#devotion to the point of wickedness is also hot.

[fissions-chips]

sirens are sexy pass it on

[thebluestbluewords]

*Insert Pingu card meme here*

Not quite a Valentine's day fic, but something like one, maybe. Mal & Carlos, shippy if you squint. ~1600 words.

<3

“Valentine’s is…fun.” Carlos says doubtfully. 

“That’s what literally everyone says, yeah.” Mal repeats. “Fun. Because it’s a day about feelings.  And people here like to talk about their feelings.” 

“And it’s fun.” Carlos echoes back, sounding even more mystified about the whole concept. “Having feelings.” 

Mal has lots of fun feelings. She has rage, and anger, and sometimes a terrible hot feeling that bubbles up in her chest and makes her want to scream until everyone around her runs away forever and leaves her alone to die. “Look, I don’t know. Evie told me today that everyone here says it’s fun, and we need to make sure we’re not sticking out. And all the girls in third period were talking about how they’re so excited to tell everyone how much they love them, and Audrey was all, like, ‘buy your Valentine’s chocolate from the SGA table to support my school wide empire on fun’ and honestly I sort of tuned out after she started talking so I don’t actually know if there’s anything else to this stupid holiday.” 

Carlos makes a face that might be trying not to laugh. Or possibly trying not to sneeze. It’s hard to tell. “You heard that there’s feelings, and chocolate, and a chance to humiliate Audrey, and decided that obviously we have to make it a magical day for everyone?” 

Mal also heard that there’s going to be a chocolate fountain at lunch in honor of the holiday, but she’s keeping that part to herself for now. “Pretty much,” she agrees. “Throw me the glue.” 

“Do we get chocolate?” Carlos asks as he stretches up to pass Mal the glue. It means that he has to let go of one side of the ladder, which doesn’t feel entirely great from Mal’s vantage point standing on the tips of her toes on the very top step, but it’s fine. If she falls off at least she won’t have to go to class tomorrow. 

“Of course that’s the part you focus on,” Mal huffs, stretching down to snag the bottle of glue from his fingertips. “And yes, if you’re a very good little boy, we can steal Audrey’s student government chocolate as soon as her back is turned.” 

“I could take offense at that,” Carlos says slowly, returning to his place at the base of the ladder. “I could take it by myself and not share any with you.” 

“But you won’t,” Mal sing-songs, spreading a thin layer of glue over the blades of the classroom fan. Details are essential in wicked schemes, and she didn’t earn an A- in Scheming and Wickedness because she forgot the details, like making sure her magical mess is going to be a maximum pain in the royal behind to clean up. “Because you—Hey!” 

The base of the ladder wobbles again, just for an instant. 

Carlos looks up at her, face blank and innocent. “Did you need something?” 

Ugh, boys. 

“You undying devotion to the cause,” Mal snaps, shaking the bottle of glue in a vaguely threatening manner. “And your support on the base of this death trap, come on. If I fall off this ladder and break my neck I’m going to tell everyone you’re the one responsible for this.” 

“I’m already an accessory to your crime,” Carlos says placidly, but he’s holding on to the ladder again, so it really doesn’t matter what he thinks about the supposed legal system of Auradon Prep. Accessories to crime aren’t real when you’re a student, which Mal knows, because she’s read the student handbook. All students involved in mischief share punishment equally, in some sort of attempt at teaching them fairness that’s more misguided than the maps in wonderland.  “I don’t think a broken neck is really a likely outcome at this point anyway. And if you do break your neck from falling six feet down, I’ll just get all of the chocolate that would have been yours anyway. Really a win for me either way.” 

Mal will not laugh at her brilliant, wicked boy. Laughing will only encourage this sort of smart-ass behavior in the future, and as a leader in her school community, she is a pillar for goodness and upright moral behavior. 

Also, she’s afraid that if she laughs the ladder is going to break.  “Shut up and hold my ladder. If we make it through this alive I’ll get you your very own chocolate later. Legally gained.” 

Carlos, safe on the ground, does laugh. “Ugh, why?” he asks seriously. “Stolen food tastes better.” 

“Obviously,” Mal agrees. She’s actually going to murder someone over the stupid glue bottle designs. Stupid middle schoolers. If they hadn’t been caught doing glue shots at the back of the art classroom, Fairy Godmother wouldn’t have banned full size bottles from campus, and she wouldn’t be in this situation at all right now.  “But it’s not a very good gift if it’s stolen. I’m a good and moral citizen now, haven’t you heard?” 

“What if I’m evil and only take bribes in the form of stolen goods?” 

Mal throws up her hands, and the glue bottle with them. The thing stays firmly attached to her fingers. At least the glue inside it works, even if the bottle is a useless tiny piece of junk. “Fine then! But I’m taking it from Audrey, and you’re not getting it because of the holiday. I’m getting you chocolate because you’re a manipulative little rat bastard who is coercing me into acting as an accessory to your crimes.” 

Carlos grins. “Sure, keep telling yourself that, Malfeasance. Are you ready for the next bottle yet?” 

Mal plucks the glue bottle off her left hand and beans it down at his stupidly cute little curly head. “Yes. Step two, engage.” 

The industrial sized bottle of glitter was worryingly easy to procure. One little call to the craft supply warehouse, one school identification number from the back of their art textbooks, and a few little white lies later, five bottles of pastel pink glitter arrived in an unmarked package to Mal’s student locker. It’s really a security risk, how trusting the mailroom staff can be. She’s practically doing the school a favor. After this they’ll have to assess the contents of each and every package that all the students receive, and the mailroom staff will have more work to do. She’s creating jobs tonight, which is a good thing for the economy. Or something. Maybe if Economics wasn’t her final class of the day, and the classroom wasn’t so warm and comfortable for napping in, she would actually care. 

Whatever. Mal’s actions here tonight are an overall act of goodness that will increase the safety of the student population and therefore what she’s doing is a correct and proper thing and Fairy Godmother won’t be able to give her any crap about it later. 

Also, it’s going to be funny as hell to watch the glitter rain down the moment the fans turn on. 

“I think this one might be done!” Carlos calls up, coughing glitter out of his mouth. It’s possible that Mal could have been a little bit more careful with her placement. “If you wanna get down so I can move the ladder, I can take the bottle. Y’know, before you cover the floor too.” 

Mal flicks her final handful down over him, just for evil measure. 

“I think you’re done,” she calls back, shoving the cap back on the glitter bottle and dropping it down in the general direction of the floor. “With. Life.” 

“Ow,” Carlos calls back, voice completely flat. He catches the bottle that she’s dropped down to him though, which counts for a lot. “You’re not as cool as you think you are, dragon breath.” 

“I’m going to dump the leftovers of this in your shoes,” Mal says cheerfully, hopping down from the ladder now that the fan is fully coated, and there’s no longer glitter resting precariously below her feet. “You’re going to track it everywhere you go for months on end. The teachers are all going to know exactly where you’ve been each day and you’ll never be able to get it out of the treads.” 

“You would not.” 

“Would so!” Mal says brightly. “You’ve been getting too soft if you think I won’t.” 

Carlos rolls his eyes, but he’s already hefting the ladder up to move it to the next ceiling fan, so he can’t be too bothered.  “You won’t,” he says confidently. “Because we’re going to dump the leftovers through the slots on those lockers right by the second floor bathrooms.” 

Ooh, now there’s a thought Mal can get behind.

Next fan. Ladder down. Mal steps up. 

 “You’re thinking of the ones who won’t move their shit out of the hallway to let people by, right,” she asks, just to be sure. Details are essential, after all. “The same ones who clutch their little pink purses when we walk by? Not the ones by the stairs who won’t shut up about how we’re the downfall of proper society?” 

“Those’re the ones.” Carlos agrees. “The purse clutching feels worse somehow. Like, we’re not going to grab it out of their hands.” 

“Right.” 

“We’d totally steal their locker codes instead. Can’t fit a laptop in a purse, and I could use more scrap parts.” 

That’s it. 

“I’m rationing this so we can hit the ones on the third floor too,” Mal says, shaking the bottle of glitter with what she sincerely hopes is a menacing sort of look. She’s rusty. There’s not nearly enough chances for a proper wicked monologue at Auradon Prep. “You’re spared from the glittering for now, furball, but only because I’ve found a more deserving victim, not because you deserve better.” 

Carlos laughs. There’s glitter all over his face now, raining down from the handful that Mal threw into his hair, and he looks happier than… 

Happier than he’s been in a long time. 

Maybe there’s something to this whole valentine’s thing after all.

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

TAGLIST:

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APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Kingdom Divided

The golden age of Israel closed with the death of Solomon. His empire was great, extending over wide limits. His revenues were very large. Everything in his kingdom was on a grand scale. He "made silver and gold to be as stones in Jerusalem." The palaces and public buildings were magnificent in their splendor. Yet the seed of decay was in the heart of it all. The rabbis say that while Solomon walked about in splendor - a worm was eating at the heart of his empire. This is another way of saying that the elements of corruption were in Solomon's kingdom. There were reasons. His heart had been drawn away from God by his heathen wives. At the same time the magnificence of his kingdom and the extravagance of his reign made it necessary to extort oppressive taxes from the people. Many of them also were drafted for forced labor. No wonder that they grew restive under these hard conditions. When Solomon died they were ready for the outbreak which followed. If Rehoboam had been wise, there might not have been an immediate rending of the kingdom from him - but in his folly - he drove the people to the extreme of rebellion.

Solomon largely outlived his fame. His reign became excessively burdensome to the people by reason of the heavy taxes they had to pay. His character also lost much of its charm through his departure from God. His aims were not lofty - as they were at the beginning. He was called in his earlier years, the wisest of men - but his later life was characterized by folly. His kingdom was no longer as secure and strong as it was, when he received it. Indeed, it was ready for disruption, and Solomon himself was responsible for its corrupt condition. It was a pathetic ending of his record that, notwithstanding the glory of his reign and the great things he had done - no word of commendation of him is given. All that is said of the close of his life is that he "slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city of David his father; and Rehoboam his son reigned in his stead."

Solomon did not leave behind him when he died - a sweet, fragrant memory in the hearts of his people. "When he was gone, the people came to Rehoboam, asking him to lighten their oppressive loads. Rehoboam promised them an answer in three days, and then sought advice.

First he sent for the older men, and they advised him to grant the request. Experience had made them gentle. "Show yourself their friend," they said. "Listen to their grievances. Take a kindly interest in them. Think of their good. Speak to them affectionately. Give them the relief they seek, and serve them in any way you can. If you do these things - you will win their love, and they will prove your faithful subjects."

This was good advice - but Rehoboam was not satisfied with it. The aged men were too slow for him. He turned to the young men of his own age, hot-headed fellows like himself, and sought advice of them.

When the people came to the king for his answer, Rehoboam, following the advice of the younger men, and replied to them roughly. His answer, indeed, was insolent and brutal. Such words as he spoke would have kindled the flame of rebellion, even if there had been no tinder dry and ready for the spark.

Rehoboam has many followers. We should learn the folly and wickedness of sharp, rude, and bitter words. Anyone sees how unworthy of a king, Rehoboam's speech was - but such words are unworthy of anyone's lips. They were insolent, contemptuous, haughty, unmanly, and cruel. We are all too apt, under provocation, to give rein to intemperate speech.

Destinies have been wrecked by following foolish counsel. Every young person needs a wise older friend to whom he may go with his life's serious questions. Happy is the young man or young woman who has such a counselor, and who will then accept the wisdom which comes of experience. But Rehoboam rejected the wise counsel of the aged men. He answered the people roughly: "My father was harsh on you, but I'll be even harsher! My father used whips on you, but I'll use scorpions!"

The consequence of Rehoboam's harsh words was the wrecking of his kingdom. The people turned away, saying, "What portion have we in David?" It took but a minute to give the reply which Rehoboam gave - but the harm done by it never could be undone! Burke said, "Rage and frenzy will pull down more in half an hour - than prudent deliberation and foresight can build up in a hundred years." We need not go far, nor seek long - to find other illustrations. Many people lose noble, helpful friends, lose them beyond regaining, by the petulant, ill-tempered words of a minute. Many lives with splendid possibilities become utter failures through uncontrolled tongues. When will men and women learn to put bridles in their mouths?

The matter of seeking advice is always a serious one. Some people too readily turn to others to ask them what they should do. We ought to learn to think for ourselves. Each man must bear his own burden. We never can get clear of the responsibility of choosing for ourselves. However, there are times when we may turn to others for advice. The young and inexperienced especially may receive valuable help from those who are older and more experienced. But in seeking advice we should make sure of the people to whom we turn. Bad advice has wrecked many a life.

Rehoboam had good advice from the older men - but rejected it. There are many who follow him in this regard - they receive good counsel from friends, from parents, from teachers, from godly men, from those who are wiser than themselves, and then ignore it. There are many who, like Rehoboam, reject the good advice - and take the bad. There was One Rehoboam seems to have missed altogether in seeking advice - he did not go to God for counsel. We should always ask God what He would have us do; He never advises unwisely. No life was ever wrecked by taking His counsel.

One lesson we get from Rehoboam's undisciplined course - is that those who would rule over others, must have achieved both self-control and patience in themselves. Rehoboam had achieved neither. He thought only of his own personal gain - the last element that should influence one in dealing with others. He lacked altogether that spirit of meekness, which Jesus said shall inherit the earth. We should keep SELF out of our work for God, out of all our work of love. Whenever SELF comes in - it mars everything. We should think only of our duty, not of the way our act may affect us. If Rehoboam had asked, "What course will be the best for the country and for the good of the kingdom?" he would not have acted so foolishly. He would have shown patience and kindliness, and would have lightened the heavy burdens under which the people were bending.

Those who rule over others, should love them and be ready to serve them. Rehoboam is an example of those who try to govern others by tyranny. If he had really loved the people and had been disposed to serve them, sympathizing with them in their burden-bearing and showing them kindness, they would have continued loyal to him. "Through love, be servants one to another" is the New Testament law.

We all need to guard ourselves at these points. We are apt to be unloving and harsh in our dealings with others, especially when our dignity seems to be hurt. Even parents need to keep a careful guard upon themselves in this matter, lest their consciousness of having authority should make them unjust to their children. Paul exhorts fathers not to provoke their children to anger, lest they be discouraged. Teachers have like temptation in enforcing authority. So have all who are placed over others.

It often happens that a man who has been very kind and brotherly as a fellow-workman, or as an equal among men, becomes tyrannical and intolerant when in a position of authority. We should remember that all power is of God, and we represent Him in whatever place of authority we occupy. We should rule, therefore, in God's name - as He would rule if He were in our place. In all our dealings with those over whom we are placed in the Providence of God - we should be gentle, sincere, loving - that we may look into God's face without shame.

Life has its turning points for all of us. This was the turning point in Rehoboam's career. He had before him the possibilities of a prosperous and successful reign. All hinged, however, on one word. Should he say yes - or no? If he had said yes, he would have won the people to himself and his kingdom would have been established. He said no, however, and he drove the people to anger and rebellion. Men are continually coming to turning points when all their future depends upon a single decision. Two paths lie before them. One leads to beauty, honor, blessing; the other leads to dishonor and sorrow. The decision of the moment, settles for us in which of these two paths we will walk. Many a man or woman by a careless word - throws away the hope of infinite blessing and good.

It is interesting to notice that while the kingdom of David had failed of its best through man's fault and sin, it was not altogether cast off. The vessel had not come out what the potter first intended it to be - it had been marred on the wheel - but he made it again, another vessel, not so fine as the first would have been - but still a good vessel. The kingdom had a second chance. From the seed of David came at length the Messiah. There is encouragement in this for all those who miss their first and best chance. They may try again, and their life may yet realize much honor and beauty. When we think of it, most of the worthy lives of godly men in the Bible - were second chances. They failed, and then God let them try again. David himself, and Jonah, and Peter, and Paul are illustrations.

[hecohansen31]

I Could Have Another You In A Minute

Gunnhild+Ingrid (Modern AU)

“To the left, to the left Everything you own in the box to the left In the closet, that's my stuff Yes, if I bought it, please don't touch (Don't touch) And keep talking that mess that's fine But could you walk and talk at the same time And, it's my name that's on that jag So remove your bags, let me call you a cab “

“Irreplaceable” by Beyoncé

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

I have decided to write a few different fics since we are in pride month, to honor all the different shades of love (I obviously know that this is an extremely commercial thing, but I just wanted you to know that you are more than welcome to request this kind of fics, if you are interested!).

I have another one pubblished on my AO3 (of the same name), and I’ll try to upload it here too!

I hope that Bjorn’s stans will know that this is just me messing around with a ptompt and I don’t mean no offense (although Bjorn to me is like that husband on the show ‘Seeking Sisters Wives’, whose wife broke down crying because she didn’t want a polyamorous relationship and he simply just stood there) (also no offense to polyamorous relationships, this isn’t my intent, and I do think that show portrays ‘poly-love’ in the worst way possible).

I really hope you’ll like this idea, although it is different from my usual, and if you end up actually liking it, please do give me some feedback, if you feel like it.

Feedback always helps us writers in feeling motivated and writing more, so if it pleases you, don’t forget to leave a comment or a reblog, if you liked it.

Feedback makes our heart beat and our fingers write faster!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Cheating, Slight Mention of Sex, Slight Misogyny (Girl-On-Girl Hate)

Gunnhild hadn’t thought this day would come.

Certainly, she hadn’t thought that a man like Bjorn with two previous disastrous marriages would have been truly faithful to her till death did them apart.

But at the same time, she hadn’t thought it’d happen this soon.

And in this way.

She had started noticing Bjorn straying away from her bed and her arms, but she hadn’t thought much about it, mostly because they had both always been pretty independent from each other, something she had prided herself with.

Which turned out the same thing that had brought her husband away from her.

Making him tired of her.

Alongside the pretty blonde thing that had been keeping company at him by night.

Her name was Ingrid.

She was the secretary at the corporation Bjorn ruled over, after he had been able to disentangle it from his younger brother’s hands, mostly thanks to Gunnhild.

It felt strange for her to see that so many things that she had done being the ones that had pushed Bjorn in Ingrid’s awaiting arms.

Almost as if she had been the one pushing him in them.

She was a pretty thing, certainly a bit younger than Gunnhild, and immediately the wife had known what her husband had seen in his lover: the promise of a renewed youth through her thighs and her pretty smiles.

She had once caught Bjorn in such a ritual, pushing himself as some graceless boar between the thighs of the slender woman, in a way that had made Gunnhild question if this was the way he also acted with her in bed.

If she had been simply too blinded by the need to please him, to make him feel like she enjoyed truly rusty bedroom antics to notice how truly awful Bjorn looked, old and almost funny in his search for eternal youth.

That had been the first time she had caught them, together, in his office.

And at first, she had hated Ingrid with all her heart.

She now recognized that it had been one attempt to shift the blame away from the man who had done the true act of betrayal, because although it indeed took two to cheat, it was her husband who had decided to fall in the temptation of a pretty face.

He should have known better.

He had a devoted wife.

Somebody who had given up her entire career to be with him.

Gunnhild, fierce and strong Gunnhild, one of the best lawyers in entire Norway if not Scandinavia, had decided to become a soft-spoken trophy-wife for Bjorn Ironside, taming the wildness in her wicked ways that her previous husband had loved so so much.

The result had been awkward.

She wasn’t well-liked in the social circles.

She wasn’t one to smile at photographers or to hold her tongue, meanwhile Bjorn and his colleagues spoke of the latest harassment lawsuit they had avoided with a hefty sum.

It was tiring on the long run.

But for a long time, she had blamed for it.

But she had thought it would have made Bjorn happy.

It would have made him stop his antics of chasing skirt after skirt.

She had also used this to justify Bjorn’s cheating ways.

So, for a long time, she had been quietly raging against Ingrid, meanwhile her husband chased her skirt, but didn’t decide in the slightest to end things with Gunnhild, keeping her good and at his own use, anytime he needed.

But it was all coming to an end.

She could feel it.

This was simply a temporary situation.

So, she hadn’t been surprised when Bjorn had asked to talk about the ‘Ingrid’s situation’.

But she hadn’t expected to hear what he uttered.

‘I want her and you’ he had spoken almost as if he should have been flattered of it ‘… she is… she is what is missing in our relationship’.

And those words had been her blessing.

Those words had opened her closed eyes.

And she had realized that it had been Bjorn who had been missing something, not her.

Because she had been happy in this relationship…

… most of the time…

And if something was missing…

… it wasn’t Ingrid.

He would have chased again new skirts and new women, after her.

No matter her.

No matter if Gunnhild accepted this or not.

He liked the thought of being able to pry away the innocence of the most resilientgirls  like he had done with Gunnhild and he enjoyed even more the thought of silly young things like Ingrid flocking at him in admiration, like a small girl that had to learn the world.

And he was the solely one who could teach her.

But it was all huge bullshit.

And she had finally realized it.

‘Honestly Bjorn… I don’t think that it’d be fair…’ she had spoken and immediately Bjorn had started pleading and then he had pouted, almost as a silly child, who had been denied his favorite toy.

But Gunnhild slept lovely at that sound.

As she planned her own revenge.

If Bjorn wanted to chase youth through the things of some basic secretary, why couldn’t she do the same.

With the same girl.

The following morning, she had blamed her own bad humor and answer to her period, knowing that Bjorn wouldn’t have questioned such thing.

He never questioned anything as long as it profited him.

‘But I’d like to know more of this Ingrid before agreeing to this lifestyle’ she had spoken, as they ate breakfast, enjoying the way Bjorn’s face crooked in a confused expression ‘… I haven’t seen much more of her than her ass, and I’ll have to soon share an house with her and an husband. I’d like to test if she is a proper addiction to our life’.

She had particularly enjoyed the small bicker that had ensued after, as Bjorn tried his best to mark up his authority, suggesting there was no need for such a control, but in the end the strenuous lawyer, that Gunnhild was, had won her also this case.

And the chase had begun.

Ingrid, at first, had seemed wary of her and her nearness.

Certainly it wasn’t an everyday thing that the wife of your lover came to your house for an afternoon tea with no desire to slap you as in the worst telenovelas or beg you to leave her husband alone.

Gunnhild had simply told her Bjorn’s plans, insisting on a few details…

… intimate details that had left Ingrid a bit hot on the cheeks.

And she had enjoyed the sight of it.

Maybe a bit more than it was proper for her plan.

But soon it had all started its motion, as she made sure to pass more and more time with Ingrid, making her feel comfortable in her presence, to the point that anybody in a crowd would have thought that they were the bestest of friends.

If not straight up girlfriends.

And it was nice that Ingrid seemed far more than the typical ‘I fuck the boss’ girl.

A good dash of wickedness in her eyes held an ambition that spoke directly to Gunnhild’s own heart.

‘I’d like to be something more than a secretary, but…’ she had once mentioned, meanwhile they drank a coffee after one of their shopping trips (she and Gunnhild seemed to get an immense satisfaction at wrecking Bjorn’s credit cards) ‘… but it isn’t easy, when you don’t have the connections and people see you as too pretty than to be anything but  a wife’.

It had seemed strange to hear that Ingrid had problems like that and something in Gunnhild had softened, and the artificial interest she had been having for their last meetings had become more genuine, till the point that Gunnhild had started becoming more and more interested in Ingrid.

She wanted to see the woman behind the cover of the ‘perfect girl’ she put up.

Something that could have completely ruined her plan.

Hence on one of their ‘dates’ she had asked Ingrid.

‘Tell me something, Ingrid, and don’t even try to lie’ she had focused her steely eyes on the beautiful blonde woman in front of her, who, in her favor, hadn’t backed down from the other woman’s stare, leaning in instead ‘… do you have any intention of using my husband?’.

She had seemed truly shocked by her insinuation and for a moment Gunnhild had thought that she had undervalued Ingrid’s interest and ambition and then the woman had breathed.

“Yes, I do” and it had been almost as if Pandora’s vase had opened “… he doesn’t see me as anything more than a pretty decent fuck, he has been lurching off me for the fucking energy that I give him, for the status of having such a young lover, why should I not take something from him, as well? This way we’ll both gain something from it’.

And Gunnhild hadn’t ever smiled larger.

‘Well then I have a proposition for you’.

They had brought themselves away from Bjorn’s grasps, denying him constantly the pleasure of your intimacy, meanwhile some sort of intimacy grew between them, to the point that a clumsy kiss happened, after too much wine and a few laughs to Bjorn’s expenses, on a retreat in Ingrid’s apartment.

‘You see me’ Ingrid had spoken ‘… you have your eyes open even when they are closed, and you see me as more than a pretty face’.

‘I see you as the devious minx that you truly are, Ingrid’ her words were aggressive, as the kiss she planted on her lips ‘… and I like it very much’.

And they had found themselves in bed.

And Ingrid upon her had looked like a true masterpiece.

And felt even better.

Bjorn the following day had found the divorce papers already signed.

And a special text from Ingrid.

Gunnhild now had her eyes open now and she never intended to go back to when they were closed.

---

Tagging List:

@volvaaslaug​

---

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[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #455

Top Ten Comedy Sidekicks

Ha, LOL, ROFL, guffaw, snort. Comedy, eh? You’ve got to love it, unless you somehow fall through a timewarp into a late-seventies working men’s club in Blackburn and you find yourself choking to death on second-hand smoke, mother-in-law jokes, and a simmering undercurrent of racist violence. Good times!

Anyway, it’s fairly common that even in the most serious of narratives and with the most serious of protagonists, we need a little chuckle very now and again (nobody tell Zack Snyder – actually, no, scratch that, somebody definitely tell Zack Snyder). It lightens the load, makes the world more nuanced and realistic, and even makes the truly dark moments stand out all the stronger. Most films have a bit of a joke every once in a while (and, of course, Shakespeare’s tragedies are full of comic characters or bits of business), and one very common trope is the Comedy Sidekick.

What is a Comedy Sidekick? Well, it’s a supporting character who offers comic relief, basically. sometimes this can be obviously discernible – Luis in Ant-Man, for example, may function as a plot engine from time to time, but has little in the way of actual character development and is mostly there to be funny whilst the heroes do hero stuff. Sometimes it’s harder to define; I mean, are either of the Blues Brothers a comedy sidekick? Arguably Jake is the lead and Elwood is a bit more of a “turn” (he’s almost eternally deadpan and unemotional), but I’d never say one was inherently funnier or “straighter” than the other. And the you get onto films like Aladdin: sure, Aladdin himself is obviously the protagonist, and there’s an argument to be made that the Genie is a comic relief supporting character, but I feel in this case he’s far too integral to the plot, played by a significantly more famous actor, and really just dominates the film to the extent that he becomes the de facto lead (see also: Captain Jack Sparrow). Again, in Men in Black, Will Smith’s J is clearly the “funny” one, but Smith is also the bigger star and the audience entry point; plus, Tommy Lee Jones is hilarious as the deadpan K. So it’s not as simple as it may first appear.

Anyway, the ten in this list are ones I define as definitely being supporting characters. They may be big characters, in terms of plot or development, but they’re definitely there in support of another protagonist. And whilst they may be fully-rounded characters with their own arcs, their primary function is to be funny; they’re the ones who deliver the comedy lines back to the main character, or crack a joke at the end of a serious bit.

Right, I think that’s my usual ridiculous caveats out of the way. Now let’s make ‘em laugh.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson, Blackadder series, 1983-99): Baldrick is one of the supreme comic idiots in all of fiction. Serving as a perfect foil to Blackadder, he is not only supremely stupid but also his niceness and naiveté serves to undercut his master’s wickedness; plus his idiocy is often the undoing of Blackadder’s villainous plans. But he is also charmingly fully-rounded, oblivious to his own stupidity, possessed of “cunning plans”, and with a great love of turnips. A phenomenal turn from Robinson.

Sir John Falstaff (various plays by William Shakespeare, from 1597): is it cheating to include as significant and iconic a literary figure as Falstaff? Feels a bit like it, especially as he's practically a lead (and, indeed, becomes one in Merry Wives). But really he’s the archetype: a supremely vain and self-serving comic foil, but one with vast hidden depths as he’s keenly aware of his own frailties and the inevitable end of his good times with Prince Hal.

Father Dougal McGuire (Ardal O’Hanlon, Father Ted 1995-98): in many ways he’s a slightly watered-down version of Baldrick’s comic idiot; but Dougal is, if anything, even stupider, and less self-aware. He’s like a perfect idiot, a beautiful naïve fool, a supreme man-child with his Masters of the Universe duvet. And he’s divine, just incredibly hilarious throughout; and, like Baldrick, serves as the perfect foil for his more duplicitous and cynical elder.

Donkey (Eddie Murphy, Shrek, 2001): animated sidekicks are very often the comic relief, and I’d argue that Murphy’s Donkey is as good as they come. I actually think Murphy’s prior turn as Mushu in Mulan is probably the better character, but Donkey is just a comic force of nature, a creature who exists only to make everything dafter and funnier. It allowed Murphy a chance to go all-out in a way he hadn’t on screen for quite some time, and it was something we’d rarely seen in animation (arguably only Robin Williams’ Genie is in the same ballpark). Plus, he actually is a good friend to Shrek, bringing out his better nature. Well done, Eddie!

Danny Butterman (Nick Frost, Hot Fuzz, 2007): another of those characters who really skirts the edges of “supporting comic relief” and is really a deuteragonist. But I feel like most of Frost’s characters in his partnerships with Simon Pegg are, essentially, supportive; Pegg is almost always the lead. In this film, despite Danny having some great development and functioning almost as a romantic partner for Pegg’s Nick Angel, he’s usually presented as a beautiful comic foil, his folksy, slobby demeanour contrasting perfectly with Angel’s straitlaced professionalism. And – for the second film in a row – he gets a tremendous C-bomb.

Luis (Michael Peña, Ant-Man, 2015): another comic fool, Luis is the silly, charming, endearing, loveable thorn in the side of Paul Rudd’s Scott Lang. He’s daft, yeah, and comes across as a bit dim, but his permanently-smiling demeanour means we just keep on loving him, even when we can see how annoying he would be. but what cements his position is his rapid-fire OTT explanations, and how the movie presents them; pieces of comedic joy in the MCU.

Cosmo Brown (Donald O’Connor, Singin’ in the Rain, 1952): Singin’ is one of those great Golden Age movies full of witty dialogue (as well as great songs, natch), and by its nature Gene Kelly is the lead and therefore straight man, whereas O’Connor’s Cosmo can be wackier and funnier, and in doing so get to the truth of what his friend is feeling. But what really gets him in this list is his performance of “Make ‘Em Laugh”, running up walls like he’s in The Matrix or something, and feeling like a Bugs Bunny cartoon brought to life.

Silent Bob (Kevin Smith, View Askiewniverse, from 1994): I guess you could argue that both Bob and his less-silent colleague Jay are, as a twosome, the comedy sidekicks in whichever films they’re in (apart from the two they headline, I guess); but if you take the pair on their own, I’d say Bob is the comic of the duo. Yeah, it’s Jay who’s the mile-a-minute loudmouth, cracking jokes and being explosively filthy. But who really gets the laughs? For my money it’s Smith’s perfectly-judged expressions, punctuating the pomposity or reinforcing the eccentricity of whatever Jay’s on about. And then every now and again he gets to speak, and delivers a great one-liner (“no ticket!”) or serious, heartfelt monologue (cf. Chasing Amy).

Semmi (Arsenio Hall, Coming to America, 1988): Semmi is supposed to be a loyal and devoted servant to Prince Akeem, and he is, I guess; but he’s also a true friend. Akeem’s quest to find love in New York is genuine, and despite the film’s high joke quantity, Eddie Murphy has to be relatively restrained in his lead role. Hall’s Semmi, on the other hand, gets to be acerbic, throwing shade and barbs at his lord, questing their quest and seeking his own share of wealth and, well, women. And we all love his line “you sweat from a baboon’s balls”.

Dory (Ellen DeGeneres, Finding Nemo, 2003): as discussed above, comedy cartoon sidekicks are a cinematic staple. They’re not often female, however, and even more rare is a female character who gets to be both funnier and seemingly dumber/goofier than the lead. Of course, Dory is full of pathos, a borderline tragic character whose chronic memory loss has a dreadful impact on her day-to-day life. It’s her sunny optimism (“just keep swimming!”) that makes her endearing more than her humour, however; and, of course, it’s this optimism that begins to chip away at Marlin’s (Albert Brooks’) flinty suit of armour. Funny, warm, makes our hero a better person, but can be a little bit sad – perfect comedy sidekick.

There are two that I’m annoyed that I couldn’t fit in so I'll mention them here: Carrie Fisher in When Harry Met Sally and Danny Kaye in White Christmas. In the former case, whilst Fisher’s Marie is hilarious throughout, and definitely comic relief when put alongside the relatively straight Sally, the fact that everyone, really, gets a lot of funny lines in what is a consistently funny film kinda knocked her down the rankings a little bit, even though I feel bad about it, because everything is always better if Carrie FIsher is in it, including these lists. Kaye’s Phil Davis in White Christmas absolutely steals that film from Bing Crosby, with fast-paced witty wordplay and some supreme physical comedy, and the running gag about how he saved the life of Crosby’s Bob Wallace is golden. But, I dunno, he just kept slipping down the list, despite being my favourite thing in that film. Sorry, Danny.

[morganclwe985]

Videos Pornograficos De Teens  Evaluation

Pornhub To Launch First Non.

Dancehall singjay Lanae got a significant shock today when she recognized that her latest music video, Gripe was published to the popular grown-up search internet site, PornHub. Pornhub has partnered withBaDoinkVR, a leader in grown-up online reality home entertainment, to introduce a brand-new digital fact classification. The move makes Pornhub the first free adult web site to feature 360-degree adult material. Research study shows that ladies launch divorce a minimum of 70% of the moment. One of the reasons the separation rate is so high is because the lawful system rewards women who separation (both financially & with youngster safekeeping) to the point where there is little motivation for them to try to keep the family with each other.

Hardcore Amateur Pornography Video Clips

Eighty percent of individuals who call themselves Democrats do not have a clue as to political https://sxyteens.com reality. American porn site Pornhub is launching its very first non-pornographic film on Wednesday in an effort to expand its target market as well as diversify, the business revealed to Selection. Ryan told LADbible that his venture right into the world of wholesome pornography was 'very serendipitous'.

Self-produced material is a surefire way to recognize that you're buying straight from the person whose web content you are eating. Creators can charge from the minimum and maximum quantities set by the platform, as well as fans can pay more for added pictures as well as provide tips. The site gives customers freedom over what they publish, developing firm borders and avoiding adjustment from big-time manufacturers. Pornhub The huge butt sexy fat individual who comes to him while he is doing sporting activities at the fitness center is handling her while running her chick.

Hot Pornography Collections.

After his retired life statement, many followers and also fellow pornography stars took to Twitter to thank Ryan Creamer for his contribution to the adult show business over the last number of years. He kicked off his career two years earlier in 2018 with a video clip titled I Put You In After You Cum, a wonderfully cosy POV of Ryan putting blankets over you and also giving you a small little smooch. If you're not knowledgeable about Ryan Creamer's work, he's an outright master in taking the classics of the pornography style as well as spinning them right into hugely wholesome adjustments. Ryan made the announcement early today on his Twitter, saying that in both years he's been generating his brand name of wholesome pornography for his PornHub career, he's seen so much enjoyable injected right into his life. In the meanwhile, the sexy singay is pushing ahead with the promo of Whine, which was launched on September 18th.

As an added perk we take listener concerns and Trainee Tasty checks out some notes left for him by his mom! To maintain bringing you to the brink of wickedness one show each time!!

After a little banter regarding the doomed Red Sox period, John takes a lively stand against daylight savings, Tim and ET speak a little sporting activities gaming, and afterwards everyone weighs in on the then-breaking news concerning Kevin Spacey. Things obtain a little political as the staff discusses the current political election and the function Facebook played in it. This episode is a little item of the past that we are showing you, our devoted listeners.

Recent coronavirus lockdown measures in several nations, high self-confidence in on the internet retail, and enhanced spare time are essential drivers below. There will certainly be over 36 million attached sextech tools in operation in 2020, climbing from 19 million in 2019, according to Juniper Research.

So take pleasure in that turkey, mash them taters and then take a seat as well as delight in a scandal sheet of The Skimbo Lounge! Errrrr and do not neglect to follow us @SkimboLounge and listen anywhere podcasts are offered. It's a Brand-new Year but it coincides old shizz on the Skimbo Lounge! We ring in 2018 with a deep dive into the doomed 2006 senior high school songs journey to Ocean City, Maryland (Rory, ET and also the Trainee all roomed with each other!). Falling down escalators, the norovirus and hotel damage are simply a few of the subjects as the children walk down a puke-stained memory lane and give understandings right into 'the trip from hell'.

While the children recoup from a particularly greasy weekend break at the initial Skimbo Lounge we bring you a few of their favorite commercials from the initial 17 episodes of the show! If you have actually never ever paid attention before this is the best time to dip a toe in the waters of Skimbo!

Holidays Creating Traffic Changes

Follow us on Twitter and facebook @SkimboLounge and subscribe on iTunes, Stitcher and SoundCloud and also possibly we will not sob in the shower today. We value your privacy and will certainly not pass your details on to 3rd parties. Nonetheless, we will periodically send you marketing e-mails from our enrollers. Long-lasting development popular for sextech devices, such as connected vibes and also kegel exercisers, will certainly be driven by their boosting inclusion in the sex-related health motion.

Riley Reid remained Canada's most browsed pornstar in 2019, while Lana Rhoades moved into 3rd.

When compared to various other countries, site visitors from France are 998% more likely to watch the 'French' group, 76% more right into 'Scissoring' and also 53% much more right into 'Cuckold' video clips.

When compared to other countries, Canadian visitors are 53% most likely to check out 'Threesome' video clips, 24% extra into 'POV' as well as 21% more into 'Dual Penetration'.

Re-live all your favored items as well as restaurants, from Boat Drinks to Dongers, from The Mitch Doll to Garyoke! If we left off one of your favorites be sure to let us know on twitter @SkimboLounge as well as we will certainly make sure to send you a snarky meme back!! We are definitely appreciative for our pals Matt, Tim and also John, that sat down with ET and Trainee Tasty a couple of weeks ago to go over a vast array of topics.

His last video is titled 'The Money Shot', which, if we're being sincere, sounds like Ryan is finally going to get his set off. The notorious hijab video clip has actually accumulated ISIS fatality dangers that have actually targeted Mia from the video clip's launch in 2014 to today. Mia goes to therapy on a consistent basis for injury, psychological distress, and effects of bullying. In August, Similar Internet, a site ranking firm ranked Pornhub the number 10 most seen site in Nigeria. Nonetheless, Alexa, one more site traffic ranking device created by amazon.com does not have the adult home entertainment website as component of the leading 50 most checked out websites in Nigeria.

[dfroza]

how will you respond to rebirth?

to the baptism of the heart (inside, Anew) by the Spirit and to a baptism of the body in earth’s water?

Paul illuminates this in Today’s reading of the Scriptures as a chapter from the New Testament in the Letter of Romans:

How should we respond to all of this? Is it good to persist in a life of sin so that grace may multiply even more? Absolutely not! How can we die to a life where sin ruled over us and then invite sin back into our lives? Did someone forget to tell you that when we were initiated into Jesus the Anointed through baptism’s ceremonial washing, we entered into His death? Therefore, we were buried with Him through this baptism into death so that just as God the Father, in all His glory, resurrected the Anointed One, we, too, might walk confidently out of the grave into a new life. To put it another way: if we have been united with Him to share in a death like His, don’t you understand that we will also share in His resurrection? We know this: whatever we used to be with our old sinful ways has been nailed to His cross. So our entire record of sin has been canceled, and we no longer have to bow down to sin’s power. A dead man, you see, cannot be bound by sin. But if we have died with the Anointed One, we believe that we shall also live together with Him. So we stand firm in the conviction that death holds no power over God’s Anointed, because He was resurrected from the dead never to face death again. When He died, He died to whatever power sin had, once and for all, and now He lives completely to God. So here is how to picture yourself now that you have been initiated into Jesus the Anointed: you are dead to sin’s power and influence, but you are alive to God’s rule.

Don’t invite that insufferable tyrant of sin back into your mortal body so you won’t become obedient to its destructive desires. Don’t offer your bodily members to sin’s service as tools of wickedness; instead, offer your body to God as those who are alive from the dead, and devote the parts of your body to God as tools for justice and goodness in this world. For sin is no longer a tyrant over you; indeed you are under grace and not the law.

So what do we do now? Throw ourselves into lives of sin because we are cloaked in grace and don’t have to answer to the law? Absolutely not! Doesn’t it make sense that if you sign yourself over as a slave, you will have to obey your master? The question before you is, What will be your master? Will it be sin—which will lead to certain death—or obedience—which will lead to a right and reconciled life? Thank God that your slavery to sin has ended and that in your new freedom you pledged your heartfelt obedience to that teaching which was passed on to you. The beauty of your new situation is this: now that you are free from sin, you are free to serve a different master, God’s redeeming justice.

Forgive me for using casual language to compensate for your natural weakness of human understanding. I want to be perfectly clear. In the same way you gave your bodily members away as slaves to corrupt and lawless living and found yourselves deeper in your unruly lives, now devote your members as slaves to right and reconciled lives so you will find yourselves deeper in holy living. In the days when you lived as slaves to sin, you had no obligation to do the right thing. In that regard, you were free. But what do you have to show from your former lives besides shame? The outcome of that life is death, guaranteed. But now that you have been emancipated from the death grip of sin and are God’s slave, you have a different sort of life, a growing holiness. The outcome of that life is eternal life. The payoff for a life of sin is death, but God is offering us a free gift—eternal life through our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, the Liberating King.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 25th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to God humbling the pride of the world and bringing Justice to His people, and also pointing to a time when death is removed from the picture, mirroring John’s writing in Revelation:

Eternal One, You are my God.

I will lift You up and praise Your name.

Because You have made wonders marvelous and beautiful—

the most ancient designs holding strong and sure.

Your power is awesome. You have brought down whole cities,

turned fortresses and strongholds into piles of sticks and rubble.

A citadel of foreigners is no longer even a city.

Those structures are gone forever.

This is why nations strong and mighty will glorify You;

the cities of ruthless people will fear and respect You.

Because You stand up for the poor and weak,

You comfort and empower them in their distress,

Giving them safe harbor and cool shade when it’s hot;

You shelter them from their oppressors’ blows

As a strong wall holds back the driving rain.

You shelter from the relentless heat of the desert.

You quiet the clamor of outsiders, ease them to stillness.

Like a full, dark cloud relieves the heat,

You silence the arrogant song of the violent.

The Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, is preparing a feast,

a feast for everyone on this mystical mountain

With aged wine and good food, the finest wine and choicest meat.

And God will swallow up the oppression that weighs us down.

He will take away the heavy shroud

that is draped over all peoples of the world.

God will swallow up death forever.

The Lord, the Eternal, will wipe away the tears from each and every face

And deflect the scorn and shame His people endure from the whole world,

for the Eternal determined that it should be so.

And in that moment, at that glorious time, people will say,

People: This is our God! We put our hope in him.

We knew that He would save us!

This is our God, the Eternal for whom we waited.

Let us rejoice and celebrate in His liberation.

For on this mountain, the powerful hand of the Eternal abides.

He will smash and tread Moab like straw on manure.

And God will reach out, like a swimmer pulling water,

and drag down their arrogance and everything that made them proud.

God will bring down their strongest walls, their impenetrable defenses,

and grind them to the ground until they are only dust.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 25 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, july 3 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about knowing someone:

There is an old Chassidic story of two men sitting and enjoying a drink together. One of them then says to the other, "You know, you’re my best friend. I really love you, brother!" The other man responds, "Oh yeah? If you really love me, tell me where I hurt..."

The point of this simple story is that we can’t really say we love someone without taking the time to know them -- and that means knowing how they suffer. Most of us are suffering, of course, but are we able to transcend our own pain to genuinely empathize with others? Conversely, how many people do we trust enough to to confide our own pains and heartaches? The Law of Messiah (תוֹרת המשׁיח) is to bear one another’s burdens (τα βαρη, “weights,” Gal. 6:2), and that means making ourselves vulnerable -- and making room inside our hearts for the vulnerability of others. James tells us that personal healing comes from confessing outwardly (εξομολογεισθε) our sins (τας αμαρτιας) to one another so that we may be healed (James 5:16). Of course it’s humbling to acknowledge our sins, our failures, and our hurts to another person, but without an audience for the inner voice of our pain, we suffer all the more...

If someone loves us, they will know “where we hurt”; and if we love them, we will know where they hurt, too. This same principle can also be applied to our relationship to Yeshua... We take comfort that Yeshua sticks closer to us than a brother, praying for us and “knowing where we hurt.” But if we say that we love him, are we are not claiming that we know “where he hurts?” Does Yeshua suffer today? The Apostle Paul wrote: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col. 1:24). What is “lacking in Christ’s afflictions” is our present sacrifice for the sake of others... Yeshua hungers with those who are hungry, thirsts with those who are thirsty, feels loneliness with those who are abandoned, shivers with those who are cold, weeps with those who are forlorn, is imprisoned with those who are incarcerated, is sick with those who are ill, and so on (Matt. 25:31-ff). Yeshua feels the pain of even the “least of these my brothers.” This is where he hurts, chaverim...

The essential difference between the righteous and the unrighteous is revealed in their response shown to those in need. After all, on the Day of Judgment, both the righteous and the unrighteous will account for their choices in light of the selfsame needy and pain-riddled world. The destiny of each person will be determined by whether he or she took the time to genuinely engage the suffering of others. May the LORD help us to share His heart and passion for a lost and hurting world. Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.2.21 • Facebook

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

July 3, 2021

Lights in the World

“The sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” (Philippians 2:15)

The Hebrew and Greek terms for “sons of God” are essentially the same, but the Old Testament always uses the phrase in reference to angels, whereas the New Testament always references the twice-born saints of God.

Our text for this day emphasizes the precise reason that our Lord Jesus prayed: “I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world....They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world” (John 17:15-16). We who share this marvelous relationship bear both the “love the Father hath bestowed upon us” and the unique rejection that “the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not” (1 John 3:1).

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), and we who are His disciples are “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14. We, unlike the angels, are to remain in this unfair and distorted world as lights. Consider this! We are the light that the Lord Jesus left in this world to represent Him and His message after He returned to heaven (John 9:5).

That is why the Scriptures refer to us as saints (holy ones) and disciples (followers); even the pejorative “Christians” (Acts 11:26) identify us as representing the King! We must therefore shine with the truth (John 3:19) and shed the “light of the glorious gospel of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:4), attempting to “lighteth every man that cometh into the world” (John 1:9).

Finally, we are surely commanded to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:7). Our light should never be covered in a “bushel” (Matthew 5:15) but set on a “hill” for all to see (Matthew 5:14). HMM III

[colorofyourhair]

More Than My Whole Life

Prompt:

Prompt Rating: M/E

Note: Requests are currently closed. I will make a post with guidelines when they are open again. As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.

So yeah this is a princess/knight-ish story but there’s some elements of it that may require suspension of belief. The language is somewhat dated and formal but kevlar and firearms exist.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

The braids were a nod to her mother, of course, but Erza was in far too petty a mood to have only one reason – perhaps another nod to her mother. She knew he’d hate them and that was just fine because she wanted him to hate them. He’d been gone for nearly a fortnight on some ridiculous royal nonsense and as such he should be punished. Erza knew better than to truly blame him – as the First General of the Secretum Oficii he answered to the queen alone and carried out her official, and sometimes personal, business with the utmost secrecy – but she still wanted to blame him. And would.

Erza’s fingers tucked the last strands of her hair into the complicated twist of braids and stood. Her hands ran downward over the corset that had been made especially for her. The silk was a deep crimson and covered by a complex Bedfordshire lace design of the darkest black. Curls of clothtrail had been embroidered over with a shockingly scarlet thread. The skirt wasn’t much more than a gauzy wrap about her hips. She didn’t bother with anything else.

A breeze ruffled the drapes at the edges of her window and the faint sound of the vine leaves whipping against the brick outside pricked her ears. Erza’s hand dipped quickly into the top right vanity drawer. Her blood red lips twitched into a smirk as she slipped behind the drapes that brushed the floor.

She saw his gloved hands first before he leapt soundlessly over the edge of the open window into a crouch on the floor. He’d barely stood to his full height before the metal of her knife glinted in the candlelight. Erza pressed the blade against his neck just shy of drawing blood.

“You’re late,” she whispered hotly in his ear.

“I came as soon as time permitted, your Royal Highness.” His voice was strained and Erza enjoyed his care of her knife against his neck.

“I don’t believe you.” She dropped the knife to the place on his hip where his body armor had a small gap – a bit of information not well known to anyone outside of an intimate space with a member of the Secretum Oficii. Erza poked the tip of her blade through the small gap. “I should gut you here and now.”

“To think my blood should spill on your skin would be an honor, Your Highness.” The tone was unexpectedly reverent and Erza faltered. In that fraction of a second, he spun on her and took her wrist in an iron grip. She felt the cold brick against her arms as he lifted them and towered over her. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen today.”

“Your arrogance is unbecoming. Release me at once.” Her words came out less forceful than intended, so she resulted to physical violence. Erza’s knee swiftly shot up – only to be caught with his free hand. The leather of his glove was warm against her thigh. The First General wasted no time in sliding past the thin fabric at her hip.

“You must release me first, Your Highness. My heart and body have long been in your possession.” He held her thigh at his waist and leaned in so that his nose brushed hers. “Am I free, Princess?”

“How dare you employ seduction against me!” she huffed, her eyes falling to his lips.

“Are you offended it is you against the wall and not me at the end of your blade?” He grinned and brought his body further against hers. “The very same blade I put in your hand when we were children? I’m the offended party, Princess.”

He released her and stepped backward into the low light of her bedroom. Erza caught her breath before stepping from the shadows herself. On the cusp of forgiving him for the crime of leaving her for so long, she instead felt a surge of wickedness when his eyes lit on her hair.

“Does your cruelty know no ends?” He grinned and rested lightly on the edge of her bed. “I suppose I should expect as much from the daughter of the Queen.”

“You very well should.” Erza left the knife on the surface of her vanity and crossed the room to stand between his feet. “I look forward to your struggle in untangling them.”

“Perhaps I should shave it all off with your own blade? Your vanity is appalling.”

“You wouldn’t. I think that would upset you more than me.” His gloved hand rose to touch one of the braids but she caught his wrist. Erza met his eyes and peeled the glove off one finger at a time. “I would have your skin on mine, First General.”

The pads of his fingers brushed over her cheeks first before touching the coils of braids. Erza brought her knee around his hip and balanced against the mattress. She took his other hand and let the second glove fall to the floor. Without breaking from his eyes, she pulled his cloak loose and ran her fingers over his still covered chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. He secured her against him but his hands didn’t venture below the corset. One finger traced the embroidered clothtrail thoughtfully.

“Are your thoughts wandering?” she asked with more trepidation than she’d like. He smiled and the lines of the tattoo that had been on his face for as long as Erza could remember, crinkled.

“When I’m away from the palace, my thoughts are ever wandering but not tonight. They have nowhere else to hunger for when I’m with you.” He first kissed her with the kind of sweet devotion one expected from the blossoming love of youth – but his second kiss stirred the fire in her soul. She rose on one foot and her knee slid further onto the mattress. Erza marveled – as always – at how he fit so impossibly perfect between her legs. Perhaps they’d been formed in the womb with one another in mind.

“Were you in danger?” she breathed when his mouth dropped first to her shoulder.

“I’m always in danger.” He sucked lightly on the skin of her neck and Erza shivered.

“My mother should –” Without warning he pulled back and his green eyes pierced hers.

“Use me at her convenience? There are places only I can go and missives only I can deliver. I am her willing servant.”

“But –”

“This is our dance, Princess.” His ever so light emphasis on her title stung her eyes. “Easy is a luxury those in our stations do not have.”

“She knows,” Erza whispered. He smiled.

“Of course she does, love. She knew long before I ever had the audacity to enter through the window.” Erza pursed her lips and inched her fingers under the body armor at his waist. She wanted it off. He obliged her and pulled the black turtleneck over his head before tearing the thick velcro straps from his shoulders. Once free of the kevlar, Erza pressed herself against him once more. The swell of her breasts spilled over the bust of her corset.

“What if –” The First General pressed his thumb to her lips and swiped the ruined lipstick away.

“What if, why not, how come… we could pose these questions forever.” He kissed her softly and Erza’s toes positively curled. “I would put your lips to better use.”

Before she could even lose her balance he was behind her with firm hands on her bare shoulders. His fingers deftly tugged on the laces of her corset. As it fell from her body his hands curved around her ribs to cover her breasts.

“The world is what it is, Erza.” Her eyes slid closed at the breath of her name on her neck. “Spending my nights with you is more than I have ever deserved. The Queen favors me and chooses not to have me executed for the crime of loving her daughter.” The tips of his fingers tickled the sides of her neck before picking through the coils of braids. “You are the most valuable thing to her. You are the reason the King has been cold in the ground since before you took your first step. She will let you keep me as long as you please.”

She wasn’t surprised at how quickly tangles of her hair whispered against her shoulders and back. The golden hairpins tinkled against the tiled floor.

“You aren’t my plaything,” Erza said quietly. He gathered the crimped mass of scarlet to one side and kissed her neck again. His lips found the shell of her ear.

“No?” he asked, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “It is all I aspire to be.”

When Erza’s back hit the mattress he kissed her with bruising force. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she realized he’d – at some point – left his pants and boots behind. The First General had always distracted her so. She arched her back and he took the pink tip of her breast into his mouth. Erza grasped at the tufts of blue hair and pulled him to her lips. He exhaled against her mouth when he entered her and his fingers dug into her thigh.

Erza didn’t give him time to catch his breath before shoving him to his back and perching on his hips. She moved in a slow rhythm taking in every flutter of his lashes and every twitch in his belly. The quilted pattern of her duvet would leave a mark on her knees but Erza was unconcerned.

He was a thorough but demanding lover. As quickly as she’d unseated him, he grabbed her waist and flipped her around, the last of her lipstick smeared on the duvet. His front was hot against her back and his fingers between her legs, unapologetically nimble. He dragged her over the terrible ledge of her desire in a moment that felt too swift for comfort. A hand planted in the mattress near her head and Erza craned to press a kiss to his wrist.

“Jellal,” she breathed, the air stirring the moisture on his wrist and sending a chill down his arm. Erza never said his name beyond the confines of her bedroom. She couldn’t. One day, perhaps, but for now he would remain First General Fernandes of the Secretum Oficii.

His body fell to the bed beside her and Erza shifted into his waiting arms. Just below his shoulder was a still-pink scar. She touched it lightly before pressing a kiss to the spot.

“Does it still hurt,” she whispered.

“Not as much as the other outcome.” His eyes fixated on hers with a humor Erza didn’t think appropriate.

“I don’t like to think about you dying.” She clasped her fingers around his wrist when he cupped her cheek. His lips curled into an affectionate – but exhausted – grin.

“Then don’t.” He kissed her once before pulling her against his chest. She thought for sure she heard him whisper her name once more before, “I love you more than my whole life.”

[christsbride]

Depravity on Display

Romans 1

Paul's exposé of depravity in Romans 1:18-32 is a chilling account of human wickedness, a vivid pen-portrait of unleashed unrighteousness, unashamed godlessness, and unnatural lust. Reaching the final argument of his prosecution, the teacher from Tarsus twists the accusing knife with cruel eloquence: "and although they know the ordinance of God, that those who practice such things are worthy of death, they not only do the same, but also give hearty approval to those who practice them" (Rom. 1:32).

This came home to me anew as I read about a scam that took place in New York City when some con men decided to make some extra cash by feeding on the depravity of humanity. Naturally, they made a killing.

They got a pile of cardboard boxes, newspapers, stickers that read "Factory Sealed," a roll of bubble plastic, and a stack of stolen shopping bags from Macy's. They stuffed each box with bricks and newspapers until it weighed enough, then wrapped everything in bubble stuff and affixed the stickers. As the evening rush-hour traffic backed up at the Holland Tunnel, the con artists started wandering the curb, carrying the bogus boxes inside the Macy's shopping bags. When they spotted a potential buyer stranded in traffic, they walked up to the car window and started fast-talking a cash deal.

"Hey, man, I got a Sony Handicam here . . . just got if off a FedEx truck." He lifts the box out of the bag, saying, "Macy's sells 'em for $999." Then, jerking his head around nervously, he says, "I'll take 90 bucks, cash."

The cars start to edge forward and the other drivers start yelling. The thief delivers his final pitch: "Okay, man, I'll let you have it for $45. Take it or leave it."

And the driver takes it, knowing it's hot merchandise.

When asked about how it feels to rip people off, selling them empty boxes, one of the men said, "Hey, man, I'm not beating an honest man. No one buys hot unless they've got larceny in their heart."

I must admit . . . the guy's got a point! The fella who grabbed the box and sped off into the night was just as guilty as the thief on the street, and, along with that, his money gave "hearty approval" to the one who ripped him off.

Happens all the time. The details change, but it's still depravity on display. Furthermore, no one is immune. In fact, the possibilities of appealing to our old nature are endless.

What kind of deals do you make when no one is looking? Are you, right now, aware of wrong and giving hearty approval to another's sin?

Taken from Day by Day with Charles Swindoll by Charles R. Swindoll. Copyright © 2000 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. Used by permission of Thomas Nelson. www.thomasnelson.com

from Chuck Swindoll's Daily Devotional https://ift.tt/2FshfpM via IFTTT

[sensitivefern]

From the tablets of Assurbanipal we get the Babylonian account. Here the great God, Enlil, offended by man’s wickedness, decides to destroy him with water, but Ea, the god of wisdom... overhears his plan and tells Utnapishtim about it. This good man, like the Sethite Noah, is tenth in line from the first man, and, like Noah, walks with Ea. The latter advised him to forsake all else and build a boat, not just for himself and family, but large enough to hold all the beasts and birds and creeping things. No sooner was it built and all things stored within than a great storm arose, so great indeed that even the lesser gods ‘trembled in fear’. For six days and nights it lasted and on the seventh it stopped. Meanwhile the boat had floated about until it came to rest on Mount Nisir. Now Mount Nisir is between Medea and Armenia and thus is practically identical with Ararat.

In this story Utnapishtim waits ‘seven days’ and send out the dove, swallow, and raven... When the latter fails to return Utnapishtim knows the land is dry and so opens the boat and debarks. Immediately thereafter he builds an altar and offers incense upon it. The gods smell the ‘sweet savor’ and gather around; and here it is that Mother Ishtar hangs out her colored necklace, the rainbow.

[Deceptions and Myths of the Bible]

===

One more biographical item must be evident already. It was surely not only a liking for independence which took Walt so early out of the family and kept him there, except for brief periods, throughout his life. There is no more consistent record of devotion to a family than Walt’s – it is probably unique among poets, who do not usually like their families. Yet his close relatives, with the exception of his sister, Hannah, understood nothing of his life work.

[Henry Seidel Canby]

===

The Klan wasn’t the only one worrying about Jews.

...Henry Ford had his own ideologies and ambitions. In December 1915, he had funded an ill-fated peace mission to Europe, derisively dubbed the ‘Peace Ship’... On January 11, 1919, the first issue of Ford’s weekly newspaper, the Dearborn Independent, rolled off the presses. A year later, it had yet to cause a stir... When losses hit the $284,000 mark, Ford demanded a change. On May 22, 1920, the Independent ran the first installment, ‘The Jew in Character and Business’, of a ninety-one-part series, ‘The International Jew: The World’s Problem’.

[1920: The Year of the Six Presidents]

===

I had, before my first trip abroad in 1908, when I was already nearly thirty years old, little contact or sympathy with Germans, and my acquaintance with German literature, and even with German history, was of the meagerest. I recall well how, in preparation for my Nietzsche book, I had to bone up on German philosophy, and how dull I found most of it, not to say repulsive. My reading had been almost wholly in English literature, even at the expense of American, and I was so soaked in it that the high point of my... trip... was not my visit to Leipzig, the old home of my family, but that to London, where I was genuinely thrilled when George Fawcett took me down the Strand to the Temple and showed me the haunts of Thackeray and the grave of Oliver Goldsmith.

[H.L. Mencken]

===

woad | Isatis tinctoria Biennial; hardy to zone 4... bushy... self-seeds readily; if gathering volunteer seedlings, move them to another place, as woad ‘exhausts the ground’... ‘Woad is interesting visually, especially with its deep purple seedpods’... woad was the chief source of blue dye before indigo came to the fore in the 19th century... the plant is poisonous, though in times past it was given to people who had the mumps – and the success rate was one hundred percent...

jasmine | Jasminum officinale Bush with climbing tendencies... the flowers are famously fragrant... its origin was probably in Persia... said to be hardy to zone 6... propagate by cuttings and layering... soil should be ‘rich, light, sandy, and well-drained’ – and moist, but not too moist...

===

Canada lily | Lilium canadense ‘When I am asked to recommend the lily I most admire, regardless of provenance or hybridization, this without fail is my answer’... they rise to 6 ft. or more in height and don’t necessarily need staking... if the summer is relentlessly hot and dry, it may commit suicide... moles and voles sometimes munch on the smallish bulbs... it wishes full sun and consistent moisture...

lupine | Lupinus The Russell hybrids are the standards – ‘these became the lupines of choice in horticulture for their many colors and forms – and because growers could easily raise them from seed’... the sundial lupine (Lupinus perennis) is native to eastern North America; easy to establish and will reseed if the soil it grows in is well-drained and on the sandy side... flowers are fragrant... after flowering, the plants will go dormant or expire... ‘Suzy Bales... finds that sundial lupines do wonderfully well in her Long Island garden, where they reseed abundantly in both her wood-chopped paths and the raised beds of her vegetable garden, where she originally planted them. “Why would anyone struggle with Russell lupines when you can grow these with so little effort?” After seeing her plants, I have become a born-again lupian’... this species is the sole host for a butterfly known as the Karner blue; continued hybridization of the sundial lupine may mean goodbye Karner...

[Armitage’s Native Plants]

===

❚Chuck Barris, 'Gong Show' and 'Dating Game' creator and self-proclaimed CIA assassin, has died at age 87

David Frum Manafort refused salary from Trump campaign - a reminder that when Trump people work “without pay,” they are being paid by somebody else.

Styrofoam Coffee Cup From Omaha Excited To Finally See Pacific Ocean

Sears, the hardware store at the dustiest corner of a nearly-abandoned mall that for some reason sells panties, is currently knocking on retail heaven’s door. But at least it’s got some company in the former of its corporate sister, Kmart!

...The spinner had all but one letter in his clue: “A Streetcar Na-ed Desire.” Most people would easily be able to fill in the “m” to complete the title of Tennessee Williams' 1947 Pulitzer Prize-winning play. Instead, our unlucky contestant went with a “k,” forming the non-existent, possibly inappropriate “A Streetcar Naked Desire.” Host Pat Sajak’s drawn-out “no” was the only acceptable response.

Dallas Green, who led Phillies to ’80 World Series title and also managed Yankees and Mets, dead at 82

Your search - Mary Phlügh - did not match any documents.

Puppies! Joe Biden! Puppies Named ‘Biden’ Meeting People Named Joe Biden!

Trump asked for tanks at his inauguration, email reveals

Conflict Kitchen closing Schenley Plaza eatery

How long until all species are named after David Attenborough? A 430m-year-old fossilised shrimp from Herefordshire has become the latest species to be named after the broadcaster, joining the pygmy locust, semi-slug, rubber frog, Amazonian butterfly...