#daily faith practices

[thinkingonscripture]

Biblical Strategies for Dealing with a Toxic Supervisor

Some years ago, I suffered under a toxic boss who had a very controlling personality. She meticulously managed her public image, maintaining a polished but fake charm, and used relationships to maintain her power. Despite her initial charm, her character flaws became evident over time. On several occasions, I witnessed her using intimidation tactics with staff, shutting them down in an unjust and…

[z3phyr23]

Drawing Day 12

Back to Hatchetfield! Alice Woodward! I had two plans for this one, I went with the first one. Maybe I’ll do the second plan some other time. The vibes are a little off, I’d doesn’t match her character as well, but oh well.

If you have a character you’d like to see, let me know and I’ll do my best to make an emblem for them!

[dumas1969]

All In: Daily Devotion

All In: Daily Devotion

Hebrews 5.11-14 Paul says it this way in Romans 12.2, “…do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” By spending quality time in God’s Word every day, the Spirit takes the truth that we have read and begins to transform us, so that whatever the situation, we can…

[tomthomasblog]

From Ritual to Relationship: The Revolutionary Concept in Romans 12:1

When the apostle Paul penned the words of Romans 12:1, he introduced a revolutionary concept that would change how believers approached their relationship with God. This verse, which calls us to present our bodies as a "living sacrifice," marked a significant shift from the Old Testament system of animal sacrifices to a new, dynamic way of worshiping God. Let's explore how this verse transforms our understanding of worship and daily walk with God.

"I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service." These words invite us into a new realm of spiritual experience, where every moment of our lives can become an act of worship.

The idea of sacrifice was not new to Paul's readers. The Old Testament contains detailed instructions for animal sacrifices. These rituals were meant to atone for sin and demonstrate devotion to God. However, they were temporary and had to be repeated regularly. In contrast, Paul introduces the concept of a "living sacrifice"—an ongoing, daily offering of oneself to God.

This new understanding transforms worship from a series of rituals to a lifestyle. It's no longer about what happens in the temple or on special occasions but about how we live every day. Our bodies—how we act, what we say, and where we go—become the means of our worship.

The sacrifice Paul describes is "holy and acceptable to God." Holiness, in this context, doesn't mean perfection. Instead, it refers to being set apart for God's purposes. When we offer our lives to God, we choose to live differently from the world around us. We say, "God, I want my life to be used for Your purposes, not just my own."

Interestingly, Paul calls this our "reasonable service" or "spiritual worship." The word "reasonable" here suggests that this dedication makes sense when considering all God has done for us. It's a logical response to His love and mercy. This shifts our perspective on sacrifice from a burdensome duty to a joyful response.

Living as a sacrifice changes how we approach every aspect of our lives. Our jobs become more than just ways to earn money; they become opportunities to serve God and others. Our relationships become channels through which we can demonstrate God's love. Even mundane tasks like cleaning the house or running errands can become acts of worship when done with a heart of gratitude and service to God.

This concept also transforms our understanding of church and community. While gathering with other believers is crucial, worship isn't confined to a building or a service. Every interaction with others becomes an opportunity for prayer as we seek to honor God in how we treat people and represent Christ to the world.

However, living as a sacrifice isn't always easy. It requires daily choices to put God first, often in the face of competing desires or worldly pressures. It's a process of growth and sometimes involves struggle. But as we persist in offering ourselves to God, we find that this way of living brings deep fulfillment and purpose.

As we conclude, I would like you to reflect on how you can live out Romans 12:1 daily. What would it look like to offer your body – your actions, words, and choices – as a living sacrifice to God today? Start by identifying one area of your life that you can consciously offer to God. Remember, this isn't about perfection but a willing heart that seeks to honor God in all things.

Living as a sacrifice is more than a religious duty; it invites a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God. It's a way of saying "thank you" for all He's done for us. As you embrace this concept, may you discover the joy and purpose that comes from a life fully dedicated to God.

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The Scripture Collection A compilation of 20 uplifting music videos inspired by a different Bible scripture. First Edition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rv1XEZzrCvE Second Edition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucV8yJIEsvc

=======================

Website: https://bwpub.net/

I've created the song "Living Sacrifice" in three different genres from Romans 12:1.

alt-country surf rock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cWrtMUujjQ bubblegum bass symphonic metal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XDaibWcWaY dark alternative rock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Spa6C1EoU5s

[heartofaangel01]

[compassionmattersmost]

Title: The Heart of Faith: Believing in Jesus and Following His Teachings

Introduction In John 6:40, Jesus provides a profound insight into the will of God: “For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” This verse is a cornerstone of Christian faith, underscoring the importance of recognizing and believing in Jesus. Yet, this belief is not merely about acknowledging…

[onlinewealthcreater]

A true friend is someone who keeps you in their prayers.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys with reader who has a silly collection of stickers and puts them over their faces, their suits or their weapons (most of them with silly encouraging phrases to cheer them up lol)

Dick

He bought you a set of stickers once and ever since it’s been his ultimate downfall but in the most humorous way possible.

Dick has a sense of humour, he didn’t mind a couple of stickers here and there, even going so far as to keep the cute cartoon mushroom stickers that you’ve left on his escrema sticks as your personal touch on his belongings.

He even once woke up to a face full of them and when he asked your reasoning as to why, you only shrugged your shoulders and said ‘I thought it’d be funny to see how many stickers I can put on your face without waking you up.’

Dick takes the whole thing in stride and in good faith and loves the fact that you went out of your way to cheer him up through your cute but inspirational stickers. It was almost as though you knew that he needed a little pick me up that day and did so tenfold by coating his hands in stickers that reminded him of your deep care for him and his mental health.

So nowadays Dick doesn’t mind waking up just to see his face covered in stickers and instead smiles and goes about his daily routine as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jason removed his red helmet from his hand and could only stare at the stickers that littered across the sides and back either a blank stare as Roy practically pissed himself with laughter.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, how did I not see this?’ Jason muttered under his breath, scratching at sticker of a cartoon Robin holding a stick in its beak.

‘Oh there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a little self expression Jason,’ Roy snickered, ‘but I didn’t peg you as the type to collect stickers and cute ones at that.’ He then points to a particular sticker on his helmet of a cat hanging from a branch followed by the saying; just hang in there.

‘piss off.’ Jason told him. He knew something was a miss but didn’t know what it was and now that he knew, everything was starting to make a bit more sense. For starters you didn’t kiss his helmet like you usually did before he left of patrol, almost as though you didn’t want to ruin something on his helmet that he didn’t see, at least not at that point in time.

He should’ve known because you’ve pulled this stint with his guns before in the past but what you didn’t know was that he kept a few that were now a little worn and faded. So while he appear a little peeved that you have took it upon yourself to decorate his helmet, he was a sentimental guy deep down who loved anything and everything you’ve given him and treasures it with his entire heart.

Jason’s a secret sap when it comes to you and knows that he’ll come to laugh at all this at a later date as he recalls all of it to you when he comes home, already envisioning your reaction when he’d inevitably calls you out on it, knowing that he could never stay mad at you for very long. He physically couldn’t and refuses to when all you were trying to do was lift his spirits.

You were too sweet for him but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Damian

Wants you to take them off at first, how was he meant to be taken seriously if he was covered head to toe in stickers, ridiculous.

He thinks them childish unfortunately

However when you do stop putting your stickers across every one of his belongings for a brief stint, he begins to realise the true intended purpose behind them, and would begin to leave subtle hints that he wanted you to go back to coating everything he owned in stickers in his own way of apologising.

He’s stubborn but he cares for you and what you meant to him and if planting stickers on the sheath of his sword on the premise to uplift his spirits, then who was he to stop you from doing so. He wasn’t use to someone going out of their way to try and cheer him up and was more use to isolating himself from everyone in his room and just draw out his innermost feelings.

So you covering his face, suit and or weapons with stickers with cute and uplifting words was something he needed time to get use to, but once he does he tries to keep the stickers that had long served their purpose within the pages of his sketch pad as a keepsake of your thoughtfulness towards him.

This portion of his sketch pad is kept under a lot of secrecy on his part but you find it eventually because of course you do.

Damian wasn’t use to someone caring about him as much as you did and in a more unique way than littering the hilt of his sword in stickers made to make his day just that a little better. Damian, much like Jason, keeps a sticker or two on his weapons but in places where it would be harder for others to spot and would run his thumb over it whenever he felt that he needed your presence.

Tim doesn’t mind you putting stickers on his stuff, he’s pretty much unbothered by it and would just accept the fact that this was your way of saying that you’re thinking of him and his well-being. Tim knew you well enough to understand what you were trying to say through your stickers from the stickers you used consistently.

However due to his egregious sleep schedule lead to many instances where he would wake up to his face covered entirely in stickers, and at first he thought it was the lack of sleep that was making him see things but soon realised that his face was indeed covered in stickers, and would silently stare at you through the mirror as you tried hard not to laugh.

He threatens to plaster your face with stickers next time, he does follow up on his promise but that’s a story for another time.

To Tim it was almost as if you had just made up an entirely new way of communication through stickers, he’s even got them categorised based on their subliminal messages and what you were trying to tell him through them.

He appreciates the stickers and would even find himself smiling at them on the odd occasion and run his fingers over them gingerly as to not accidentally peel one of them off. He loved your unique way of cheering him up and would get a little sad when he sees that someone them were starting to fade or become worn, only to feel a warmth spread throughout his chest when he saw new stickers next to the places of the old ones.

Each and every sticker had it’s sentimental significance to him and if Tim were to ever find out that you didn’t have anymore stickers to spare, he would buy you more sets and act like he didn’t have any part in this despite the parcel having his name on it.

[edenfenixblogs]

re: your comment about the misinterpretation and misuse of "tikkun olam" by non-Jews, could you please explain what it *does* mean? I've heard that it roughly translates to repairing the world (like with Rabbi Tarfon's "it is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it"), but idk if that's what it actually is or not (sorry if any phrasing is weird, i've been awake for way too long today)

Your understanding is correct.

It does mean repairing the world. This means doing charity and choosing kindness whenever possible and generally doing small and large things without recognition in order to leave the world better than you found it. Plant a tree. Read at a nursing home. Save all your loose change for ten years then donate that amount to a cause you care about. Make kindness that helps others heal a part of your daily practice. This is tikkun olam.

I have seen bigots who consider themselves progressive try to goysplain tikkun olam as Jews attempting to impose their idea of perfection on the world around them and that we use it to justify violence. I have seen people say that Jews consider the bombing of Gaza and Rafah to be the ideal practice of tikkun olam. And it is a blatantly and horrifically false and disingenuous to say this. Tikkun olam is my absolute favorite aspect of my faith. I wake up and choose kindness and peace every single day and have since I learned about this concept. It is not always easy, but it is always worth it.

And to see others pervert it into something violent and to associate that violence as synonymous with Jewish religious ideology is truly one of the most painful things I’ve experienced in this conflict and one of the most bigoted things I’ve experienced in my life.

[becomingthatgirl111]

guide to become your best version ✨

the first step, be clear about what your best version would look like. questions to ask yourself.

what would my best version look like?

what habits would i have?

what would my life be like?

what would be my morning and evening routine?

what thoughts would i have?

what would i focus on?

what thoughts and habits should i leave behind?

how would i like to feel?

and lastly…

what can i start doing to connect with this version of me?

you can also add your own questions if they resonate with you, the important thing about this exercise is that you connect a little bit more with that better version of yourself.

from my experience, it is important to focus and work on these three areas of our life at the same time so that none of these areas are out of balance and we can flow to that version more easily.

it is important because i have realized from my own experience and from other people who send me questions that they only focus on one area, in most cases, the habits, and forget others, then when something happens or we go through a bad moment we feel lost and it seems that everything is "wrong" but if we work on these areas at the same time and we nurture them day by day we will have more control of our emotions and thoughts, then we will not stagnate in "bad times". remember, we can always go through bad times but these always bring us a learning experience.

✨ physical

daily movement, create an exercise routine

eating healthy food, for the sake and perfect functioning of our body.

create a daily routine that will help us reach our goals.

healthy habits

hobbies that help us connect with our best self.

focus on the well-being of our body

✨ mental and emotional

read about personal growth, psychology, and topics that will help us to improve our personal best.

journaling

keep a daily record of our emotions, as well as our habits.

focus on what we do want rather than what we don't want

detect what our negative thought patterns are and change them for - more positive ones according to how we want to think and feel from now on.

affirm positively

work on those areas of our life that we need to improve or are damaged

✨ spiritual

healing and balancing both your feminine and masculine energies

develop your intuition

have faith in yourself and in the process of creation (god, universe, energy…)

read about spirituality

meditate day and night

doing energetic cleansing

connect with your spiritual side

love yourself for who you are now

forgive the people who hurt us and forget the past

practice gratitude

practice compassion and tolerance towards yourself and others

connect with nature

this is what i believe brings us closer to becoming our best version, as i am always learning new things about the subject and evolving both personally and spiritually so i will continue to share this in future posts.

as always all questions related to the topic are welcome and if you have any doubts you can also ask.

[eratosmusings]

Loyalty (I)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: the king decides it's time for his brother to produce more targaryen heirs. who better than another hightower daughter to carry them?

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, dubcon smut in later chapters, arranged marriage, abortion allusion (moon tea), coercion, terrible parenting

word count: 2.3k

dividers

“I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Viserys asks with an air of frigid humor. “Who are you to deny your king what he has commanded?”

Otto seethes, decades of practiced court manners faltering under the demand. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but she is my daughter. I will not have her married off to a man whose love of violence and debauchery trails him like a shadow. She is a pious child. To marry her to Daemon is—“

“A blessing. She will marry a prince and a valiant knight.”

The other men at the table are silent. They'd expected talks of reinforcing the kingdom's claim on the Stepstones or of quelling rumors that had cropped up of Daemon corrupting his young niece in a brothel a year prior. The king commanding a marriage between Otto Hightower's youngest daughter—his only child from a tragically short second marriage—is an unpleasant surprise.

"He is already married."

Viserys gives a taut smile. "Daemon's marriage to Lady Royce has been annulled. By royal decree and with the blessing of the High Septon. It is in the best interest of Westeros that the Targaryen line remains vast and strong and it has been decided your daughter will do what Lady Royce did not."

Otto's face falls in disbelief. He's heard nothing of it. This had been set up to corner him. "She is a child."

"She is nearly four years older than Alicent was when we wed. The queen has proven your daughters are strong vessels for Targaryen children."

"It is different. She is different. She is not as strong as Alicent."

The king shakes his head. "I will hear no more discussion of this. She will wed Daemon and this feud between the two of you shall end once and for all.”

Alicent’s touch is feather-light as she takes hold of your hands. Her eyes wander across your form, taking in the exquisite ivory gown. Its crimson embroidered dragon along the skirt a special request from your soon-to-be husband. “You look beautiful, sister.”

You can say nothing to your half-sister, barely able to retain the tears brimming in silence. A fortnight was all you’d been given to prepare to wed the vilest creature in Westeros. Daemon Targaryen was all you could have ever hoped against in a husband.

Your father stands tall behind Alicent, head held high. "The image of the Maiden herself."

A choked sob escapes you at his words. This marriage was punishment by the Seven for every sin you'd ever committed. For the impure thoughts you'd had of knights. The white lies you'd spoken to save yourself the wrath of Septa Agerrea. The gambling you'd participated in when you’d bet your favorite embroidery needle in a game of cards with Lysa Tyrell. Had you only followed the Faith more faithfully, this torture would not be yours to endure.

“I believe it is time to take your place with the king, Your Grace,” your father says.

Alicent hesitates with glossy eyes. She draws you into a tight hug and whispers an apology and how much she loves you. You have the faintest memory of her wedding to the king a few years before. The happy sister who’d spent hours braiding your hair when the handmaidens failed to do it properly disappeared into a hardened queen round with child seemingly overnight. The smiles and giggles you’d shared daily turned to fond, distant memories. She withdraws a moment later, wiping at her face.

When the door shuts your father moves behind you. You watch in the ornate mirror as he drapes the green maidencloak of House Hightower across your shoulders. The new burden's weight feels uncomfortable.

He returns to stand before you, his expression sorrowful. "I am sorry, my sweet child, for this atrocity. You deserve far better.”

“I could have saved myself this fate had I been less worldly and become a Septa.” Your palm wipes at the tear that had fallen.

He cups your cheek. “Perhaps. But we cannot lament on what we could have done. Indeed we must focus instead on your duty to the realm.”

“To be a good wife,” you state. It was what he had raised you to be.

“No, sweet child,” he says softly, “I fear that I must ask something far more difficult of you. For your duty to the realm must supplant your duty in marriage.”

The wedding takes place in a haze. You tremble, stumble over words, and can not meet the eyes of your now husband nor the Septon. Soon you would betray them both.

For the good of the realm.

You do not eat or drink through the feast. You barely speak. You think you might have danced, though all you remember of it is a blurring background and an embroidered dragon that matches your own. It had stared at you accusingly.

“Shall I call for the bedding ceremony to begin, brother?” the king slurs loudly. If there had been anything in your stomach, it surely would have come out now. It was one vile thought to have him touch you. But to have other men undress you as well?

Your hand is pulled from your lap, enclosed in another twice its size, callous and rough against your skin. For the first time that day you look at your husband. You’d never seen him this close. The lavender gaze cannot have been of this world. It’s too vibrant, too knowing. “Too many of the men here have wandering hands. I’d hate to spill blood on such a blessed day.” His lips brush against your hand. “My sweet wife should not have to endure such tragedy.”

The king responds dismissively. Something of disappointing guests, but to do as he pleases. Daemon takes it as a dismissal and pulls you from your seat. The last thing you hear is the call from many about bloody sheets.

Perhaps the Mother has decided to take mercy on you. For you cannot breathe as the doors to the prince’s chambers close behind you. Death can take you before he can.

He stands in front of the fire, pouring some drink into a goblet. The flickering orange light suits him. Like he was born for flames. “You must relax. There is nothing for you to fear from me.” A lie. There was much to fear from him.

A booming knock echoes through the room.

“Enter.”

Two servants carrying trays of bread and fruit enter. Then they are gone just as swiftly. The door closes once more.

“You must eat,” he says, taking your hand once more and leading you to a small table. You sit and a piece of bread is offered. You take it and, after an expectant nod, take a bite. It’s still warm and soft. You take another bite. And another.

It’s gone quickly. Too quickly for a lady. A bowl of berries clatters softly in front of you. You pick at it slower, though not as slowly as you’d like. They are sweet. Perfectly ripe.

“Would you like some wine?”

Despite the juice of berries coating your tongue, your mouth is dry as you speak for the first time since you’d said your vows. “Yes, please.”

“So well mannered.” A smug smile spreads across his face as he raises his goblet and sips. He reaches over and sets it down beside the half-empty bowl. “I forgot to have them retrieve another cup.”

The crimson red liquid ripples. A challenge.

“You are very gracious, my Prince. Thank you.” You lift it by the stem and drink. It was stronger than you’ve ever had before. The taste takes you aback, coughing as it soaks your tongue. Hastily you set the cup back down.

"I take it you don't often indulge in Dornish Reds."

"No, never."

His head cocks to the side appraisingly. "I suppose such a thing has never been offered to you before. Not within the confines of your father's authority. He has given you a rather sheltered life."

A prickly heat seeps up your neck. "My father did not confine or shelter me. He has only ever guided me to live as virtuously as the Seven wished for all their children to live.”

“How very kind of him to not let you endure the same vices as himself.”

You blink, his words sinking in. The implication that your father is a drunkard stings. He isn't, but you don’t fight his accusation. Selfishly, you do not wish to defend your father. Instead, you pluck a berry from the bowl, hoping to end the conversation entirely.

"Are the berries quite good?"

You nod, not wanting to speak again.

"Might I have one?" When you go to pick up the bowl, he stops you. "Pick me out the best one."

The best one? The bowl is still half full. Which berry was the best? Would he be disappointed if you picked one he did not like? Or one that was not ripe enough? Not sweet enough? What would he do to you if he disliked the one you chose?

It was the largest blackberry that you finally settle on, prepared to hear how terrible the choice had been as you hold it out to him. He doesn't simply take it. He leans over the table, taking the berry and your fingers into his mouth.

The act is heinously intimate. It leaves you frozen and breathless as he pulls away, his eyes alight in devious amusement. "I'm not sure which taste I prefer. The berry's or your's."

Fire spreads across your cheeks. You flinch away, embarrassed. In the escape effort your arm knocks against the goblet. To your horror, it clatters against the table. The liquid sloshes across your front, staining the white gown.

The crimson seems to seep from your womb, condemning you for something you had yet to do. You paw at the stain as the chair clatters on the ground from the force with which you'd stood.

Tears brim in your eyes as it continues to spread.

“There's no need to fret. It is only wine.”

“I have desecrated it.” The tears have not stopped falling and your hands have not stopped scrubbing at it with your fingers. “The stain will never come out.”

“It is only a dress.” He cups your face, encouraging you to meet his gaze. It searches for some understanding.

He would never understand.

“I am so sorry, my Prince.”

He shushes you softly and places a kiss against your forehead. This was the monster? The vile, unholy beast whose every action was an affront to the Seven? This man who had shown you nothing but kindness?

You cry harder.

He is not the monster.

You are.

You aren’t sure how long you cry. But he holds you through it all. He speaks little more than a few consoling phrases, but it is more than you deserve. His presence, arms around you, kisses on your hair. All of it more than you deserve.

You’re finally calm, only left with sniffles, when he says, “We should get the dress to the washwomen before the stain sets.” What good would it do? The stain can never be removed from your soul. Still you agree and turn for him.

His fingers are swift as they loosen the strings of your bodice. Practiced. He is practiced. Behind closed doors you assume, but there were numerous tales of his public debauchery. It has been gossiped that he prefers the thrill of open affairs and touches of multiple women.

“Why did you refuse the bedding ceremony?”

He pauses. “Did you wish to have one?”

“No,” you say quickly. “But given your…tendencies I…I thought…” A quiet hum has your words trailing off.

His work continues, though slower. “You are not a whore in a brothel.”

“Neither is your niece and yet...”

Air blows across your neck as he chuckles. “Has my pious little wife been gossiping about the chastity of the Crowned Princess?”

Your lungs seize at the realization of what you’d just said. It’s treason. Questioning her virtue is treason.

“Relax, jaesa.” His hands slip between the shoulders of your shift and the loose gown, pushing the sleeves down your arms. “I took you under my protection today. You may speak freely to me.”

“I,” you hesitate, freeing your hands of the garment, “I had heard that a year ago you snuck the princess from the castle and—“

He bunches the fabric at your waist and tugs. “Had my way with her in some brothel?”

“Yes.”

The gown struggles for a moment, snagging on the curve of your behind. Another tug and it is a pile around your feet. “My niece wished to see King’s Landing. I showed her and returned her to the castle, still a fair maiden like yourself.”

“Of course.”

“You doubt me?”

“No, my Prince.”

"It would do a great disservice to our union to begin it with lies." He prompts you to turn and hesitantly you do. He is shorter than your father, yet his presence is as commanding. More so. It makes you aware of how thin the fabrics of your shifts were when his gaze drifts down. "My niece's heart belongs elsewhere. As do my desires."

His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, but the feeling's it stirred are rough and uncertain. Bordering on traitorous.

“Shall I call a servant to fetch the dress?” The words waver. You wonder if they’re comprehensible at all.

They are, it seems as he rejects the offer and slips out the door himself with the dress. The reprieve from his watchful, astute eye is welcome. You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed and recite the prayer your father had taught you minutes before you’d been led down the aisle.

Warrior, give me strength for what I must do. It is for the good of the realm.

Mother, forgive me for what I must do. It is for the good of your faithful servants.

Stranger, lead my children to peace. It is for the good of their innocent souls.

a/n: all your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated 🌺

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[muslimrar]

10 Simple but Important Habits for Muslims #shorts

In this video, we will be discussing 10 simple but important habits that every Muslim should strive to incorporate into their daily lives. These habits include leaving the mosque with the left foot and entering with the right, sleeping early, using a miswak, having a pleasant smile, spreading Islam, speaking kindly or remaining silent, wearing the right shoe first, following the 1/3rd rule when eating, visiting the sick, and sitting while eating and drinking. These habits may seem small, but they can have a big impact on our lives and help us to live in accordance with Islamic teachings. Join us as we explore these 10 simple but important habits for Muslims.

[holdmytesseract]

dad-to-be!Daryl absolutely pampering reader. She's just started experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and she's scared about the real deal happening soon, so Daryl takes it upon himself to help her relieve some stress. Bathing her, making her food—or, well, trying to—painting her nails with some nail polish he got from Maggie or someone, etc. just sweet Daryl all around.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don't! Don't feel pressured at all, love 💜

In This Together

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Starting to experience Braxton Hicks, your archer is more than adamant to be by your side.

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? fluff, pregnancy stuff, mentions of a injury and a fight, bit angst, protective!Daryl

Set in the beginning of Season 9!

Word Count: 3,3k

a/n: Here we are. Dad-to-be!Daryl! 🥰

Thank you SO much for sending me this, @dixons-sunshine ! I LOVED writing it! 🧡 I hope you don't mind that I, uh, drifted 'off-topic' a bit. The writing department in my brain just has its own mind... 🫣

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"So... This is nothing I have to be afraid of?" You asked hesitatingly; voice still thick with concern. Siddiq gave you a bright smile, which was a clear attempt to nip your worries in the bud. "No, Y/N, absolutely not. It's perfectly normal and important to experience Braxton Hicks. And besides it's an indication that my estimations are correct. You're about twenty-eight weeks along now, I'd say - in time frame for that to happen." You nodded; finding Siddiq's reassuring words truly helpful. "O-Okay... But there's nothing I can do about it, right?" "No, sorry. You just have to go through them." You gave the doctor another nod, "Alright..." and moved to sit up on the makeshift examination table; Siddiq immediately offering you a hand to help you up - which you gladly took. "Thanks." The man smiled at you once more and stood to his feet as well; placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Just remember, it's important for your body. It's practice." "Yeah," you answered; rubbing the back of your neck. "Won't change that Daryl's gonna be worried sick... Dunno if he knows what Braxton Hicks are." Siddiq chuckled; knowing exactly what you meant. He got to know the archer way better the past months, and knew what he was 'capable' of...

"Explain it to him like I did to you. He'll understand." "Mhm, yeah, gotta try." You offered the man opposite you a last smile, patting your thigh to gain the attention of your furry, four-legged friend and headed for the door; "Thanks, Siddiq!" Dog following close behind. "Sure thing, Y/N." The doctor watched you leave, before he returned to his work.

You made your way slowly back to the basement apartment you and the archer shared. It took you about two times longer now to head from the infirmary back home; due to the pregnancy and its side effects. Your feet were swollen and hurting, just like your back now and then. It could be quite frustrating from time to time, especially when your husband wasn't around to give you endless foot rubs and massages - just like at the moment. Daryl was stationed and working at the bridge since almost two weeks now... You missed him - a lot. The daily conversations over the walkie-talkie weren't just enough anymore.

Knowing he'd be away for at least a month, he left Dog with you; trusting the faithful canine to keep you safe. He did and seemed to understand exactly what his dad asked him to do. Dog was like glued to your side; never leaving. You thought it was adorable and utterly precious.

Closing the door of the basement behind yourself and Dog, you grabbed the walkie-talkie and plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. Since the sun had started to sink, you hoped that Daryl could spare some time for you now to talk. Sure, he always did, but you hated to keep him from important things. After all, he was an important figure in this whole construction Rick and everyone else had built over the years. Daryl wasn't 'just' a right-hand-man anymore... He was a leader - and you weren't just talking about the Sanctuary.

"Daryl?" You pressed the button of the radio and called out his name, before letting go of said button again; waiting for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you tried again. "Dar? You here?"

It took the archer another few moments to answer. "Yeah, 'm here," his slightly static voice suddenly sounded from the small device in your hands; giving you a little scare. "Sorry, sunshine. Been wantin' ta get away from that bridge first 'n into my tent." He paused for a short moment.

"Everything a'right with ya two?"

You smiled; already loving to hear his voice. Dog's ears perked up as well, before he quickly joined you on the sofa and snuggled against your left leg; head resting on your thigh. Your free hand immediately went to give the canine some well-deserved head scratches.

"Hey, baby. Yeah, we're good; just missing you..." An adorable grunt could be heard from the other end. "Don get me started on how much 'm missin' my girls."

Your heart clenched at his words; bottom lip wobbling dangerously. What you would give to curl up in his arms now...

Somewhat between a sob and a laugh was escaping your lips. "Baby, you gotta stop that, or you're gonna make me cry, what in return in going to make our munchkin even more sad." "Even more sad? Whaddaya mean?" Daryl asked; his attention falling on his unborn child in concern. You smiled sadly and started to absentmindedly caress your baby bump; letting go of Dog, who was dozing peacefully.

"She's very unsettled and... antsy. I can feel it. She kicks more than usually a-and well... I think it's because she misses her daddy. She's used to hear your voice, you know, and now it's not there. Over the radio isn't the real thing..."

All you could hear for quite a few moments from 'the other end of the line' was silence. You frowned and just opened your mouth to say something, when you heard his voice again. "'M comin' home," Daryl stated. Your eyes widened. That wasn't your intention... You knew that he had to stay. Rick needed him there, but his words were also so tempting... And the fact that he was willing to drop everything just to drive back to Alexandria in order to calm his unborn daughter caused your ovaries to explode.

But you knew better, unfortunately.

"No, Daryl. You gotta stay. Rick needs you." He scoffed. "But our munchkin needs me more..." Well, damn. That was actually the truth. Valid point. "I know, baby, but I got it, okay? It's only two more weeks..." "Yeah, 's two weeks too much," he grumbled in return. "I know, but look... After that is done you won't have to leave us again until the birth. Rick promised, remember?" Daryl sighed; remembering his brother's words.

You were sure you had convinced him with that; already celebrating your victory over his stubbornness internally, when your body decided to throw a wrench in the works... Hitting you with a Braxton Hicks contraction.

Of course, you didn't see it coming - how could you? And therefore left a loud hiss your lips, followed by a small, yet painful cry, before you were even able to stop it.

You knew right away that you were screwed now. That wasn't how you planned to tell him... Fuck.

"Y/N?!" His panicked voice instantly urged to your ears. And Daryl wasn't the only one worrying... Dog had woken from his sleep by your cry; ears perked. He was wincing and repeatedly nudging you with his wet snout.

"Y/N!" "I-I'm here, Daryl," you radioed back as soon as the mild contraction subsided. Taking a deep breath, your free hand returned to the canine curled up against your side; petting his fur. "I'm okay, Dog, I'm okay..." You reassured Daryl's animal companion.

"Wha' wrong?! Are ya in pain?! Please talk ta me, woman!" You swallowed; redirecting your attention back to your worried husband. "I'm good, don't worry. It's just... I, uh, started having Braxton Hicks..." "Braxton wha'?" "Braxton Hicks... Those are, um, mild contractions. It's something that occurs between the twentieth and thirty-fifth week of pregnancy. My body is, uh, practising for the birth," you explained; biting your lip, before quickly adding: "Siddiq says it's a good thing a-and perfectly normal."

There was silence on the other end for a long moment, before the click-clacking sound of the little device in your hand announced Daryl's voice again. "'M comin' home," he stated once more; now drop-dead serious. "Packin' my stuff right now."

Damnit...

"Baby..." "Nah. Ya ain't talkin' me outta this, Y/N. Yer in pain, havin' fuckin' contractions! 'M comin' home." You sighed; knowing that starting yet another 'discussion' would be most likely fruitless. You couldn't stop him. Not again. "Imma talk ta Rick first thing in the mornin' 'n leave as soon as I can." "I won't win another argument, will I?" "Nah, ya ain't."

You sighed again, but ultimately gave in. "Alright... I'll see you tomorrow then... Be safe and drive carefully, yes?" "Of course, sunshine. Don worry 'bout me. You stay safe, ya hear me?" "Promise." "Good. I love ya. Both 'a ya." "We love you, too."

With yet another sigh, you put the walkie-talkie aside; placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. You didn't want Daryl to cut this 'mission' short just because of a few cramps, but on the other hand, you couldn't deny that you looked forward now to see him again. Two weeks felt like ages.

You smiled; cupping your baby bump once more. "You heard that, munchkin? Daddy's coming home tomorrow."

Daryl had a hard time sleeping that night - naturally. He was way too worried, and therefore just decided to spend the rest of the night on watch; waiting for the sun to rise.

Once the other people in the camp had started their day as well and the place was literally bustling with members of all the various communities, the archer sought out his brother...

"Rick." Said man was currently talking to Cindy and Beatrice from Oceanside as Daryl approached. The former policeman's eyes travelled shortly to Daryl, before he ended his conversation with the two women and shifted his attention. Cindy and Beatrice passed Daryl by; giving the archer a nod, which he answered with a curt jut of his head.

"Mornin'," Rick greeted his brother; hands on his hips. "You good?" The leader was indirectly referring to the last remains of a fight his friend had with Justin - a Savior, few days prior. Daryl had clearly won that argument, but a very prominent cut above his upper lip was the price he had to pay.

The archer put Rick off; "'M fine." quickly dismissing the topic. "But we gotta talk." Rick nodded and gestured at the huge tent only a few yards away, in which everything else got usually discussed as well. Wordlessly, Daryl followed him; stepping through the flaps of the dark green tent.

"I gotta go back home." He didn't beat around the bush. Why should he? "Y/N's experiencin' those... fake contractions, 'n the baby's very restless; givin' 'er a hard time as well. She needs me," Daryl explained; biting the inside of his bottom lip. "I know ya need me 'ere too, 'n 'm sorry, but-" "Y/N and the baby are your priority, I know," Rick interrupted the archer and gave him a smile. "As it should be, Daryl. They're your family. Go home. We got this." He nodded; head lowered. "Thanks, man." Rick smiled once more and gave his brother a pat on the shoulder. "Be safe, yeah?" "Ya too."

Not even ten minutes later was Daryl kneeling beside his bike to strap his crossbow on the vehicle; ready to leave. The camp was bustling with people, and yet found him a specific pair of eyes...

"You're leaving?" Carol asked as she came to stand beside him; arms crossed over her chest. "Without saying goodbye? Shame on you." Daryl looked up, almost apologetically. "Yeah, 'm leavin'. Y/N needs me," he explained; getting to his feet. "But I was gonna say goodbye. I ain't jus' leavin' ya." A frown carved itself immediately in the woman's forehead. "Is everything alright? Y/N and the baby are fine, right?" The archer nodded. "Yeah, jus' some fake contractions 's all, but I wanna help 'er through this. 'Sides the lil' munchkin 's missin' me," he explained; shrugging his shoulders and moving to mount his bike.

Carol gave him a cheeky, yet happy smile. "I think you're the happiest I have ever seen you, you know that? It's good, pookie." "Pf," Daryl scoffed and grunted; couldn't stop his cheeks from reddening. "Stop." His best friend smiled even brighter. "No, 'cause it is a good thing. You deserve this. To be happy. You do." The smile he gave Carol then was nothing but sincere. He wasn't a man of much words, but the woman knew, of course.

Daryl started the engine and exchanged a last look with his best friend, before he drove off.

Since you knew that Daryl was returning sometime this morning, you decided to take on Michonne's watch. It took you all the convincing skills you had, but in the end gave your friend in. Some fresh air was always a good thing, right? And all you wanted was to see your husband approaching safely the gates.

You didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but you were pretty sure it had been a few hours, until you heard that familiar sound of an approaching motorcycle. Standing up from the comfortable camping chair Michonne had gotten up on the wooden tower only for you, you watched with a smile how Daryl drove up to the gates - which got immediately opened for him. The archer had seen you, of course. A short eye contact was enough to display the feelings exploding within the both of you. Especially happiness and love.

Well, it had been two long weeks...

Your husband drove past the gates; immediately turning off the engine and dismounting his beloved vehicle, while you moved to slowly climb down the wooden ladder - step after step. You were carrying precious cargo, after all. About halfway down, you suddenly felt two big palms settling firmly on your hips. "Careful, sunshine," the archer's deep, smokey voice urged to your ears. You smiled; his touch and voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Planting both feet firmly on the ground again, you immediately turned to hug the man as tight as your baby bump allowed.

"Daryl...," you breathed; inhaling his scent and fighting the tears - kudos to your hormones. "Hey, sweetheart." He held you just as firm, before he pulled back to gaze concerningly in your eyes. "Wha' were ya doin' up there?" He nodded at the watch tower. "Waiting for you, of course." Daryl grunted in clear dislike. "Ya shouldn't be up there. 'S dangerous. 'Specially alone."

You appreciated and treasured his protectiveness, but in that very moment was the watch tower the last thing you thought about.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you cupped your husband's cheek. "Shut up and kiss me." Daryl still wasn't entirely comfortable of displaying affection in public, even after all those years - what you didn't mind, of course, but in that very moment, he didn't give a fuck. The longing and the ache in his heart after having to be away from you for so long was taking over.

He grunted in fake annoyance, before he dipped his head to meet your lips halfway in a deep, longing kiss. "I missed you so much, Dar," you whispered against his lips and bestowed another sweet, short kiss upon them. "Missed ya, too, sunshine." You smiled; his cheeks still cupped by your hands, as your eyes roamed his handsome face. But your happy expression got quickly replaced by a frown as you noticed the small injury above his lips.

"Where did you get that cut, baby?" Daryl shook his head; hands squeezing your hips in a reassuring manner. "'S nothing, sweetheart. Jus' got in a fight a few days ago 's all." Your eyes darkened. "One of the Saviors?" He nodded. "Justin. He was bein' an asshole. Couldn't let tha' slip." You sighed; nodding. "Does it hurt?" Concern flamed up within you once again. "Nah. Not anymore."

You wanted to answer him, but another cramp shot through your lower abdomen; causing you to grimace. Daryl's grip tightened again on an instant. "Contraction?" "Y-Yeah..." You confirmed; luckily feeling the period cramp like pain subsiding again. "C'mon, sunshine. Let's getcha back home. 'M here fer ya two now. Ain't gonna leave again."

You weren't the only one being happy about Daryl's return. Dog was happy too; almost taking the bulky man off his feet with the force he threw himself on him; paws connecting with Daryl's broad chest. You only watched with a smile; hands supporting your baby bump.

Speaking of... The tiny girl living in your womb was ecstatic to hear her father's voice again. You could feel it. Once you had cuddled up with Daryl on the sofa, to catch up on the lost time of physical contact and conversations, you felt her move; recognising Daryl's voice and seemingly that the hands around her home weren't yours as well... Daryl was about to tell you about working at the bridge, when a tiny foot connected with the palm of his hand. "Was tha'...?" You giggled; nodding. "A foot, yep. She got super active within the last hour. She knows her daddy is back. Told you she missed you." A breathless laugh left your husband's mouth; his thumbs starting to caress the clothed skin of your stomach. "Hey in there, lil' munchkin. I missed ya too, ya know."

He received another strong kick in return.

"She's got bigger 'n stronger. I can tell." "Yeah? You think so?" You asked; turning your head to gaze at the archer over your shoulder. "Yeah. Can feel it. 'S different." You just smiled at him; loving how observing he was and cuddled further into his arms; enjoying every second of your reunion.

"Daryl?" You asked after a few minutes of pleasant silence. "Yeah?" You swallowed; picking at your nails. "Those Braxton Hicks I had the past days... They kinda, uh, gave me the creeps a little bit. I-I mean... I know now that the birth isn't very far away and that the real contractions will be way worse. That's... scaring." The archer nodded; biting the inside of his lower lip. "'M sorry 'bout that, sunshine.... Wish I could take tha' fear away, but... 'm afraid too. 'M scared of losin' ya or her, or hence even both 'a ya. But we gotta make this somehow, right? We're in this together. You 'n me. I ain't ever leavin' yer side."

To hear that Daryl had his fears as well was weirdly reassuring for you; knowing that you were truly not alone in this - in every aspect.

You laid your hands on top of Daryl's, which were still resting on your baby bump. "W-We gotta make it, yeah. You and me. Together." You felt Daryl nuzzling your neck; his goatee scratching your skin and his chapped lips aiming for a kiss. "Like we always do."

The following days and weeks were spent by the archer to help you through the Braxton Hicks contractions whenever you got hit by one, and through the pregnancy in general, of course. He was even more attentive and protective than in the beginning and was doing everything in his power to take away the stress and make you feel as comfortable as possible - which included pampering you. Endless foot rubs and back massages, running countless baths for you, getting you your latest craving - even in the middle of the night, and of course cooking food for you. The cooking wasn't always successful, but you loved the man for all the effort he put in. Daryl took you on walks around Alexandria regularly as well; making sure you'd get some fresh air. Certainly not outside the walls, but he'd accompany you everywhere you wished inside the walls.

Daryl even agreed on painting your nails, which ended in a mild disaster, but it definitely didn't fail to put a big smile on your face.

And when the tiny miracle inside you finally decided to see the light of the day and Daryl's hand was tightly locked with yours as you went through labour, you knew that everything would be alright, because you got Daryl and Daryl got you.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007

[bloomzone]

Ⳋ᧙ ⊹Embracing the Art of I don't chase I attract mindset :

"Best revenge? Smile, be happy and never let them know it hurt."

-goo hara from kara (rest in peace 🕊️)

The mindset of "I don't chase, I attract" revolves around the principles of self-confidence, self-worth, and the law of attraction. Instead of actively pursuing what we desire, this mindset encourages us to focus on personal growth and positivity, believing that by doing so, we naturally draw in the opportunities and experiences meant for us.

Here are 16 tips to adopt this mindset effectively:

by: 𖧷´ bloomzone 𝅄 ׂׅ

1.Focus on Self-Improvement: Invest in yourself by learning new skills, engaging in activities that fulfill you, and prioritizing your well-being. When you feel good about yourself, you radiate positive energy that attracts like-minded people and opportunities.

2. Set Clear Intentions: Be specific about what you want in life. Whether it's a new job, a meaningful relationship, or personal development, having clear intentions helps you stay focused and aligned with your goals.

3. Practice Positive Affirmations: Reinforce your self-worth and confidence through daily affirmations. Statements like "I am worthy of success" or "I attract positive opportunities" can help shift your mindset and energy (the white swan affirmations)

4.Visualize Your Goals: Spend time each day imagining your goals as if they've already been achieved. This practice helps create a positive mental image and aligns your actions with your desires.

5. Trust the Process: Have faith that what is meant for you will come to you in its own time. Avoid forcing outcomes or chasing after things. Trust that by staying true to yourself and your goals, the right opportunities will present themselves naturally.

6. Surround Yourself with Positivity: Keep positive influences around you, whether it's people, environments, or content. Positivity fosters a high vibrational state that attracts good things into your life.

7. Cultivate Gratitude: Regularly express gratitude for what you already have. This practice helps you focus on the positive aspects of your life and creates an abundance mindset, which attracts more good things to you.

8. Let Go of Fear and Doubt: Work on releasing fears and doubts that hold you back. Fear and doubt create resistance and block the flow of positive energy. Embrace a mindset of faith and trust in the process.

9. Engage in Mindfulness and Meditation: Incorporate mindfulness practices and meditation into your routine. These practices help you stay present, reduce stress, and maintain a positive outlook, making you more receptive to opportunities.

10. Take Inspired Action: While attracting involves less chasing, it doesn't mean being passive. Take actions that feel right and aligned with your goals, but do so from a place of inspiration rather than desperation.

11. Embrace Change and Adaptability: Be open to change and willing to adapt. Sometimes, the path to what you desire requires adjustments and flexibility. Embracing change can lead to unexpected and rewarding opportunities.

12. Practice Self-Compassion: Be kind to yourself. Acknowledge your efforts and progress, and don't be too hard on yourself when things don't go as planned. Self-compassion fosters a positive and resilient mindset.

13. Seek Joy and Fun: Engage in activities that bring you joy and make you feel alive. Joyful experiences raise your vibrational energy and attract more positive situations and people into your life.

14. Learn to Listen to Your Intuition: Trust your inner voice and gut feelings. Your intuition can guide you toward opportunities that align with your true self and help you avoid situations that aren't right for you.

15. Develop a Growth Mindset: Embrace challenges as opportunities to learn and grow. A growth mindset helps you stay resilient and open to new possibilities, making it easier to attract what you desire.

16. Celebrate Small Wins: Recognize and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small. Celebrating progress keeps you motivated and reinforces the positive mindset needed to attract more success.

ıllı ⠀ : This mindset encourages u to trust in ur abilities . Remember that each step taken with mindfulness and resilience brings us closer to ur dreams.❛ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ !!

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

[compassionmattersmost]

Experiencing True Worship: Unity with Christ as Our Foundation

Rediscovering the Heart of Worship: Embracing Christ Within In John 4:23, Jesus reveals a profound truth about worship: “Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.” This passage invites us to explore a deeper dimension of worship that transcends mere ritual and…