And out of wedlock at that! Told yall she should have came to that shut in service we woulda been praying that lust demon right on out of her!" he blurted out. Overwhelmed with rage and embarrassment from his statement putting her on blast she shouted back "SHUT UP! THIS WHY I DONT COME WHEN YALL ARE HERE! MIND YO BUSINESS! AINT YOU ON WIFE NUMBER 3? YOU ALWAYS BEING JUDGEMENTAL AND RUNNING YO MOUTH! I CANT STA.." "HUSH GIRL!" Mama interrupted. She knew how Trinity felt about some of the family. And she understood. But disrespect she could not condone. "Go sit on my bed baby. Rest ya nerve, hea?" she softly spoke before she kissed her forehead. Already too embarrassed she picked up her purse and walked out. "Where you going? Its Thanksgiving you not gon stay?" her mom yelled from the screen door with her hands on her hips. "No mama im sorry. Happy Thanksgiving. Tell Melodie I love her." she said trying not to cry. Putting the car in reverse she thought about her plan one more time, reminding herself that she has every reason to follow through. She drove 4 hours back to the apartment she shared with a friend and laid down. She felt so uncomfortable. But tried to fall asleep anyway. Thinking she had to pee, she jumped up heading to the bathroom. "EEEW What the fuck why cant I hold my pee?!!" The liquid was running out of her faster than her feet could run to the toilet. Finally she got in the bathroom, slipping on the wet spots she was making with her trail. She sat on the toilet breathing hard, dizzy, and feeling like she had to take the biggest shit. "I aint had cheese in months I know im not constipated, this shit hurts what the fuck?" Within her next breath a contraction hit, and she became aware of what was happening. Eyes growing big and knees starting to shake, she wiped as much of the liquid as she could. She ran to her closet and pulled out her dirty clothes bin. Behind it was her bag, packed with an extra change of clothes for her after she delivered. She put the bag in the passenger seat and drove to the hospital. She sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, trying to get her mind right before going in. "Lets go Trinity. You got the plan figured out." She thought to herself. Taking one more deep breath as the contraction passed, she got out and walked into the emergency department. A blue eyed blonde haired lady grabbed her hand and said " I know that look you're in labor. Come on I just cleaned out this room. We need to take vitals and get you hooked up on a monitor. How ya feeling?" Starting to wobble from all the pain Trinity mumbled "Im fine." In reality she was far from fine. It felt like the baby was right on the verge of coming out. "Ms. I have a question." She stammered. "When I have this baby how long will it take to get parents to pick it up? You can give me the papers now & by the time it comes out a mama and daddy should be here right?" she almost smilied thinking this was the perfect solution. That was her plan. Just give it to somebody. Its always commercials about people wanting kids. It was a no brainer. Laughter snapped her out of her happy place she had briefly found. "No honey. Bless your heart. That takes time. You should have began that process when you found out about the baby." she continued laughing. "Unless theres a case of accidental death, looks like you're stuck with this one! My assistant will check on you soon, then we will see about managing your pain with an epidural. Sit tight." she closed the door. Hearing those words took Trinity from panic to desperation. Now she had no idea what to do. She played it cool until the nurse walked out. "Ok think bitch THINK!" she said out loud as she leaned back on the bed. "This slow hoe saying accidental death what the hell lady?! Be for real! That's not an option." she smacked her teeth. A pain hit her belly and she put her hand down on her butt. "What the...am I shitting on myself?! OUUUCCHHHH! OH MY GOD AAAH!" She laid back and reached further down and realized....that's hair...The baby was there. And it was coming out. "Oooooh ssshhhiiiit. Ooooooh shhiittt! Shit! Ssshhiiiit!  Ok. Chill Trin." She laid quiet, thinking of a new plan. "Knock, Knoooock" A nurse came in. " Just making sure you doing ok. We cant have you pushing out the baby alone we want both of you to make it okay sweetie? I will be back soon." The smiling nurse walked back out. "We want both of you to make it." Those words were ringing in Trinity's head like monkeys with symbols. "I got it." she said. She put her phone in her purse and put her bible in the bottom of it. She couldn't look at it knowing what she was about to do. She looked around the room once more, and laid down. Spreading her legs open she held on to each side of the bed, shut her eyes tight and began to push. She heard what sounded like water balloons hitting the floor. Growing fearful that her time was ticking and the nurses would catch her, she bit down on the sheet and let out a scream while pushing her absolute hardest. Feeling like her heart would explode, and her whole body shaking, finally she felt the release. The baby was out. And falling to the floor. Head First.  

[cxxxoticarchive]

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢.

“Ay… Skeppy, it’s me… Again, yea.” Exotic had his forehead pressed against the cold wall as he held a handset close to his ear. Xotic beat on his lip before he could continue. “It’s crazy out here, you know… Um, I just-… I don’t know why I’m telling you all that, I just-.. I ain’t got no one else to call and..” Xotic growled lowly hating himself for what he was saying, for how he felt and the whole situation. “I kno’ ya don’t wanna see or hea’ me, but ugh… Don’t leave me here all alone, man, I need ya…” Leaving this voice message was a bad idea but Exotic couldn’t really stop himself. Humiliating himself he kept calling Skepta almost every day but never progressed and has been left on a voice message. “Hey, little prince, your time is out.” The officer announced as he loudly chewed on his gum. Xotic nodded and hung down the handset before making his way towards his cell.

Holding a tray in his hands, Xotic made his way through the aisles of tables looking for a free seat. Finally, he found a free table and landed down his tray before sitting down and picked up the spoon; his face scrunched up by the look and the smell of the prison food. “What’s up babygirl? Food ain’t fancy enough for ya glitter ass?” A male with a scar across of his face leaned over and whispered to Exotic’s ear. Xotic’s fist balled up as he tightened his grip on the spoon. He made himself a promise to behave, he didn’t need no trouble on his ass, he just tried to kill his sentence and get out. Exotic just clenched his jaw, shook his head and decided to ignore as he picked some food with a plastic spoon. But, the male wasn’t going to leave Exotic alone, more to it, he didn’t like to be ignored. “Yo, why so silent? You chocked on a dick or something?” But Exotic remained silent and sat there not even moving. “Imma have to teach you manners, you have to reply when you are talked to.” The male grew aggravated due not getting any reaction and grabbed Exotic by his dreads that were pulled in the pony. That’s when Xotic exploded. With a swift turn around, he delivered the spoon right into the male’s eye; a loud, inhuman scream boomed through the prison eatery. But Exotic wasn’t done and the spoon that now stuck out the man’s eye wasn’t enough for him; he pushed his enemy until his huge body fell down and hovered over him throwing his fist in merciless punches until his own body got grabbed by the two officers. “Take him to the damn isolation!” Exotic could care less now, and like a wild mustang he tried to get free from the hold and get back at his enemy, he was broken mentally which brought him to his psychotic explosion. But, he quickly calmed down once one of the officers slammed the gun handle against Xotic’s head and knocked him off. 

“Ay, Kamillion

I hate ain’t nobody warned ya that my ass won’t be able to see ya, I bet ya came and had to sit in dat stink ass visitor room. I hope ain’t nobody tried to holla at yo’ fancy ass, huh?

I hope ya been doin’ good tho. How’s the babygurl? Just wait ‘till I get out so Imma spoil her, gotta be the best uncle of the year. I mean, if my ass gon’ get out this year.

While being held in this hole you keep thinking about a lot of shit, ya kno? I had to pay this lil pig so he would bring me a damn piece of paper so I could write you a letter like we live in Shakespeare age . Just wanna let ya kno’ I’m okay so yo’ brazy ass won’t raise hell and shit. Ya have a lil one to take care off, remember? But yo, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I appreciate ya so much for being here by my side. I don’t know how the fuck ya found me and shit, but man, it’s ain’t Thanksgiving but I’m so thankful for ya being my friend while I need it the most. You being the one to come and show support means hella shit for a kid.

I don’t know when the fuck Imma be able to have these visitor hours but hey, once I get outta pen we gonna turn the fuck up, ya hear me?

Love,

Exotic.

SLATT.”

[dfroza]

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

for August 31 of 2021 with Proverbs 31 and Psalm 31, accompanied by Psalm 73 for the 73rd day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 93 for day 243 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 31]

[Inspired Word]

King Lemuel’s royal words of wisdom:

These are the inspired words my mother taught me.

Listen, my dear son, son of my womb.

You are the answer to my prayers, my son.

So keep yourself sexually pure

from the promiscuous, wayward woman.

Don’t waste the strength of your anointing

on those who ruin kings—

you’ll live to regret it!

For you are a king, Lemuel,

and it’s never fitting for a king to be drunk on wine

or for rulers to crave alcohol.

For when they drink they forget justice

and ignore the rights of those in need,

those who depend on them for leadership.

Strong drink is given to the terminally ill,

who are suffering at the brink of death.

Wine is for those in depression

in order to drown their sorrows.

Let them drink and forget their poverty and misery.

But you are to be a king who speaks up on behalf

of the disenfranchised

and pleads for the legal rights of the defenseless

and those who are dying.

Be a righteous king, judging on behalf of the poor

and interceding for those most in need.

[The Radiant Bride]

Who could ever find a wife like this one—

she is a woman of strength and mighty valor!

She’s full of wealth and wisdom.

The price paid for her was greater than many jewels.

Her husband has entrusted his heart to her,

for she brings him the rich spoils of victory.

All throughout her life she brings him what is good and not evil.

She searches out continually to possess

that which is pure and righteous.

She delights in the work of her hands.

She gives out revelation-truth to feed others.

She is like a trading ship bringing divine supplies

from the merchant.

Even in the night season she arises and sets food on the table

for hungry ones in her house and for others.

She sets her heart upon a field and takes it as her own.

She labors there to plant the living vines.

She wraps herself in strength, might, and power in all her works.

She tastes and experiences a better substance,

and her shining light will not be extinguished,

no matter how dark the night.

She stretches out her hands to help the needy

and she lays hold of the wheels of government.

She is known by her extravagant generosity to the poor,

for she always reaches out her hands to those in need.

She is not afraid of tribulation,

for all her household is covered in the dual garments

of righteousness and grace.

Her clothing is beautifully knit together—

a purple gown of exquisite linen.

Her husband is famous and admired by all,

sitting as the venerable judge of his people.

Even her works of righteousness

she does for the benefit of her enemies.

Bold power and glorious majesty are wrapped around her

as she laughs with joy over the latter days.

Her teachings are filled with wisdom and kindness

as loving instruction pours from her lips.

She watches over the ways of her household

and meets every need they have.

Her sons and daughters arise in one accord to extol her virtues,

and her husband arises to speak of her in glowing terms.

“There are many valiant and noble ones,

but you have ascended above them all!”

Charm can be misleading,

and beauty is vain and so quickly fades,

but this virtuous woman lives in the wonder, awe,

and fear of the Lord.

She will be praised throughout eternity.

So go ahead and give her the credit that is due,

for she has become a radiant woman,

and all her loving works of righteousness deserve to be admired

at the gateways of every city!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 31]

How Great Is Your Goodness

For the Pure and Shining One

A song of poetic praise by King David

I trust you, Lord, to be my hiding place.

Don’t let me down.

Don’t let my enemies bring me to shame.

Come and rescue me, for you are the only God

who always does what is right.

Rescue me quickly when I cry out to you.

At the sound of my prayer may your ear be turned to me.

Be my strong shelter and hiding place on high.

Pull me into victory and breakthrough.

For you are my high fortress, where I’m kept safe.

You are to me a stronghold of salvation.

When you deliver me out of this peril,

it will bring glory to your name.

As you guide me forth I’ll be kept safe

from the hidden snares of the enemy—

the secret traps that lie before me—

for you have become my rock of strength.

Into your hands I now entrust my spirit.

O Lord, the God of faithfulness,

you have rescued and redeemed me.

I despise these deceptive illusions,

all this pretense and nonsense,

for I worship only you.

In mercy you have seen my troubles, and you have cared for me;

even during this crisis in my soul I will be radiant with joy,

filled with praise for your love and mercy.

You have kept me from being conquered by my enemy;

you broke open the way to bring me to freedom,

into a beautiful, broad place.

O Lord, help me again! Keep showing me such mercy.

For I am in anguish, always in tears,

and I’m worn out with weeping.

I’m becoming old because of grief; my health is broken.

I’m exhausted! My life is spent with sorrow,

my years with sighing and sadness.

Because of all these troubles, I have no more strength.

My inner being is so weak and frail.

My enemies say, “You are nothing!”

Even my friends and neighbors hold me in contempt!

They dread seeing me,

and they look the other way when I pass by.

I am totally forgotten, buried away like a dead man,

discarded like a broken dish thrown in the trash.

I overheard their whispered threats, the slander of my enemies.

I’m terrified as they plot and scheme to take my life.

I’m desperate, Lord! I throw myself upon you,

for you alone are my God!

My life, my every moment, my destiny—it’s all in your hands.

So I know you can deliver me

from those who persecute me relentlessly.

Smile on me, your servant.

Let your undying love and glorious grace

save me from all this gloom.

As I call upon you, let my shame and disgrace

be replaced by your favor once again.

But let shame and disgrace fall instead upon the wicked—

those going to their own doom,

drifting down in silence to the dust of death.

At last their lying lips will be muted in their graves.

For they are arrogant, filled with contempt and conceit

as they speak against the godly.

Lord, how wonderful you are!

You have stored up so many good things for us,

like a treasure chest heaped up and spilling over with blessings—

all for those who honor and worship you!

Everybody knows what you can do

for those who turn and hide themselves in you.

So hide all your beloved ones

in the sheltered, secret place before your face.

Overshadow them with your glory-presence.

Keep them from these accusations, the brutal insults of evil men.

Tuck them safely away in the tabernacle where you dwell.

The name of the Lord is blessed and lifted high!

For his marvelous miracle of mercy protected me

when I was overwhelmed by my enemies.

I spoke hastily when I said, “The Lord has deserted me.”

For in truth, you did hear my prayer and came to rescue me.

Listen to me, all you godly ones: Love the Lord with passion!

The Lord protects and preserves all those who are loyal to him.

But he pays back in full all those who reject him in their pride.

So cheer up! Take courage, all you who love him.

Wait for him to break through for you, all who trust in him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Book 3]

The Leviticus Psalms

Psalms of worship and God’s house

[Psalm 73]

God’s Justice

Asaph’s psalm

No one can deny it—God is really good to Israel

and to all those with pure hearts.

But I nearly missed seeing it for myself.

Here’s my story: I narrowly missed losing it all.

I was stumbling over what I saw the wicked doing.

For when I saw the boasters with such wealth and prosperity,

I became jealous over their smug security.

Indulging in whatever they wanted, going where they wanted,

doing what they wanted, and with no care in the world,

no pain, no problems—they seemed to have it made.

They lived as though life would never end.

They didn’t even try to hide their pride and opulence.

Cruelty and violence are parts of their lifestyle.

Pampered and pompous, vice oozes from their souls;

they overflow with vanity.

They’re such snobs—looking down their noses.

They even scoff at God!

They are nothing but bullies threatening God’s people.

They are loudmouths with no fear of God, pretending to know it all—

windbags full of hot air, impressing only themselves.

Yet the people keep coming back to listen

to more of their nonsense.

They tell their cohorts, “God will never know.

See, he has no clue of what we’re doing.”

These are the wicked ones I’m talking about!

They never have to lift a finger,

living a life of ease while their riches multiply.

Have I been foolish to play by the rules and keep my life pure?

Here I am suffering under your discipline day after day.

I feel like I’m being punished all day long.

If I had given in to my pain and spoken of what I was really feeling,

it would have sounded like unfaithfulness to the next generation.

When I tried to understand it all, I just couldn’t.

It was too puzzling—too much of a riddle to me.

But then one day I was brought into the sanctuaries of God,

and in the light of glory, my distorted perspective vanished.

Then I understood that the destiny of the wicked was near!

They’re the ones who are on the slippery path,

and God will suddenly let them slide off into destruction

to be consumed with terrors forever!

It will be an instant end to all their life of ease;

a blink of the eye and they’re swept away by sudden calamity!

They’re all nothing more than momentary monarchs—

soon to disappear like a dream when one awakes.

When the rooster crows,

Lord God, you’ll despise their life of fantasies.

When I saw all of this, what turmoil filled my heart,

piercing my opinions with your truth.

I was so stupid. I was senseless and ignorant,

acting like a brute beast before you, Lord.

Yet, in spite of all this, I still belong to you;

you hold me by my right hand.

You lead me with your secret wisdom.

And following you brings me into your brightness and glory!

Whom have I in heaven but you? You’re all I want!

No one on earth means as much to me as you.

Lord, so many times I fail; I fall into disgrace.

But when I trust in you, I have a strong and glorious presence

protecting and anointing me. Forever you’re all I need!

Those who abandon the worship of God will perish.

The false and unfaithful will be silenced, never heard from again.

But I’ll keep coming closer and closer to you, Lord Yahweh,

for your name is good to me. I’ll keep telling the world of

your awesome works, my faithful and glorious God!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 73 (The Passion Translation)

[xtruss]

Lukashenko Stands in the Way of Fire Sale of Belarusian Industries

The last country in Europe where 80 percent of its industries are publicly owned

— Israel Shamir | Enti-Empire.Com | Russia Insider | The Unz Review

It’s not over yet, but can Lukashenko survive the storm? Ever since the presidential elections of 8/9/2020, Belarus has experienced fitful waves of protests. The protesters claim the elections were rigged, just as the pussy-hat ladies accused Trump in 2016. The protests are presented to the world through the magnifying glass of the global fake news machine. There are dozens of media channels, all elaborating on the theme of election rigging and protest suppression.

But Belarusian suppression is not something to write home about. The crowds aren’t big, for Belarusians are quite civil and obedient folk, they even wait for the green light (a rare quality in the East). Despite provocateurs and Soros-trained revolutionaries, there are few wounded, much less than your average confrontation between globalist protesters and local police, whether they be called Gilets Jaunes or Black Lives Matter.

One protester tried to throw a hand grenade into police ranks; by his own miscalculation the grenade exploded in his hand and he died of his wounds. This incident is already being presented by the mass media as “mass murder” and even “genocide”. EU ambassadors came to place flowers at the place of his martyrdom. This latest media hero is being turned into the new George Floyd, an apt comparison because the unfortunate Belarusian Bomber also had a rich criminal record. They are now producing a BLM sticker where the B is for Belarus. Should this be called “cultural misappropriation” or is this a “violation of terms of use”? Youtube would give it an automatic copyright strike.

The presidents of Poland and Lithuania offered their mediation implying that Lukashenko should step down. It is hardly a tempting offer. In 2014, the then Ukrainian president accepted the European offer of mediation and in a few days he was forced to flee to Russia.

Lukashenko is made of sterner stuff; his policemen succeeded in putting the protests down, and the protests weren’t that strong anyway. It is still too early to bet whether the colour revolution will definitely fail or win. What is the cause of the protests, beyond complaints that life is unfair? Who is financing and organizing these demonstrations?

Well-endowed Belarus has a few suitors. The NATO enemies of Russia want to move their tanks within shooting range of Smolensk; Poland wants to regain its old dependency (Belarus was under the Poles for hundreds of years). Russia wants to swallow Belarus, and Papa Lukashenko is too tough for them to chew.

An additional hazard to Belarus sovereignty is the murky and mighty body that has organized the worldwide over-reaction to coronavirus and forced billions of people into detention. Lukashenko is the hero who reject all demands for lockdown; Belarus remained calm and free in the midst of global hysteria. Belarusians enjoyed football games while the rest of the world ducked and covered. Easter time, Belarus churches remained open and mass was celebrated. On May 9, VE day, Belarusians had their Victory Parade, while even the steely-eyed Putin was forced to cancel. Such disobedience to the global regime had to be punished.

Like Fidel Castro, Papa Lukashenko has ruled his country for generations now. He has been re-elected every five years since 1994 when he, the youngest politician in Europe, defeated the incumbent Prime Minister in open election. Even now, at a spritely 65, his stature remains uneclipsed. His results in Minsk, the capital city, were over 60%; his main competitor received 15%, while for the whole country he received about 80% of the vote, an impressive result. Too impressive, his enemies say. In any case, there is no doubt he carried the majority of his countrymen.

Belarus is a mono-ethnic state, with very little diversity; there are no strong political parties, no powerful and independent media, no oligarchs, no super-rich. It is still very Soviet-like, but a very neat, clean, modern, well repaired version (the USSR was quite shabby). Another difference: no party politics. While the Soviets were always ruled by the official Communist party, Lukashenko has no party. He doesn’t like parties because they separate people. He wants people to be united – and it works. There is no significant opposition party. The opposition says, “AGL [Alexander Grigoryevich Lukashenko] go away, you ruled for too long time, we are tired of you”. A sane citizen will not vote for people who have no agenda beyond power lust. Being tired of a president is not really a good argument.

After the first exit poll, “rigged elections” became the battle cry of the opposition. Like the Clintonites, who could not believe that anybody would vote for Trump, the opposition in Belarus could not imagine why people would vote for this ancient (65 yo) fossil. Indeed such claims are the staple food of modern politics; there is hardly a country on the globe where election results are not disputed. The claims are always that the results were falsified, or the people misled, or the elected president didn’t deserve being elected; or he was voted in by racist rednecks; or Russia swung the polls. The reasons why election results should not be recognised is limited only by the human imagination.

AGL’s latest election victory was officially recognised by countries around the world. He was congratulated by the presidents of China, Russia, Turkey as well as by the Moscow Patriarch Kyril (Belarus Church is an integral part of Russian Orthodox Church). The opposition is trying to stimulate interest in regime change by following Gene Sharp’s textbooks: heat it up with attacks on police, then cool it down with girls dressed in white sharing flowers and posing with those same cops. It is the carrot and the stick. Point and counterpoint. Freedom Fighter and Martyr. The technique has worked successfully in many countries, and probably will be tried this November in the US.

Belarus shows us what “foreign meddling in elections” really looks like. It is not placing a few ads on Facebook. It is training hundreds of young men in the arcane arts of inner-city warfare: how to mix Molotov cocktails; car-ramming 101; cross-border infiltration; how to smuggle cash; recruiting and paying merceneries; how to run a 24-hour crisis centre from abroad; where and how to assault police; how to prepare and run a scripted colour revolution – this is how foreign interference influences Belarus elections.

What do the protesters want beyond the removal of AGL? It turns out they do have an agenda: they want to make it easy to hire and fire workers, to end trade union protection and state labour laws; to end price regulation. These are the usual neoliberal ideas, but here is the most important: they plan to privatise and sell the country’s assets. But here their unified front collapses: the Pro-Western opposition wants to sell Belarus to Western investors, while the Pro-Russian opposition wants it to be sold to the Russian oligarchs. These assets are rich and plentiful. 80 per cent of all industry and agriculture remain in public property, more than in any other European state.

Belarus is the last surviving remnant of the Soviet Union, the last Soviet Socialist republic. The USSR was based on state ownership of the means of production; that is, factories, research, industry and agriculture. In the Russian Federation, these national heirlooms were privatised by Boris Yeltsin and given away to a few oligarchs. Not so in Belarus. Their industry is still publically owned; their farms still belong to local farmer cooperatives and not to globalist agro holdings.

Belarus is still quite wealthy; its industry has been modernised, and so has their agriculture. They produce and export a lot of everything, mainly to neighbouring Russia. Europe has little interest in Belarusian lorries and sausages because they have their own lorries and sausages to sell, but Russia buys them because they prefer them and know they are a good value for the money. Belarus’ dairy, furniture and fashion continue to be popular in Russia.

Belarus inherited two huge refineries, one in Mozyr and another in Novopolotsk, capable of turning raw oil and gas into ready products. Russia produces raw oil and gas, Belarus refines it; they should be able to make a good profit working together. But the Russian oligarchs behind Gazprom weren’t satisfied with their usual take, so they created an intermediary company based in Lithuania; the company “buys” Russian gas and then “sells” it to Belarus. The Belarusian payments are redirected offshore to the oligarchs’ bank accounts. Some of it eventually reaches Russian state coffers, but much goes astray.

Gazprom kept raising the price of oil delivered to Belarus refineries until this ostensible ally was being charged more than the hostile states of Ukraine and Germany. In response, Belarus switched to refining Norwegian and Saudi oil: it was cheaper than Russian oil. Now they refine American oil. Belarus has since decided to cut off Gazprom’s intermediary company, and Belarusian police are now investigating the siphoning-off of Russian state funds to offshore accounts. The Russian oligarchs are very unhappy about all this; they are now bankrolling the Belarus protests and funding a shrill campaign against AGL in Russian media and social networks.

President Putin has a different game in mind. He would like to see Belarus joining Russia as its constituent republic. He does not care much for AGL (who stood up to the corona hysteria even better than himself), but neither does he want to be led by his oligarchs. That’s why he expressed his support during the elections and congratulated AGL with his victory. But Russian media continues to play against Lukashenko, whether it is by the media lords’ demand or because of their desire to echo their Western brethren.

All oligarchs, East and West, would like to destroy the last remnant of the USSR and erase all possibility of learning from it. This is what the elections and the attempted regime change is all about at the bottom line. They are annoyed by the successes of AGL’s Belarus. If you think socialism is not a successful strategy in economics, consider Belarus and think again.

For a time, at least until 2015, the Belarus economy was the fastest growing one in Europe; its GDP grew 10% a year. After the terrible collapse of 1991, Belarus was the first to rebound (by 2002), while Russia lagged behind until 2006. Just look at the evidence: (1) the totally unnecessary destruction of the USSR resulted in a complete economic recovery in just 16 years for partially-privatised Russia; (2) state-owned Belorus was able to bounce back within 12 years; (3) the totally privatized Ukraine was never able to recover. Even now their economy is 65% of what it was in the last Soviet year of 1990.

You can see in the below graph of the Russian (light grey) and Belarus GDP (solid line) between 1990 and 2018, that good old Belarus has managed quite well under AGL. There, salaries grew faster than labour productivity (as opposed to, say, the US or UK where labour productivity grew while salaries stagnated); there was (and is) practically no unemployment in Belarus.

After 2015 Belarus stagnated, and this was closely connected to the stagnating Russian economy, but still they managed fine.

One of Belarus’ secrets of success is that Belarus has practically no corruption. I was told by a friendly Russian businessmen that it is almost impossible to bribe a Belarusian official (as opposed to Russia where officials are legendarily corrupt). They told me that the Belarus KGB (they retained the brand name) is always vigilant, always fighting corruption. They have a transparent banking system, and the average Belarusian citizens’ support of the anti-corruption ethos makes a Belarusian official very, very reluctant to accept a bribe. (It has to be paid into a European bank in another country, and it is not an easy thing to arrange in the present climate).

As a post-Soviet state, Belarus is quite strict. The country is so clean because AGL is known for prowling the streets personally. If he discovers some garbage lying around, he calls out the local mayor and forces him to clean it right away. He has more than a touch of Lee Kuan Yew (LKY), the legendary Prime Minister of Singapore from 1959 to 1990. Perhaps AGL will also serve as long as LKY (31 years!), meanwhile he has 26 years under his belt.

Another mark of strictness is a special tax that non-working persons are obliged to pay. It is heir to the Soviet Parasite Tax. A non-working person can be even tried and sentenced. Belarusian socialism is not a haven for welfare abusers.

The average tax in Belarus is 30%, unless one works remotely in the IT industry. Computer-savvy Belarus has 75,000 IT consultants, engineers and technicians who work for companies located in the EU, Russia and the US. If the average salary in Belarus is about $500 per month, the IT specialists earn over $2500 and pay only 7% tax. I suspect that AGL wants to make it cheaper to pay the tax than to evade it. One would think these guys would be happy, but they are not. Many of them joined the protests. They want a more liberal society, and this is natural.

The US wants to bring Lukashenko over to its side; and wily AGL is ready to play along. Now he processes American oil in his refineries. AGL wants to stay friendly with everybody, and his new close friend is China. In Belarus, the men in power say their country will become the Chinese hub in Europe. Belarus is very, very close to Russia, but it is also afraid of being engulfed and devoured by this friendly giant. If the pressure upon AGL keeps increasing he may have to decide to get off the fence and join Russia. The US knows this and tries not to push him too far, but Russians are smart enough to encourage the protests with exactly this goal in mind.

Will Lukashenko liberalise his state? Is it possible at all, without surrendering all their hard-won social achievements? I am not so sure. Perhaps as long as imperialist powers ply their trade there may be no way to create a liberal socialist state. That was the conclusion of Vladimir Lenin: he wrote that the liberal stage would be reached when there are no predators laying in wait. He was quick to smash the Kronstadt revolt.

The workers of Belarus must understand what will happen to them if the rebels achieve victory. Their industries will be sold and dismantled so it can’t compete against the globalists’ preferred vendors, as has already happened in Russia, Poland and Latvia. The terrible example of the Ukraine should keep them out of the revolt. But will it?

Such differences may have to be solved by force, if protesters will not accept the democratic vote. If it is only force that neoliberals will accept, then force it must be. Force may have to decide whether or not Belarusian socialism will survive. After all, colour revolutions are not doomed to succeed – they have failed in many countries. In case of a pro-Western coup, Russia is likely to intervene, as she is permitted by the CSTO treaty. But Russia is not in favour of socialism, in Minsk or elsewhere.

My advice to the US administration is to capitalize on their success in Venezuela. When the US wasn’t happy with Venezuela’s president, Mr Maduro, they didn’t bother with elections but instead they chose (“recognised”) a certain Mr Juan Guaido, a rather junior member of the opposition. They assigned to him the assets of Venezuela, including all the gold the country carelessly kept in the Bank of England; they took over the Venezuelan embassies and gave them to Mr Guaido, and the man gratefully signed a contract promising millions to US-based mercenaries for kidnapping the actual president and enthroning Guaido.

Now the West is dissatisfied with the Belarus presidential elections. The Belarusians stubbornly reconfirmed their president Mr Alexander G Lukashenko (AGL) into his position, and he is himself a stubborn guy who refuses to sell his country’s assets and invite in the NATO tanks. My advice to US leaders is to re-use Mr Guaido; recognise him as the new President of Belarus, and have it done with. Why pretend that sellouts are different because they sell different countries? Guaido has proven his devotion to Uncle Sam; he already has experience at being a “recognised” un-elected president. Long live President Guaido of Belarus!

P.S. Re Beirut. Some people suggest “mini-nukes”. I doubt it, for Israel and the US do not possess the required technology, as I’ve been told by a Russian physicist. Only the USSR had the mini-nuke technology; Russia inherited a few; new ones weren’t manufactured for years.

The problem is that mini-nukes are made of californium and suchlike isotopes, and can be produced only in the course of large-scale military-grade plutonium production as its byproduct. Israel never produced that much plutonium, and the US uses a different process altogether. So I advise taking the “mini-nuke” revelations with a grain of salt.

— Source: The Unz Review

[downtothewater]

Blessing of Water, Chalk, Candles, and Fire

The following are a set of rituals I use to prepare certain elements very common to me in my work: holy water, consecrated chalk, blessed candles, and exorcised fire.  These rituals are based heavily on the Solomonic magical tradition as well as Catholic and Orthodox rites for blessing or preparing certain sacramentals.  Having these elements on hand takes care of the vast majority of my day-to-day spiritual needs, with incenses, herbs, and decorations being used for other workings limited to certain circumstances.  When in doubt, keep it simple, and what could be simpler than the divinity of water and fire?

Blessing of Water

The following is the ritual I use to create holy water, which I use in all sorts of projects and rituals from a daily cleansing of the self to creating complex solutions for later work.  The water has the effect of driving off evil and suprressing pain while increasing virtue and well-being.  Besides, they say that cleanliness is next to godliness.  Water is a critical component of religion, magic, and spirituality across many cultures and time periods, and has been made or blessed in as many ways: some of the ancient Greeks dipped a torch of sacred fire into a vessel of water, while the rivers Jordan, Tigris, or Ganges have all been claimed to be holy entirely.  I compiled the ritual below from three sources: the Key of Solomon (book II, chapter 11), a Catholic ritual for using holy water, and a Greek Orthodox ritualfor creating holy water (the Mikros Agiasmos, by way of Fr. Rufus Opus’ now-discontinued Red Work series of courses).

Holy water should be made in the day and hour of Mercury (especially if the water is to be used for magical purposes) or Jupiter (for religious and blessing purposes), though either is acceptable in addition to the day and hour of the Sun for general needs, when the Moon is waxing; I prefer the day and hour of Mercury generally.  Holy water is made from fresh, clean water.  Water from a spring or stream is ideal, but water from the tap will do fine so long as it is clean, clear, and tastes good.   Salt is also needed, preferably uniodized white sea salt, one teaspoon for every cup of water.

Before making the holy water, being in a purified state is suggested.  Banish, bathe, cleanse, fast, and pray to enter into a spiritually clean state before making holy water in this manner.  Making holy water in other ways may not require this, but it may be difficult to engage in divine acts so to make something so completely clean with dirty hands.

Place the salt in a cup large enough to hold the needed amount.  Bring the water in a pot to a rolling boil, and continue boiling for at least five minutes.  Turn off the heat.  Say the following over the salt to exorcise and bless it:

Tzabaoth, Messiah, Emmanuel, Elohim Gibor, Jehovah, O God, the Truth and the Life, deign to bless + and sanctify + this creature of salt, to serve unto us for help, protection, and assistance in all places and at all times, and may it be a succor unto us.  Almighty God, we ask you to bless + this salt as once you blessed the salt scattered over the water by the prophet Elisha.

I exorcise you so that you may become a means of salvation for believers, that it may bring health of soul and body to all who make use of you, and that you may put to flight and drive away every apparition, villainy, turn of devilish deceit, and every unclean spirit from the places where you are sprinkled, adjured by him who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire.

Wherever this salt and water are sprinkled, o Lord, drive away the power of evil and protect us always by the presence of your holy Spirit.

Pour the salt in a cross formation into the water.  Say the following over the mixture to bless the water with the now-cleansed salt:

Lord God Almighty, creator of all life, of body, and of soul, we ask you to bless + purify + and sanctify + this water by your heavenly blessing.  Grant it the grace and blessing of the Jordan and the power to cleanse all defilements, to heal all illnesses, and to drive out evil spirits and their deceits and snares.  By the power, action, and grace of the all-holy Spirit, let this water be for the cleansing of the soul, the calming of passions, the expulsion of all evil, the increase of virtue, the healing of illnesses, the sanctification of homes and of all places, the driving out of all destructive and evil-doing spirits, and the reception of your grace for those who drink this water in faith, receive it, or are sprinkled with it.  Lord, in your mercy give us living water, always springing up as a fountain of salvation; free us and our body, our soul, our spirit, our and mind from every danger, and admit us to your presence in purity of heart.  As we use this water blessed by your grace in faith, forgive our sins and save us from all illness and the power of evil.

Recite Psalms 102, 54, 6, and 51 over the water while stirring it with a spoon in a clockwise direction:

Hear my prayer, Lord; let my cry for help come to you. Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly. For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations. You will arise and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to show favor to her; the appointed time has come. For her stones are dear to your servants; her very dust moves them to pity. The nations will fear the name of the Lord, all the kings of the earth will revere your glory. For the Lord will rebuild Zion and appear in his glory. He will respond to the prayer of the destitute; he will not despise their plea. Let this be written for a future generation, that a people not yet created may praise the Lord: “The Lord looked down from his sanctuary on high, from heaven he viewed the earth, to hear the groans of the prisoners and release those condemned to death.” So the name of the Lord will be declared in Zion and his praise in Jerusalem when the peoples and the kingdoms assemble to worship the Lord. In the course of my life he broke my strength; he cut short my days. So I said: “Do not take me away, my God, in the midst of my days; your years go on through all generations. In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discarded. But you remain the same, and your years will never end. The children of your servants will live in your presence; their descendants will be established before you.”

Save me, O God, by your name; vindicate me by your might. Hear my prayer, O God; listen to the words of my mouth. Arrogant foes are attacking me; ruthless people are trying to kill me— people without regard for God. Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me. Let evil recoil on those who slander me; in your faithfulness destroy them. I will sacrifice a freewill offering to you; I will praise your name, Lord, for it is good. You have delivered me from all my troubles, and my eyes have looked in triumph on my foes.

Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long…? Turn, Lord, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes. Away from me, all you who do evil, for the Lord has heard my weeping. The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer. All my enemies will be overwhelmed with shame and anguish; they will turn back and suddenly be put to shame.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight; so you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge. Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. Yet you desired faithfulness even in the womb; you taught me wisdom in that secret place. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, o God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you. Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, o God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. May it please you to prosper Zion, to build up the walls of Jerusalem. Then you will delight in the sacrifices of the righteous, in burnt offerings offered whole; then bulls will be offered on your altar.

Finally, recite the following prayer over the water, while continuing to stir the water in a clockwise direction:

Lord, holy Father, look with kindness on your children, redeemed by your Word and born to a new life by water and the holy Spirit.  Grant that those who are sprinkled with this water may be renewed in body and spirit and may make a pure offering of their service to you.  Shine on it with the light of your kindness.  Sanctify it by the dew of your love, so that, through the invocation of your holy name, wherever this water and salt is sprinkled, it may turn aside every attack of the unclean spirit, and dispel the terrors of the poisonous serpent. And wherever we may be, make the holy Spirit present to us, who now implore your mercy.  Amen.

At this point, the salt will have completely dissolved in the water.  Say a thanksgiving prayer (such as the Prayer of Thanksgiving).  Bottle or store the water as desired.  Light a candle and some incense (preferably frankincense) by the containers of water as an offering to God, and let the candle and incense burn out before using the holy water.  So long as the bottles are kept sealed and free from contaminants, it should keep for a while without bacterial or fungal growth.  If herbs such as hyssop or basil were used in the creation of the holy water, however, the mixture will eventually turn clouded on its own, at which point it should no longer be used.

As I first mentioned in this 2012 post, to use the water to cleanse myself, I will often take a small cupful of it with me to bathe with.  After having showered normally, I will lift the cup of holy water above my head and pray:

With this water consecrated, sanctified, and blessed by the grace of God do I cleanse myself and free myself from all defilement, impurity, and filth.  Grant, o Lord, with this holy living water that you have given mankind, that I may be made clean and cleansed in the eyes of God and men.

After that, I pour the holy water on my head, and wipe myself down with it in a continuous downward motion so that my entire body has been cleaned with the holy water.  This done, I then pray the Asperges Me followed by the Glory Be:

Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor. Lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor. Miserere me, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam. Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto, sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper in secula seculorum.  Amen.

Translated into English:

Sprinkle me, o Lord, with hyssop and I will be cleansed. Wash me, and I will be made whiter than snow. Pity me, o God, according to your great mercy. Glory be to the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.

Blessing of Chalk

With such consecrated water, I then use a blessing of chalk to consecrate and prepare the stuff for use in rituals and workings.  This consecration could also equally be used for any writing instrument, like pens, pencils, or charcoals.  Take chalk in a day and hour of Mercury, preferably when the Moon is waxing and in the sign of Virgo.  Sprinkle the chalk with holy water and say the following over it.

O God, heavenly father, eternal spirit, fountain of light, present in all places and father of all things, who fashioned the world in the seven days of creation, bless this creature of chalk that it may be used for the aid, defense, and salvation of the human race.  O Lord, through the invocation of Your holy name Elohim Tzabaoth, grant this chalk the power and blessing to preserve that which is just and true from losing its justice and truth.  Just as you provided safety for your Word eternal, so too may this chalk provide the same for us and in all purposes that it shall serve us.  Amen.

Blessing of Candles

Likewise, with the chalk, I use a the blessing ritual from the Key of Solomon (book II, chapter 12) to preprare consecrated candles, as I described in this 2014 post.  For this, in a day and hour of Mercury when the Moon is waxing and in a zodiac sign of Fire, I asperge the candle with the holy water, anoint it with holy oil, recite Psalms 150, 103, and 117 over it:

Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits— who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed. He made known his ways to Moses, his deeds to the people of Israel: The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children— with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts. The Lord has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all. Praise the Lord, you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word. Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts, you his servants who do his will. Praise the Lord, all his works everywhere in his dominion. Praise the Lord, my soul.

Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples. For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord.

After the three Psalms, I suffumigate the candle with incense while and recite the following prayer over the candle:

O Lord God, who governs all things by thine almighty power, give unto me, a poor sinner, understanding and knowledge to do only that which is agreeable unto Thee; grant unto me to fear, adore, love, praise and give thanks unto Thee with true and sincere faith and perfect charity.  Grant, o Lord, before I die, and descend into the realms beneath, and before the fiery flame shall devour me, that thy grace may not leave me, o Lord of my soul. Amen. +

I exorcise thee, o creature of wax, by him who alone hath created all things by his word, and by the virtue of him who is pure truth, that thou cast out from thee every phantasm, perversion, and deceit of the enemy, and may the virtue and power of God enter into thee, so that thou may give us light, and chase far from us all fear or terror.  Amen.

Blessing of Fire

I typically reserve these consecrated candles for altar use or specific workings that call for them.  For most purposes, however, I use unconsecrated candles.  Whether I’m lighting a candle that’s previously been consecrated or not, so long as the candle is not being lit as a specific offering to a spirit, I recite the same exorcism over it:

I conjure thee, thou creature of fire, by him who created all things both in heaven and earth, and in the sea, and in every other place whatever, that thou cast away every phantasm from thee, that no hurt whatsoever shall be done in any thing.  Bless, oh Lord, this creature of fire +, and sanctify it that it may be blessed +, and that it may burn for your honor and glory +, so neither the enemy nor any false imagination may enter into it, through the Most High and Holy Creator of All.  Amen.

This exorcism of fire is based on the Trithemian ritual of conjuration, though it also has variations found in other Solomonic texts like the Heptameron.  When the Sign of the Cross is made in this exorcism, I make the Sign over the lit flame instead of on myself.

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings September 24, 2018

Psalm 80

Psalm 80

Prayer for Israel’s Restoration

To the leader: on Lilies, a Covenant. Of Asaph. A Psalm.

1 Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock! You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth 2 before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh. Stir up your might, and come to save us!

3 Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

4 O Lord God of hosts, how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers? 5 You have fed them with the bread of tears, and given them tears to drink in full measure. 6 You make us the scorn[a] of our neighbors; our enemies laugh among themselves.

7 Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

8 You brought a vine out of Egypt; you drove out the nations and planted it. 9 You cleared the ground for it; it took deep root and filled the land. 10 The mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches; 11 it sent out its branches to the sea, and its shoots to the River. 12 Why then have you broken down its walls, so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit? 13 The boar from the forest ravages it, and all that move in the field feed on it.

14 Turn again, O God of hosts; look down from heaven, and see; have regard for this vine, 15 the stock that your right hand planted.[b] 16 They have burned it with fire, they have cut it down;[c] may they perish at the rebuke of your countenance. 17 But let your hand be upon the one at your right hand, the one whom you made strong for yourself. 18 Then we will never turn back from you; give us life, and we will call on your name.

19 Restore us, O Lord God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Footnotes:

Psalm 80:6 Syr: Heb strife

Psalm 80:15 Heb adds from verse 17 and upon the one whom you made strong for yourself

Psalm 80:16 Cn: Heb it is cut down

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 77

Psalm 77

God’s Mighty Deeds Recalled

To the leader: according to Jeduthun. Of Asaph. A Psalm.

1 I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, that he may hear me. 2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. 3 I think of God, and I moan; I meditate, and my spirit faints.Selah

4 You keep my eyelids from closing; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. 5 I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago. 6 I commune[a] with my heart in the night; I meditate and search my spirit:[b] 7 “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? 8 Has his steadfast love ceased forever? Are his promises at an end for all time? 9 Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?”Selah 10 And I say, “It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.”

11 I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; I will remember your wonders of old. 12 I will meditate on all your work, and muse on your mighty deeds. 13 Your way, O God, is holy. What god is so great as our God? 14 You are the God who works wonders; you have displayed your might among the peoples. 15 With your strong arm you redeemed your people, the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.Selah

16 When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; the very deep trembled. 17 The clouds poured out water; the skies thundered; your arrows flashed on every side. 18 The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook. 19 Your way was through the sea, your path, through the mighty waters; yet your footprints were unseen. 20 You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Footnotes:

Psalm 77:6 Gk Syr: Heb My music

Psalm 77:6 Syr Jerome: Heb my spirit searches

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 79

Psalm 79

Plea for Mercy for Jerusalem

A Psalm of Asaph.

1 O God, the nations have come into your inheritance; they have defiled your holy temple; they have laid Jerusalem in ruins. 2 They have given the bodies of your servants to the birds of the air for food, the flesh of your faithful to the wild animals of the earth. 3 They have poured out their blood like water all around Jerusalem, and there was no one to bury them. 4 We have become a taunt to our neighbors, mocked and derided by those around us.

5 How long, O Lord? Will you be angry forever? Will your jealous wrath burn like fire? 6 Pour out your anger on the nations that do not know you, and on the kingdoms that do not call on your name. 7 For they have devoured Jacob and laid waste his habitation.

8 Do not remember against us the iniquities of our ancestors; let your compassion come speedily to meet us, for we are brought very low. 9 Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of your name; deliver us, and forgive our sins, for your name’s sake. 10 Why should the nations say, “Where is their God?” Let the avenging of the outpoured blood of your servants be known among the nations before our eyes.

11 Let the groans of the prisoners come before you; according to your great power preserve those doomed to die. 12 Return sevenfold into the bosom of our neighbors the taunts with which they taunted you, O Lord! 13 Then we your people, the flock of your pasture, will give thanks to you forever; from generation to generation we will recount your praise.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Esther 4:4-17

4 When Esther’s maids and her eunuchs came and told her, the queen was deeply distressed; she sent garments to clothe Mordecai, so that he might take off his sackcloth; but he would not accept them. 5 Then Esther called for Hathach, one of the king’s eunuchs, who had been appointed to attend her, and ordered him to go to Mordecai to learn what was happening and why. 6 Hathach went out to Mordecai in the open square of the city in front of the king’s gate, 7 and Mordecai told him all that had happened to him, and the exact sum of money that Haman had promised to pay into the king’s treasuries for the destruction of the Jews. 8 Mordecai also gave him a copy of the written decree issued in Susa for their destruction, that he might show it to Esther, explain it to her, and charge her to go to the king to make supplication to him and entreat him for her people.

9 Hathach went and told Esther what Mordecai had said. 10 Then Esther spoke to Hathach and gave him a message for Mordecai, saying, 11 “All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law—all alike are to be put to death. Only if the king holds out the golden scepter to someone, may that person live. I myself have not been called to come in to the king for thirty days.” 12 When they told Mordecai what Esther had said, 13 Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not think that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. 14 For if you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s family will perish. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.” 15 Then Esther said in reply to Mordecai, 16 “Go, gather all the Jews to be found in Susa, and hold a fast on my behalf, and neither eat nor drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will also fast as you do. After that I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.” 17 Mordecai then went away and did everything as Esther had ordered him.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Acts 18:1-11

Paul in Corinth

18 After this Paul[a] left Athens and went to Corinth. 2 There he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, who had recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had ordered all Jews to leave Rome. Paul[b] went to see them, 3 and, because he was of the same trade, he stayed with them, and they worked together—by trade they were tentmakers. 4 Every sabbath he would argue in the synagogue and would try to convince Jews and Greeks.

5 When Silas and Timothy arrived from Macedonia, Paul was occupied with proclaiming the word,[c] testifying to the Jews that the Messiah[d] was Jesus. 6 When they opposed and reviled him, in protest he shook the dust from his clothes[e] and said to them, “Your blood be on your own heads! I am innocent. From now on I will go to the Gentiles.” 7 Then he left the synagogue[f] and went to the house of a man named Titius[g] Justus, a worshiper of God; his house was next door to the synagogue. 8 Crispus, the official of the synagogue, became a believer in the Lord, together with all his household; and many of the Corinthians who heard Paul became believers and were baptized. 9 One night the Lord said to Paul in a vision, “Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; 10 for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you, for there are many in this city who are my people.” 11 He stayed there a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them.

Footnotes:

Acts 18:1 Gk he

Acts 18:2 Gk He

Acts 18:5 Gk with the word

Acts 18:5 Or the Christ

Acts 18:6 Gk reviled him, he shook out his clothes

Acts 18:7 Gk left there

Acts 18:7 Other ancient authorities read Titus

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Luke 1:1-4

Dedication to Theophilus

1 Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, 2 just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, 3 I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first,[a] to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, 4 so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.

Footnotes:

Luke 1:3 Or for a long time

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Luke 3:1-14

The Proclamation of John the Baptist

3 In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler[a] of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler[b] of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler[c] of Abilene, 2 during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. 3 He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, 4 as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. 5 Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6 and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

7 John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 9 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

10 And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” 11 In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” 12 Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” 13 He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” 14 Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”

Footnotes:

Luke 3:1 Gk tetrarch

Luke 3:1 Gk tetrarch

Luke 3:1 Gk tetrarch

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.