#blameless before the Lord

[yeslordmyking]

Nehemiah 12:30 — Today's Verse for Monday, December 30, 2024

[wiirocku]

Genesis 17:1 (NKJV) - When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am Almighty God; walk before Me and be blameless.

[seasaltdevotion]

King Poseidon appreciation post!

I feel He is often very under appreciated, misunderstood (thanks myth literalism 😒) and just… not talked about enough. So it’s my job, legally, to yap about Him.

Epithets

Poseidon Asphalios - Secures Safe Voyage

Poseidon Basileus - King/Lord

Poseidon Domatites - Of the House

Poseidon Epoptes - Overseer/Watcher

Poseidon Gaieochos - Holder of the Earth | Poseidon Ennosigaios - Shaker of the Earth

Poseidon Genesios - The Father | Poseidon Genethlios - Of Kin/Kindered

Poseidon Hippios - Of the Horses | Poseidon Hippokourios - Horse Tender

Poseidon Laoites- Of the People

Poseidon Patrus - Ancestral Father

Poseidon Pelagaios - Of the Sea/Marine

Poseidon Phytalmios - Plant Nurturer

Poseidon Prosclystius - Who Dashes Against

General Information

Most people know Poseidon as the god of the ocean, but of course when looking at his epithets, he is the god of fathers/fatherhood, of the house, horses, earthquakes, and even the nurturing of plants.

His Family

He is married to Amphitrite, Queen of the Oceans. They have a son together Triton.

He is also known to be the father of Aeolus, of the winds, Despoena goddess of specific Arkadian Mysteries, and Proteus, an elderly god seal herder.

Some other offspring of note include: Charybdis the giantess whirlpool who is mothered by Gaia, Polyphemus the cyclops born of Sea Nymph Thoosa, and Thesus an Athenian hero born of Aithra.

His Symbols/Attributes

Obviously, the trident is His main symbol.

His sacred animals consisted of bulls, horses, and dolphins. Being the god of the ocean other sea creatures were also used in reference to Him.

Plants related to Him are pine trees and wild celery!

Homeric Hymn to Poseidon - Hymn 22

“I begin to sing about Poseidon, the great good, mover of the earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of Helkion, and wide Aegae. O Shaker of the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and savior of ships! Hail Poseidon Holder of the Earth, dark-haired lord! O blessed one, be kindly in heart and help those who voyage in ships!”

Orphic Hymn to Poseidon - Hymn 17

"Hear, Poseidon, ruler of the sea profound, whose liquid grasp begirds the solid ground; who, at the bottom of the stormy main, dark and deep-bosomed holdest they watery reign. Thy awful hand the brazen trident bears, and sea's utmost bound thy will reveres. Thee I invoke, whose steeds the foam divide, from whose dark locks the briny waters glide; shoe voice, loud sounding through the roaring deep, drives all its billows in a raging heap; when fiercely riding through the boiling sea, thy hoarse command the trembling waves obey. Earth-shaking, dark-haired God, the liquid plains, the third division, fate to thee ordains. 'Tis thine, cerulean daimon, to survey, well-pleased, the monsters of the ocean play. Confirm earth's basis, and with prosperous gales waft ships along, and swell the spacious sails; add gentle peace, and fair-haired health beside, and pour abundance in a blameless tide."

Poseidon & Myths

I’m someone who is big on how terrible Myth Literalism is. Poseidon is not his myths. No god is their myths.

Myths are stories that teach lessons, nothing more. He is not some terrible god or mean man. So imma get into my experience with Him!

Poseidon to Me

Poseidon has a very fatherly energy to Him, and I attribute that to His fatherly epithets as well as His many children.

At times His presence is very soft and gentle. Like a tender pat on the back for a job well done. A warm laugh of an enthused fatherly figure. Other times it can almost be suffocating. A tight chest pressure and weight on your shoulders, the gaze of a disappointed father.

However, He always means well.

Why pray to Poseidon?

Poseidon came to me while I was researching epithets, actually looking to see if there were any fatherly epithets. I was in the middle of combing through King Zeus’s epithets before I my brain focused on Poseidon. Writing Zeus’s list, all I could think about was checking Poseidon’s even though I wasn’t finished with my previous one. So I checked. Surprise surprise.

Since then I have consistently prayed to Him for things you’d ask a father for. Advice, comfort, just… His presence. All of which He provides. I live inland so I don’t see the ocean, but I spend plenty of time playing in rivers or lakes occasionally. I thank Him and King Zeus for the rain. I love horses, so I research them and learn about them. I thank Him purely for their beauty and existence.

Even if their domain doesn’t fully involve you, you can still worship a god. And it’s still so gratifying.

Ty for coming to my Poseidon Ted-talk. I just adore Him a lot and decided He needed a post on my page solely dedicated to teaching people about Him.

[heavenlymorals]

Biblical References in Both RDR games.

I love biblical references so much. When it comes to literature, it's probably my favorite type of symbolism. Like I genuinely get so happy when I connect things to the Bible which is what I'm going to do right now 😊😊 I also like the way that religion is incorporated into RDR as a whole, including the main characters' reaction to it.

So yup, here are just a few references or connections that I was able to make in no particular order.

Also, some of these are complete reaches and I'm aware of that, but fuck it, it's my blog and I do what I want 💪🏼

- The character and tragedy of Issac. In the Bible, Issac is the child of Abraham who is asked to be sacrificed by God by his father as a test of faith. God eventually intervenes to save Issac because he only wanted to test Abraham's faith. Dutch is shown as a God-like figure to the gang, as their devotion is to him. Arthur, indirectly, sacrifices Issac by not being there and by following what Dutch wanted. Arthur, Issac, and Dutch are parallels to Abraham, Issac, and God.

- Leviticus is the book that comes after the book of Exodus. After the gang's escape or exodus from Blackwater after the Blackwater massacre, they are met by Leviticus Cornwall, who becomes the next obstacle for the gang. After the gang's exodus, they get in trouble with Leviticus.

- The image of the deer and a mountain. Psalm 18:32-34 in the Bible says, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way blameless? He makes my feet like deers' feet, and sets me upon my high places." In Arthur's condemnation of Dutch, Micah, and their evil, he becomes steady in his identity and beliefs, like a deer's feet on a mountain, which is where he dies in the end. W symbolism.

- The mission "Sodom? Back to Gomorrah." In the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities that were so morally depraved and evil that God decided to destroy the both of them, saying that if there was even one good person in those cities, he'd spare them, but there weren't. In those missions, you also do two evil acts, going from one and then BACK to the other. You rob the bank and then go BACK to collect the debt from Edith Downes. So you finish one evil deed and to straight to the next. This can also show how morally bankrupt Arthur's apathy made him at this point in the game.

- Micah's guns say "Vengeance is hereby mine." This could be a reference to Roman's 12:19 "vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." Micah's violent nature makes him take his anger out on the world.

- "Your father is seduced by him with the forked tongue. It's no use hoping." The blind prophet to Arthur. Pretty straight forward symbolism, it's a nod to the snake that seduced Eve, just like how Micah manipulates Dutch.

- Dutch walking away from Arthur when he dies and though he realizes his wrong doing and feels shame, his pride forbids him from apologizing or saying he was wrong. This can be a parallel to how Adam and Eve run away from God when they feel shame over believing in the snake, but their pride won't allow them to apologize to God, hence damning them like how Micah damned Dutch.

- There were twelve ACTIVE gang members before the Blackwater massacre. When I mean active, I mean gang members who are canonically consistent (so not uncle, Swanson, Strauss, or the girls) on going on jobs for the gang. Micah, Bill, Javier, John, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Sean, Lenny, Josiah, Mac and Davey Callender. Christ had 12 disciples and Dutch is portrayed as a savior to the gang, or a Christ like figure. And would you look at that, there is a traitor in both groups of twelve (Micah and Judas).

- Both John and Arthur's graves have scripture from Jesus's sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5:1-12). John's is blessed are the peacemakers and Arthur's is blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

- The go back for the money ending. If you go back for the money and have low honor, you'll see that the camp is engulfed in flames as you try to get the money. The fight with Micah is brutal and you die faced down in the dark. This death is an allegory for going to either hell and purgatory as you choose a final evil act of leaving your brother to possibly die just so you can get money as an act of revenge. If you have high honor, you are still surrounded by flames, but you still have a chance at heaven given that you die facing up seeing the light one final time.

- The help John ending has similar connotations. If you have low honor, you die by gunshot and are shrouded in darkness, which can symbolize the absence of God's light and how Arthur's final act couldn't absolve the lack of guilt he feels for the rest of the actions that he KNOWS are evil (click here for a my interpretation of Arthur's morality). In high honor, though, you get to crawl to the mountain side and see the rising sun, symbolizing heaven, warmth, and a new purity.

- In low honor, the coyote goes down to a dark cave, representing damnation and the rejection of holy light. In high honor, the deer steps into a heavenly field of light. Love that so much to be honest.

- Just the very Catholic vibe of Arthur's redemption. Doing good deeds, feeling guilt, all that.

- John's new life is basically this: "Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need." -Ephesians 4:28. John gives up his old life to be an honest laborer, a rancher, and a proper man.

- The Strange Man in RDR rides on a donkey, which is pretty interesting because Jesus Christ also made his grand entry on a donkey.

- Just the Strange Man in general to be honest. Some say he's God, others say he's the Devil, and others say he's Cain from the Bible, which is my personal favorite theory but whatever.

- Dutch's horse could be a reference to Revelations 6:8- "And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." Dutch's rash actions caused the death of the gang and RDR's incarnate of Hades or Hell was Micah, following him. Dutch is the only one, canonically, to have a pale horse.

- "Am I prepared for eternal damnation? Am I passed any kind of saving? Or is that just fairy tales?" Arthur in his journal. I love this line so much because of its very agnostic nature whilst still showing the Christian mindset of 1899 America. This line also shows that Arthur is canonically agnostic which is a yippee from me because it's like the only thing me and this man have in common lmao 😭

- "Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise.." Blind Man Cassidy to Arthur. Sorry but I just love that. High honor Arthur lived such an awful life but he still has a chance at paradise and heaven? Love that so much.

- God (pun intended), I love biblical symbolism. Couldn't you tell?

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C���mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

[princessbrunette]

what if the reader is out with her friends at night and she checks the time and is like rafes gonna be mad at me and her friends are like why are u so worried it’s not like he’s ur dad and the readers like they are so right but rafe finds her and drags her home and teaches her a lesson

⊹ ࣪ ˖

he never really liked your friends. the stuck up kind of kook bitches that think they’re better than everyone. they weren’t like you, he thought — you were sweet, different. it’s why he hated when they went out with you, always getting you into trouble, corrupting his sweet and blameless girl. it seemed harsh, but that’s why he enforced such a strict curfew. lord knows you needed it, you didn’t have any guiding figure of authority in your life, and where rafe see’s gaps, he always has to step up.

that’s why he knew your friends were to blame as soon as you yapped out the words “m’not coming back right now, you’re not my dad!” over the phone before hanging up on him like a coward. he pushed his tongue into his cheek, hearing the beep signifying the end of the call. okay, then.

he scoffs on the drive over there, thinking about the way you said it. you really thought he wouldn’t be able to hear the overexcited whispers of your friends in the background leading you astray, or the nervous tremor in your voice as you squeak out the insult, hitting the end call button as quickly as humanely possibly all so that you wouldn’t have to face his backlash. that wasn’t his angel, no. that was the work of the devil, and you were not to be seen hanging out with them any more, not if he had anything to do with it.

he approaches calmly, with authority— relishing in the way your face drops when you see him walk into the bar and toward your table. your friends notice your change in behaviour first, eyeing the way you jump off your bar stool and immediately pick up your bag, getting ready to go.

he has that malicious smirk when he steps up to the table, practically a wall as you try and push at his tummy, leading him away before he says anything. “evening ladies.” he ignores you, eyes travelling round the table.

“sup, rafe.” one of them boredly twirls her straw, knowing he’s literally a psycho.

“you know, i think it’s best you all stay the hell away from my girl from now on. yeah? ‘cos— ‘cos i think it’s in everyone’s best interest and…” he leans his hands on the table, glancing around. “you wouldn’t want any trouble for your friend now, right?” he reaches out and places a hand on your arm without looking at you. your friends shake their head and he nods in satisfaction.

“good to see you, girls. we’re leavin’.”

he doesn’t let you say goodbye, doesn’t let you say a thing — just leads you calmly out the bar with a forceful hand at the small of your back, walking you all the way to the car. your heart was thumping, wondering what kind of trouble you’d be in.

the drive was silent until he broke the quiet with a laugh and the shake of his head, something that could never be good in rafes book.

“you know i— i- i bust my ass working n’making money for you to have at your disposal. take you shoppin’, nice food, let you run around with your friends… its just really not fair when you talk to me like that baby. do you think i’m some kinda bitch who lets my girl talk to me however she wants? no, look at me— do you think i’m a bitch?”

you look at him with wide teary eyes and shake your head. “n—no, rafe, you’re not a—”

“‘you’re not my dad’” he quotes, laughing once more as he pulls up into the driveway, parking the car and wiping his hands down his face. “y’know maybe i should start actin’ like it seein’ as you wanna run off n’misbehave the way you do. yeah? yeah i think that’s what i’ll do.” he gets out the car and storms around to your side, yanking your door open. “i think you’re gonna have to start callin’ me dad from now on.” he presses your seatbelt button and yanks you out the car by the arm making you yelp, practically losing your footing as he drags you to the house.

there’s no one home, unsurprisingly— so he takes you straight to the living room, pushing you down on the couch. you fall onto it face first, scrambling to sit up but he pushes you back down to lay on your tummy— keeping a warning hand on your back for a moment, bunching your skirt up above your ass before removing it, aggressively working his belt off.

“rafe!” you cry, wiggling on the couch.

“ah— s’not what you’re calling me anymore now, is it?”

“dad.” you whine shamefully, grabbing a couch cushion to press your cheek into.

“better.” he approaches, kneeling down beside you on the couch for a moment, belt folded in his hands. “do you feel better after talkin’ to me like that, baby? lettin’ your friends boss you around?”

you sniffle, shaking your head and flinching each time he moves even slightly. “no! i’m sorry!”

“yeah… yeah.” he scratches his cheek. “a little late for sorry, huh? who’s allowed to boss you around baby, tell me.”

“you dad.”

“mhm… s’damn right.” he stands to his full height before bringing his belt down on your ass.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

[thewordfortheday]

1 Corinthians 3:11

For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.

The world around us is full of uncertainty. We all saw the destruction and devastation brought about by the pandemic. Even today we hear of wars and rumours of war. People are fearful and apprehensive.

We as followers of Jesus, know that these are bound to happen. Jesus has already warned us. We don't put our faith, trust and confidence in the things of the world, but in the Lord Jesus Christ. We stand firm on the promises of God. As Hebrews 10:23 urges, “Let us, hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful."

Jesus said in Matthew 24:13, “But the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.”

Maybe, today, you feel shaky because of the circumstances that are threatening to drown you. Remember, nothing can overpower you because you are standing on the Rock Jesus Christ and His promises. He will keep you strong to the end and present you blameless before the Father.

[cinnamonsikwate]

i'm really curious about what marcille's mother's deal is. seems like she's not too big on the rest of elven society. here's what we know about her so far:

mage at a human royal court (adventurer's bible)

courtship with marcille's father donato lasted 17 years (adventurer's bible)

specialty is roast pork, which was also donato's favorite (chapter 81)

had a cheerful personality up until the point donato got too sick to eat his favorite food. her extreme emotional reaction to this left a lasting impression on marcille (chapter 81)

remarried to a gnome and moved away from the city at some point after donato died (adventurer's bible)

several portraits of her appear in marcille's nightmare (chapter 42); this is the second time we see marcille dream of her (chapter 3)

preferred non-elven food and didn't introduce marcille to any traditional elven dishes (chapter 74)

from the canaries' reactions in chapter 74, it appears elven society looks down on elves who go to live among and work for short-lived races. they seemed especially put off that she would have a mixed-blood child. when they're talking about the lyrikmumare to get marcille to trip up, marcille envisions her mother saying that the food "here" (i.e., the northern continent) tastes so much better. so the picture we're getting here is of an elf who has removed herself from elven culture, but the question is, did she do it willingly or was she forced to?

keeping her other actions in mind, i'm leaning more towards the former. the most intriguing thing for me is that she eventually married a gnome, despite elves and gnomes having infamously waged war against each other over differences in the practice of magic and presently tending to discriminate against the other on sight. (one thing's for sure — marcille's mother is winning the idgaf war!)

marcille never talks about her gnome stepfather though, and it's unclear what she thinks of her mother's remarriage. the timing of the remarriage is also a mystery. donato married marcille's mother when he was 32 (after having courted her for 17 years) and died at 82, meaning they were married for 50 years. marcille is also currently 50 years old, but we know she wasn't born immediately after the marriage: in chapter 81, donato's doppelganger says marcille was born when he'd started "getting on in years." based on marcille's memories of him and the established fact that the average tall-man lifespan is 60 years, i'd hazard that he was in his 50s then. this gives him 30 years or less with marcille — definitely less than 35, which we know is the age at which she left for the magic academy.

we don't know if marcille's mother remarries before or after marcille leaves (if before, than that's definitely a shockingly short time), but it's interesting that she chose to marry someone from a long-lived race this time. maybe this is her way of ensuring she spares herself another heartbreak? or maybe she *is* still heartbroken and is trying to cover it up.

but. i can't help but kind of agree with chilchuck in chapter 81, that marcille's parents are not blameless for marcille becoming the dungeon lord. since it's apparently well-documented, they surely must have known — as well-educated people — that mixed-blood children face not just discrimination but also mental anguish that comes with their unstable aging (not to mention the sterility). so the way they raised marcille feels frankly irresponsible 😭

anyway. i'd love to get spin-off content where post-adventure marcille and her mother meet again. i feel like there's a lot of unresolved issues there (that can of course be hashed out over a good meal).

[claireverlasting]

Ah yes there it is, the chapter where most of the les amis died hugo misquoted the iliad. Buckle up people, this is long.

So! This is the paragraph in les mis (hapgood):

Homer says: “Diomedes cuts the throat of Axylus, son of Teuthranis, who dwelt in happy Arisba; Euryalus, son of Mecistæus, exterminates Dresos and Opheltios, Esepius, and that Pedasus whom the naiad Abarbarea bore to the blameless Bucolion; Ulysses overthrows Pidytes of Percosius; Antilochus, Ablerus; Polypætes, Astyalus; Polydamas, Otos, of Cyllene; and Teucer, Aretaon. Meganthios dies under the blows of Euripylus’ pike. Agamemnon, king of the heroes, flings to earth Elatos, born in the rocky city which is laved by the sounding river Satnoïs.”

And this is the one in book 6 of the Iliad (Peter Green translation, line 12 to 36)

Diomēdēs, good at the war cry, now slew Axylos,

Teuthras’s son, whose home was in well-built Arisbē:

a person of wealth and substance, hospitable too,

for his house stood on the high road, was open to everyone.

Yet of these not one was there to save him from wretched death,

by facing the foe before him: Diomēdēs cut off both

him and his henchman Kalēsias, at that time

his charioteer; together they entered the underworld.

Euryalos slaughtered Drēsos and Opheltios, then went

after Aisēpos and Pēdasos, whom on a time a nymph,

a naiad, Abarbarea, bore to blameless Boukoliōn.

Boukoliōn was the offspring of noble Laomedōn,

his first-born, though his mother bore him in secrecy.

Tending his flocks he was when he lay with the nymph,

who conceived and delivered twin sons. It was of these

that Mēkisteus’s son undid the power and the resplendent

limbs, and stripped off the armor from their shoulders.

Astyalos fell to the staunch fighter Polypoitēs; Odysseus it was finished off Pidytēs of Perkōtē

with his bronze spear, while Teukros killed noble Aretaōn.

Antilochos, Nestōr’s son, with his shining spear laid low

Ablēros; Agamemnōn, lord of men, slew Elatos

who dwelt in steep Pēdasos by the banks of wide-flowing

Satnioeis. The hero Lēïtos caught Phylakos

as he fled him; Eurypylos slaughtered Melanthios.

Descriptions got deleted (fairs), some orders got switched (why), literally can’t find a Meganthios aside in les mis so pretty sure Meganthios/Melanthios was a typo on hugo’s part (sigh), Lēïtos got deleted (sorry dude), and wow wait what was that?

Polydamas, Otos, of Cyllene;

…what.

Long story short, the original part was a description on the Achaeans’ side, and Polydamas—you’ll see him later in the Iliad as the guy who tried to stop Hector’s attack on the ships because of a bird sign—was a Trojan, and very, very much shouldn’t be here.

Funny enough, Hugo used another part of the Iliad later, and would you look at that:

…or, like Phyles, father of Polydamas, to have brought back from Ephyra a good suit of mail, a present from the king of men, Euphetes;

The one in the Iliad (book 15, line 520 to 534):

Megēs, on seeing this, sprang at Poulydamas, who

ducked away from the blow. Megēs missed him—Apollo would not

let Pánthoös’s son be vanquished among the front-line fighters—

but instead hit Khroismos full in the chest with his spear.

He fell with a thud: Megēs started stripping the gear

from his shoulders, but Dolops, a highly skilled spearman, attacked him,

Lampos’s most warlike son, and Laomedōn’s grandson,

a man well acquainted with fighting valor, who now

thrust his spear squarely into the shield of Phyleus’s son,

coming at him from close quarters. But the thick and plated

corselet he wore protected him, that Phyleus long ago

brought back out of Ephyrē, by the Sellēïs river,

a gift from a guest-friend—Euphētēs, lord of men—

to wear in battle, a defense against enemies: this

was what now kept destruction from the flesh of his son.

Wrong kid! Phyleus/Phyles’ son was Megēs, not Polydamas. Another interesting thing happened a little earlier of this part (book 15, line 518 to 519):

…while Poulydamas killed a Kyllēnian, Ōtos, the comrade

of Phyleus’s son, the great-hearted Epeians’ leader.

Well now we know where that weird little kill count came from earlier.

Anyway, maybe Hugo just wanted to reference the fancy armor later so he pull Polydamas forward (not even his armor tho), maybe he messed up his notes, we will never know. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[walkswithmyfather]

Ephesians 1:1-8 (NASB). [1] “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, To the saints who are at Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus: [2] Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. [3] Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, [4] just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love [5] He predestined us to adoption as sons and daughters through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will, [6] to the praise of the glory of His grace, with which He favored us in the Beloved. [7] In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our wrongdoings, according to the riches of His grace [8] which He lavished on us. In all wisdom and insight.”

“The Riches of God’s Grace” By In Touch Ministrie:

“Because of Christ, we can receive God's choicest gifts.”

“What would it take for you to consider yourself rich? A large bank account? A fancy car in the garage? You may not be so bold as to answer “yes,” but does your life reflect this attitude? Sadly, many believers are overtaken by the world’s standard of riches and define wealth by how much they possess.

This happens whether one is wealthy or not. For the well-off, the temptation is to see money as the defining characteristic of their life; for the poor, money becomes the be-all-end-all goal of comfort and satisfaction. Greed plagues rich and poor alike.

What many believers fail to realize is that in Christ, we are all rich. Sure, you may have bills to pay, but if you have placed your faith in Jesus, you can boldly acknowledge that God has already poured His richest blessings upon you (Ephesians 2:4-7).

Today’s passage says that God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing (v. 3). Did you notice the tense of the verb there? The past tense—“has blessed”—is used, meaning it’s already happened. And He does not give just a little bit here and there; rather, He lavishly pours out His blessings on us.

Look beyond your finances and prayerfully list as many of your blessings as you can. Tomorrow, we will take a closer look at some of God’s choicest gifts.”

[yeslordmyking]

He has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight,... [ Read devo thought and prayer for this Bible verse ]

[leupagus]

I should retitle this series "old men wanting to go take a nap but they gotta help their queens to take over the world."

From this thing that I'm still writing and in fact has taken over my life

Barristan had seen a great many battles in his day, horrible things that bore no resemblance to the tales of the nursery or the songs of the tavern. He'd attended tourneys, too, so many that they blurred together (save for Harrenhal — that would always burn). And as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard here in Essos, he had observed far too many of the fighting pits.

But never before had he heard this chaotic ocean of sound. "Is it always this noisy?" Queen Daenerys shouted, over the approving roar of the crowds.

"No," Tyrion replied cheerfully, "but I'm working on that."

They were in the stands at the Arena, watching the procession of the teams that would play for the city's amusement today. A dozen banners snapped and fluttered in the wind, and the riders from every team did their utmost to encourage the cheers of their followers. In Meereen as in Westeros, the great and mighty cheered as lustily as the smallfolk, and the result was a noise that seemed to swallow up the whole of the city.

Over the past year, the game of soroh-fre had become the main event of the city, their riders' popularity supplanting even that of the pit fighters — and indeed, many of the riders were themselves former denizens of the Pits, their swords and spears replaced with the elongated mallet used to strike the ball from one end of the arena to the other. True, sometimes those mallets were used on their opponents instead, but from what Barristan had read in the city's Papers of the Day, deaths were down to just one every few games. A far cry from the dozens of dead at the end of each pit fight. By midday there were still only a handful of broken limbs.

"Didn't you tell me once that all men share a taste for blood?" said Hizdahr zo Loraq to the queen at some point, shaking his head as a rider's horse was gently lead out of the arena following its rider's injury — a concussion, it seemed. The crowd cheered all the more lustily for him, and he lifted his fist in salute as he staggered out.

The queen smiled. "True," she said, "but we are not all men." Beside her, Missandei laughed. "The Dothraki version is even tamer than this — anyone who injures his brother-rider, even by mistake, during a game of Soroh-Fe is stricken from the games for a year and a day. It's intended to perfect a rider's balance while on horseback; in fact, they play it while standing on the saddle."

"Good gods," Tyrion muttered.

Barristan had no love in his heart for any Lannister, save perhaps little Myrcella and Tommen, who had laughed and grabbed at his white cloak as he'd passed them by, their wide blue eyes as bright as blameless as little Viserys's and Aegon's and Rhaenys's had once been. He'd held special hatred for Lord Tywin, of course; the architect of so many misfortunes suffered by the Targaryens over the years, after spending his youth as a bosom friend to King Aerys and Steffon Baratheon. The three of them had been inseparable for a time — yet how had Tywin repaid him? With a traitor son who slit his own king's throat, no doubt on the orders of his father. And then Jaime's betrayal of his Kingsguard oath had been rewarded, by Robert's marriage to Cersei, who'd betrayed the new king in her turn. Tyrion had given no specific offense in his years at the Red Keep, but Barristan had watched him closely all the same, sure of some treachery festering behind that great brow and sardonic smile. The Lannisters were a family of shadowcats, not lions.

He had watched Tyrion still more closely here in Meereenl but Tyrion had shown himself capable as well as cunning, with an earnestness that Barristan had never seen in him during their shared time at the Red Keep. If Tyrion was another spy like Jorah, Barristan could find little evidence of it; certainly less than that smooth round bastard Varys. Barristan still did not trust Tyrion, but he could admit this much at least: the dwarf knew how to put on a good show.

[hiswordsarekisses]

SPIRITUAL WARFARE PRAYER.

HEAVENLY FATHER!!

I come to you now by faith and I put on your belt of truth this day and I reject any thought or suggestion or pretension that does not line up with your truth regardless of what my feelings or senses tell me, and I bind my will and desire to your will and desire for my life Lord Jesus. I cover my heart with your breast plate of righteousness, I ask that you Holy Spirit now guard my heart, mind and will, my emotions, guard me from impurity and temptation in order that I might live up to the righteousness that you have provided for me. I now set my heart and mind on what is true and good and pure and bind my heart to your heart Lord Jesus. I put on the sandals of the gospel of peace, so I can walk the sure step keeping in step with you Holy Spirit and not being tripped up by the enemy, and I pray that I will display your peace where ever I go. I bind my feet to the path of righteousness help me to not focus on the path, but on you Lord Jesus. I take up the shield of faith taking up my stand against the enemy and I claim your promise to give me the strength I need to repel the incoming flaming missiles of my adversary. Lord Jesus, you are the author and finisher of my faith and I trust you to meet all my needs and I bind myself to the finished work of the cross, I take my stand under the authority of your life lord Jesus, the sinless life you live before me, the sacrifice of your life on Calvary Cross for me, the resurrection of your life delivering me and the ascension of your life now leading me.

I place on my head the helmet of salvation, which is the confidence of my deliverance, thank you Lord for this piece of armor, which protects my mind from evil. I bind my mind to your mind Lord Jesus, taking every thought captive under the obedience of Christ, that my thought life will be pure and blameless. I strap on the sword of the spirit which is your word, I promise to spend time in your word today to increase my arsenal of truth and I bind myself to the truth of your word, and ask that your Holy Spirit quickens my heart, guide my study and give me strength for my day. Your word is life to me, in JESUS NAME! AMEN!🔥🕊

(Loretta Lynn Efird)

[shiratamako]

Hi!!! 👋 I was hoping that you could write a snippet from Aymeric’s POV about your girl! 🥰

Flesh and Blood

882 Words, Pining and Heavy Angst Set after As Goes Light, So Goes Darkness Heavensward Patch 3.1

The Warrior of Light had been unnaturally quiet after rescuing the hostages from the basilica. The scream of a child being thrown from the height of the spires still rang in Aymeric’s ears, even if Vidofnir rescued the blameless girl. Dressed in blackest coat, she was always close to him, trying her best to keep up with his pace. She gave her benediction to restore his vitality, yet she could still not offer a smile or cheer on the events that should be cause for celebration.

When Count Edmont said that he saw much of Haurchefant in him, that was when he heard the White Mage give a strangled gasp, her mouth twisted in silent anguish. Her eyes glistened as she stymied her grief, her eyes narrowing to prevent the flow of tears. The staff in her hand trembled as she struggled to hold it.

Without warning, she took off, leaving the Scions and the crowd unceremoniously as she hurried down the steps. He looked to Lucia and gave a nod. He would see to her safety himself, descending the stairs swiftly after her.

“Shira!” he called out her name instinctively as she headed in the direction of the cathedral. Aymeric caught up to her. He approached her, trying to make his presence small rather than to seem as though he was hunting her down. Her gaze was downcast as she refused to look at him.

He wished to reach a hand out to her. He wished he was closer.

He wished he was Haurchefant.

As Aymeric, he felt like he could do nothing. He was utterly powerless before her unalloyed pain.

Aymeric made his voice exceedingly soft, speaking through his throat in barely above a murmur. All consonants lost their harshness, fading into sumptuous whispers with a faint, warm rasp like a crackle in a hearth.

“Was it Lord Edmont’s words? I know you grieve still,”

She shook her head fervently, denying it. He knew there was no cause to deny it. He knew Shira would have been truthful — after all, Haurchefant came to him one night, announcing of his happy decision. The Silver Fuller spoke of the promise that he would be engaged to Shira. He wanted to protect her smile, to cherish all their happy days together.

For that, Haurchefant needed a ring and a suitable goldsmith to create an oath given form. That was why he went to Aymeric for assistance in recommending the finest artisan in all of Ishgard. Even though Haurchefant was unable to fulfil his promise to her, Shira still wore the ring on her left ring finger.

Aymeric spoke again, as sensitively as he could. “Please, Shira. I want to know what troubles you so,”

Her voice was small and faint, choked out by her tears. “I saw a vision. An echo…”

She finally raised her eyes to meet his; her soft oceanic blues. The shadow of the cathedral created an annular glow around her irises.

“I— I could not save you in time, when you fight still wounded,” She spoked her hushed, diffused oracle of the ill portent she saw, afraid and breathless. “You fell, even when I fought my hardest to protect you. I could not bear… to see you fall.”

The tears fell down her cheeks, and his heart split in twain at her sincerity, her compassion for him. He offered Shira a grateful smile. Few reminded him of his mortality, that he too, was a man that was flesh and blood. Even in the past few days he carried on despite his wounds, as though he could not fall for his duty to witness a new era.

“Rest assured I am safe, in no small part thanks to you.”

He tenderly wiped a tear away with his thumb. He soon realised the gravity of his mistake when her eyes widened in terror, her breath seizing up at his touch as she drew away from him. He rescinded his hand immediately with regret at what he had done.

“Forgive my presumptuousness, I… only wished to dry your tears,”

He cursed his momentary lapse in judgment, though he refrained from showing it on his face. He felt himself so callow to think himself as a fairy tale knight. She was not a child in need of succor; he could not simply just wipe away her every tear with kind words.

Shira quelled her own disquiet, her breaths shaky as she wiped tears from her cheeks. She looked to Aymeric, though she could never meet his gaze.

“I understand, Ser Aymeric. Thank you regardless,” Hiding her own torment, her weak voice was stiff and invariant in tone. “Please excuse me. I think Lord Artoirel will be expecting me at Fortemps Manor.”

She bowed to him, overtly distant and formal in her parting. She walked over the bridge to the Last Vigil with hurried steps. As her form grew smaller on the horizon, Aymeric was left alone in the cold shadow of the cathedral.

“Fury, strike me down,” Aymeric rasped in his solitude. He curled his hand to his chest as he offered both a prayer and confession. For he too, was a man of flesh and blood and no better than any other.

“If I cannot give her peace, grant her your mercy.”

[bloom-with-grace-and-faith]

1 THESSALONIANS 5:18, 23-28

Happy thanksgiving! And god bless!

23 Now may the God of peace Himself sanctify you through and through [that is, separate you from profane and vulgar things, make you pure and whole and undamaged —consecrated to Him—set apart for His purposel; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept complete and [be found] blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

24 Faithful and absolutely trustworthy is He who is calling you [to Himself for your salvation], and He will do it [He will fulfill His call by making you holy, guarding you, watching over you, and protecting you as His own].

25 Brothers and sisters, pray for us.

26 Greet all the believers with a holy kiss [as brothers and sisters in God's family].

27 I solemnly charge you by the Lord to have this letter read before all the congregation.

28 The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

[cobblestonesummers]

Create in me a clean heart, O God…

“Have mercy on me, O God,

according to your steadfast love;

according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

and cleanse me from my sin!

For I know my transgressions,

and my sin is ever before me.

Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight,

so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment.

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,

and in sin did my mother conceive me.

Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,

and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;

wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Let me hear joy and gladness;

let the bones that you have broken rejoice.

Hide your face from my sins,

and blot out all my iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence,

and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways,

and sinners will return to you.

Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,

O God of my salvation,

and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness.

O Lord, open my lips,

and my mouth will declare your praise.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭51‬:‭1‬-‭15‬ ‭ESV

‭

This psalm has been on my heart a lot the last few days. Reading and praying through it has brought a lot of truth to the situations I’m in. It’s revealed to me just how sinful I am. David wrote this after having an affair with a woman and killing her husband. He did terrible things. But he asked for forgiveness and he repented. God forgave him and still loved him dearly, even after his sinful deeds. It reminds me that I can never be too far gone for God to love and cherish me. I’m never too bad for God to forgive me.