#baptizedbyfire

[myboyfriendfromhydra]

I really like this song, Juggernaut, by Baptized by Fire, and this video is a beautiful gem that deserves more attention. So please enjoy! Video by @noprincenorape

[davidwfloydart]

So far my dating experience on Christian Mingle has gone well. He’s even promising to baptize me 💦 #seeyouinhell #jesuschrist #christianmingle #baptizedbyfire #baptized #jesussaves #baptizedinjesusname #baptizedinchrist (at Catalina Foothills, Arizona) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSHS-HfLcbAA3IiGXCA70kFt6PtEpATsFrZW900/?utm_medium=tumblr

[omahacheeks-blog]

“God is within her, she will not fall.” #psalm46v5 #feedyoursoul #baptizedbyfire (at Planet Fitness) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0fyJ1EB0EA/?igshid=1aa7bb0vct7d4

[colpapabear]

@baptizedbyfires xxx

James wasn’t half as startled as he probably should have been by the words. After all, he wasn’t expecting any warm welcome or congratulations upon his return, especially after his final words to the man. Though the sickening sound of a fist making contact with his face before he’d even managed a greeting? That sent him stumbling a little before regaining any semblance of balance and setting his gaze on the older man.

“ Nice to see you too-” he spat with a far thicker tone than he’d wanted to, a hand cupping the blooming area of bruising across his cheek as he spoke.

Rob just glared at him, fist still clenched but only out of anger, not with any real intention to punch him a second time. 

“You know what you are?” growled, stepping closer to glare down at James. “A coward. A damn coward.” One of the worst insults he knew. “What are you trying to achieve, huh? Get yourself killed so you won’t have to deal with the consequences of your actions? Instead of facing them like a man?”

[undeadunalive]

@baptizedbyfires​ |  ✚

“These are... war injuries, are they not? Daresay, I could recognise them a mile away.”

[eternlle]

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁     :     @baptizedbyfires​‘s  james !!

❛  it bothers you. ❜          she remarks this casually   ---   an observation, not a question   ---  with the air of someone who isn’t bothered by much.     (  in the middle of the war, that’s a blatant lie, but during any other era, it would be true. )   leaves crunch under their feet as they walk   ;   she turns on her heels, continuing backwards, just to look at him.          ❛  why?  do you take . . .   some sort of personal offense?  ❜

[bytesnbolts]

↪  3

(( Image-based prompts ))

The sunset lit up Shamble’s mirror with a fiery, golden glare as he zipped along a narrow lane between sheep-dotted pastures.

Yorkshire gave the Autobot nostalgia for home, for Luna-1. It reminded him of Lunge and Voltbolt’s energon farms, shepherding his own sheepticron, and wandering eagerly over the quieter parts of the landscape with Lighttracer by headlight. The dales and earth beneath his tires could transform into those familiar slopes and powdered metal when his processor wandered in the rechargeless hours to reckless stunts and scattered off-the-paths races. If it wasn’t for the weight of his faux human, Shamble may have been inclined to try a few jumps or sprints of his own while out on patrols.

Yorkshire made Shamble wistful for simpler times, easier cycles, and more solid companionship. His unit (except for maybe Lighttracer) would have laughed at him for it probably, or maybe they were just as homesick and lonely at this point as he was.

Staying off the communications proved orn in and orn out a test of willpower. The Autobots did not have reliable information of the fragging Decepticon movements or presence on this planet, or the level of communication interference; it wasn’t safe to talk to one another. As such, more and more Autobots were called away to other planets and fronts over time, and the units had had to increase the distance between them bit by bit to make up for the deficit. There was only two units left now; Shamble’s unit (being the larger of the two) had been assigned to the landmasses that the locals called Eurasia, Africa, and Australia. It was a lot of ground to cover for only six Autobots; they did their best, but it was very much every bot for themselves on an orn to orn basis. 

The locals, also, did not make it easy, especially for Shamble. He had been tasked with soloing most of Europe, which the organics seemed intent on destroying with their own conflict. They did a number an ano-cycle back on his ‘dataghost army’ of bunkers, which had been sending up Autobot territory signals all over Europe to give the impression there was significantly more than just him driving around these parts; he was still setting up replacements. More than once, he stumbled on one of their stalemates by accident; it was probably startling for an ‘unmarked man’ to drive through the no mans’ lands with so little concern for bullets and shells. Plus, more than once, some upstart organic tried to bot-nap him when he was resting in one of their settlements. It was all generally a nuisance, but at least it broke up his patrols while he waited for Decepticons to show up or for his unit to finally be sent elsewhere.  By Primus, it felt like they had been here forever.

Earth was not all boredom and annoyances.

He loathed to admit it and would vehemently deny it if any of his unit ever asked him (except for if it was Lighttracer asking), but he kind of liked the organics, despite the trouble they caused around him.

They built interesting inventions that tickled his processor. His servos were a bit big for fiddling with their delicate machines, but he tried to understand them anyways. He reversed engineered a couple in his free time, trying to make them more Cybertronian directed.

They admired and complimented him. Shamble figured it was because he was handsomer than any of their two-wheelers with his sleeker chassis, stronger engine, and more interesting paintjob; far handsomer than even their prized “Trusties”.

They lived interesting lives, not that far removed from what he had experienced as a courier in Iacon. They did their honest day’s work, met up with friends, or indulged in hobbies, sports or just being still. Since his language patch, Shamble could listen to them chat while they sipped at their receptacles (which did not contain energon, he had learned) and he rested on his kick-stand nearby. On the rare occasion, once he’d figured out humans didn’t respond well to talking motorbikes and how to give his faux human free movement with a range of distance it could move away from him, he’d tried sitting and talking to some of them, and it helped ease the heaviness in his spark a little.

They drove and raced with him from time to time, throwing up dust in their wake and hollering. It was wonderful in the moment, but left him feeling colder once the moment moved on and responsibility settled back in.

No Decepticons sighted so far; it seemed it would be a quiet evening.

The Autobot slowed to a gentle cruising speed, enjoying the pastures and imagining herding the sheep when he noticed something ahead off to side of the road.

As Shamble drew nearer and stopped, by the beam of his headlight, the motorbike could make out a human resting against a stone in the grass as the evening drew in and the stars came out. While it wasn’t strange to find humans recharging in odd places (Shamble swore they were just as happy in a hole in the ground or leaned up against a wall as on a berth), it was odd to find one dressed in this way, alone, and out in the pasturelands like this.

“Alive and kick’en, young fella?”

[therapardalis]

[ @baptizedbyfires​​ from here.]

“ Oh , no need to apologise Ma'am. Just about anything can make me jump as it is , even when I’m not away in a world of my own.” James smiled, far more genuine and cheerful now that he was certain there was no danger. Straightening his posture and turning his attention fully to the woman instead of his usual busy work with a slight awkwardness.

“ You’ll have to thank my mother for that bit , she’s the one that taught me when I was still a young lad. I suppose old habits are hard to break , even so far away from anything remotely close to ‘home’.”

And far it was , nothing like the rolling hills or open skies that he had once enjoyed.

“I’m just fine as I am. Might I ask the same? I’m not one for waiting around if there’s anything I can help with.”

There’s too much of that, Thera thought, even as she held the easy smile. Too many young men who jump at the smallest sound, have jagged edges in the depths of their eyes. War had changed, at least as much as it had now changed them.

“My thanks to your mum indeed, then.” She almost went on to add, ‘when you see her next’, but kept it under her tongue; she knew full well it would be a platitude, and patronising to boot. “Ironically enough, waiting around is exactly what I’m doing.” Or at least it was the thing that had brought her this way and close enough to hear him singing.

“Therese Landsend, by the way.” She put out her hand to shake, “Veterinary Corps. We’ve got a delivery coming in soon, so if you’re keen you could help carry?”

[ageofxail]

🎵

Hoist Up the Thing, by The Longest Johns

Everyone needs a good laugh occasionally! Noel very much enjoys this song about an uneducated novice seaman being an absolute disaster at directing a ship.

Hoist up the thing! Batten down the whatsit! What's that thing spinning? Somebody should stop it! Turn hard to port! (That’s not port! This is Sherry!) Now I've got it! Trust me, I'm in control!

[nobodyescapess]

@baptizedbyfires

“Nicht schießen!” Wilhelm stared up at the Englishman with wide eyes. His own gun lay just out of reach. He probably should have kept that close but he had been tired and sat down to rest, not thinking he might be interrupted. 

At least he was still alive. His co-pilot hadn’t been so lucky.

Not that lucky was a term often connected with Wilhelm. He hadn’t felt particularly lucky as he had made his way across muddy fields, leaving his downed plane behind to try and find some semblance of civilization. Ideally German. He wasn’t altogether sure where he had ended up but for an Englishman to show up wasn’t a good sign. 

“Nicht schießen!” He raked his brains for what English he had learned at school. “Don’t shoot! Please.”

[desanctii]

@baptizedbyfires​ said: ❝ sorry about all that mud. and all that fucking blood.❞

“Yes?” Santino didn’t look up from the gaping wound in the corporal’s calf. The barbed wire had wrapped around the leg, eaten its way into the flesh. The mud had caked around it so there was no telling how deep the filth ran, but it was deep enough, no doubt. Santino tore some more of the pant leg to expose the rest of the limb.

“And I’m sorry for the cold hands.” He said as he wiped the mud off. His fingers ran red. The smell was all but overpowering. Santino’s mouth watered. “Now distract yourself. Think of home if you still have one. A girl perhaps? Are you married?” Santino spoke at a steady pace that did not match the hurried deft motions of his hands. “Lie back down. I’ll pull the wire out. You don’t want to see that.”

[alreadybrcken]

{ ♛ x @baptizedbyfires​ x}

Continued from here

Tommy and his brothers had been at the front for a couple of weeks now, and while the trenches had been difficult to get used to it hadn’t been all that bad. Their motivation and spirits had still been high, the wish to destroy the enemy strong. There were still jokes and laughter, along with drinking and smoking as if they were on nothing more than a dangerous holiday.

Today, however, things had gotten real and serious. They had been sent over the top for the very first time, bringing home the reality of what war was truly like. As Tommy watched men - boys - fall and die all around him, he felt as if his world came crashing down around him.

Still, he was one of the lucky ones. He’d made it to the enemy trenches alive, and had survived the battle there, too. Many others had not. Others he’d known from Small Heath and Birmingham, and others he had met here. People he’d considered his friends, and comrades. His brothers were nowhere to be found, either, and there was a dread inside of him that he might have lost them, too. 

With his back against the mud of the trench he now found himself in, Tommy had spoken to no one in particular, had just muttered words that had come to mind, and would no longer be kept silent. But he got an answer nonetheless, and answer that pulled him out of his stupor and made him look at the other beside him. It wasn’t a face he recognized, but it seemed he was surrounded only by faces he didn’t know. Hardly a comfort, but at least they wore the same uniform as him. 

“They sent us to our death.” A statement made in a monotonous voice with no emotion behind it. His eyes, too, seemed to void of emotions. “They dropped like flies around us. Boys I grew up with. Whom I’ve known for all my life. All gone, just like that.” Averting his gaze again, Tommy instead stared at the brown wall opposite of him. “Hope seems a difficult thing to keep now.” Another pause. “They’re going to happen again, isn’t it?”

[colpapabear]

"The way you're concentrating it looks like you're painting a masterpiece, not your nails."  @baptizedbyfires

“ That’s because each tiny stroke might as well be a masterpiece. I’m the one who has to walk around with them on my hands for the next week or so , need to make sure they are perfect.” He mumbled, tongue peaking at the side of his mouth as his entire focus centered back on his left hand.

“ I went for autumnal colours for once-”.

Rob craned his neck a little to get a peek at today’s colour choice. “I like the red,” he commented with a nod to a bottle of bright crimson before he went back to scrolling on his phone. Only for a moment, though, before he looked back up to watch James with a faint smile, endeared by how much he seemed to be concentrating on his work. 

“Does this mean you can’t touch anything for the next hour again?” he teased, “Seems like a lotta hassle just for some paint on your nails. And then you gotta take it off again, and you complain when it chips. Isn’t it easier to just leave them plain?” It wasn’t criticism, just interested conversation.

[undeadunalive]

James is 5'8 😅

send me your muses height and i’ll use this website to get an image of what they’d look like standing next to each other.

( Jonathan, 6′5 ) ( James, 5′8 ) @baptizedbyfires​

[eternlle]

                        @baptizedbyfires​  asked :      ‘  you’ve got a warm heart.  ’

warm   ---   yes, there’s a concept she likes.    somehow it seems foreign nowadays, as if the very idea of warmth is growing more distant by the day.    too many frozen battlefields   ;   too many ice - cold bodies.     ( evelyn still remembers what it was like to freeze, the life slowly seeping out of you with every frosted breath.    warmth, in any form, is something she covets. )      instead of replying, she just looks up from the bedsheets she’s changing, offering the soldier a close - lipped smile.

❛  if that surprises you,  i do worry about the caliber of nurses you’ve run into before. ❜          maybe not everyone is in this war for the right reasons   ( if there is any right reason for total annihilation )    or can cope with the stress brought on by day after day of gory labor.     even evelyn sometimes feels close to breaking, and older than she ever has before.     pausing to brace her elbows against the metal bedframe, she studies the soldier.           ❛  i wouldn’t call it warmth, really.   helping people . . .   isn’t something to be commended.   it’s what we have to do.  ❜

[bertievi]

📸

Send 📸 to see my muse’s favourite photo of yours

He just wants to see James happy okay? XD