#if prayer is something you do please pray that all the children who have their hearings tomorrow are approved

[grannie-nasty]

So I’m doing court watch tomorrow and it’s juvenile decerts which is basically some poor kid’s lawyer trying to get them moved from adult court back to juvenile court and I am anticipating that it’s going to be extremely hard to see

[togrowoldinv]

The Retreat

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda

Note: I have missed writing for this Wanda! Can’t get her out of my head lately. Y’all enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, sad Wanda, oral and fingering (W receiving), age gap

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you were asked to go on a women’s retreat, you immediately wanted to say no. The only reason you even go to church is to appease your parents. But it’s the final retreat of the year and you are expected to attend at least one.  

So, you find yourself now waiting by the church bus to load up. You watch as mothers say goodbye to their children and wives kiss their husbands. One family in particular catches your eye.  

The Maximoffs. Wanda, the matriarch, is a good friend of your mothers. They just moved to town a few years ago, but have made quite an impression in the town. Her husband travels for work, so Wanda is often found alone at the church service while her twin boys are in class for the children.  

You wonder how a man could ever leave a woman like that alone. She is definitely the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Some part of you has been attracted to her since you first laid eyes on her.  

Wanda gets on the bus and sits a few seats from you. She gives you a small wave. You put in your headphones to try and drown out the world. The drive only lasts a few hours and soon you’re at the retreat.  

You check in and get your room key. It doesn’t take long to figure out that you will have a roommate when you open the door and see there are two beds. You're praying it’s not one of the older ladies or someone in your peer group who you can’t stand.  

The prayer is answered when the door latch opens and none other than the one and only Wanda Maximoff walks in.  

“Well, hi y/n!” She says. “I didn’t know we were roommates.”  

“Hey Mrs. Maximoff. I didn’t either.”  

“Oh please call me Wanda. This weekend we are peers, sweetheart,” she says.  

She puts her bags on the bed next to the window. Sitting on the bed, she looks around the room. Wanda spots an itinerary on the bedside table.  

“Looks like a busy weekend,” she analyzes. “We should get going to the first session.”  

“Oh, I was thinking I would just rest tonight,” you reply.  

“Nonsense, y/n,” Wanda says. “You came all this way. You might as well try and enjoy it. I know you aren’t feeling the spirit these days, but let me try and do something about that, okay?”  

Your pulse quickens. How can she see right through you? Maybe she’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s worse and your mother asked her to look out for you this weekend.  

She stands and waits for you to join her. You sigh and follow Wanda out the door.  

The first session goes better than you thought it would. At least the food was good and the middling company was made a little better by Wanda’s presence.  

When you get back to the room, it is freezing cold in there. You notice Wanda shivering even in her sweatshirt and sweatpants she has on for bed. Still, you both try to go to sleep for the night.  

At some point though, you get a feeling someone is watching you while you sleep. Or more accurately, as you try to sleep in the arctic environment. Your eyes flutter open to see Wanda sitting up in her bed.  

“What time is it?” You ask her.  

“Early,” Wanda replies. Her voice is gravely, and if you think about it too much you might even be turned on by it.  

“Are you cold?”  

She nods. “The heat isn’t working. I tried, but can’t fix it.”  

You roll out of bed and walk to the thermostat on the wall. Wanda follows you and stands close behind you. You can hear her breathing as you investigate the issue.  

“Can you fix it?” She asks.  

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” you reply. Wanda sighs.  

You turn around and Wanda is still very close to you.  

“We have one option here,” she begins. “To sleep together.”  

“Oh,” you mumble. “We- um-”  

“We could snuggle and then our body heat will keep us warmer,” Wanda further explains. “What do you say?”  

“Okay.”  

“Okay,” Wanda says.  

She leads the way to your bed hoping since it’s the one away from the window it’ll be a little bit warmer. Wanda crawls into the bed and pulls the covers down. She waits for you to join her. You get into the bed cautiously, keeping a little distance between you two.  

“Come on closer, baby. I don’t bite,” Wanda says. She grins at herself.  

You get closer to her and she wraps an arm around your waist. You drape one of your arms across the pillow and she positions herself with her head between your neck and shoulder. Admittedly, it is warmer with the two of you snuggling together.  

Eventually, you both fall into a deep sleep and the snuggling becomes more relaxed. It feels natural when the two of you wake up in the morning still intertwined.  

“Good morning,” you say softly, trying not to get lost in her green eyes.  

“Good morning,” Wanda says. Her face is close to yours. You can practically see every detail of her perfect face. “We should get ready for the day.”  

“Right,” you say, breaking out of your trance. “Of course.”  

You two break apart and you miss her warmth already. When you two show up at breakfast, several people are already in the room.  

“Wanda! Y/n! Join our table!” The leader of the women’s group calls you both over. “How did you two sleep?”  

“Quite well,” Wanda replies. “It was cold, but we made do.”  

“Oh, we can have someone look at your heat,” the leader replies.  

“Thanks that would be-” you start, but are interrupted.  

“That’s alright,” Wanda says, placing a hand on your forearm. “We are okay.”  

It's a strange response, but you try not to read into it. She probably just doesn’t want to cause any trouble. The breakfast lecturer starts soon and your attention shifts.  

At the end of the day, you and Wanda find yourselves sitting in your room once again. Dinner isn’t for another hour, so you are just waiting around.  

“Should we work on our exercises?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence.  

“What?”  

“The vulnerability exercises we talked about today in the final session,” Wanda explains.  

“Oh, sure.”  

Wanda smiles. She sits on the edge of her bed and pats the spot next to her.  

“I’ll go first,” she says. 

“Remind me of the rules,” you ask.  

“We reveal something to each other that no one else knows. So that we can release it and let the weight go.”  

You nod. You have no idea what Wanda might say. Her life seems perfect.  

“Vision left me,” Wanda blurts out quickly.  

“What?” You ask in shock. “Wanda, I- what happened?”  

You hadn’t seen them interact much, but you never assumed that he wasn’t still in the picture. Just that he had been traveling.  

Wanda looks down, playing with the ring on her finger. You can tell she’s holding back tears.  

“Wanda, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I'm really sorry.”  

“No, it might help if I do,” Wanda says. “Things just got bad. They went from okay, to maybe not so good, to fuck we’re over.”  

Your eyes go wide. Never have you ever heard Wanda curse like that.  

“How long ago was it over?”  

“A few months,” Wanda says.  

“And you haven’t told anyone?”  

She shakes her head. “I just keep saying he’s away on business. The truth is he hasn’t touched me in almost a year.”  

“So, that snuggling we did last night was?” 

“The first time I’ve remotely been that close to someone in a year.”  

“Jesus,” you mumble. She doesn’t even scold you for using the Lord’s name in vain. “Can I hug you?”  

You figure she needs human connection now more than ever. She nods and you take Wanda in your arms. She melts against you. Tears fall down her face and soak into your shirt.  

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly to her. “You’re okay, Wanda.”  

“I’m not,” she says through sobs.  

“You will be,” you reply. “I’m here for you. My parents are here for you. All of these stupid, annoying women here are on your side too, okay? We won’t let you fall.”  

Wanda pulls away some and looks at you. You run your hand through her hair and brush your thumb against her cheek gently. She leans in just enough for you to know what’s about to happen.  

“Wanda,” you say. She keeps moving forward. “Mrs. Maximoff.”  

That makes her stop. She looks at you with confusion in her eyes.  

“I just want you. Do you not want me, baby?” Wanda asks.  

“Oh, of course I want you. I just haven’t done the exercise yet.”  

“Oh?”  

You take your other hand and pull her closer by her hip. Your lips are almost touching.  

“My secret is that I really, really want to kiss you right now and fuck you until you forget about your loser ex-husband who never deserved you in the first place,” you say.  

Wanda closes the gap between the two of you. Her lips move fervently against yours. You can tell she’s desperate.  

“When’s the last time he kissed you like this?” You ask between kisses.  

“Never,” she replies.  

You smile into her mouth and move to push her back onto the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist as you pin her arms above her head.  

“Fuck, Wanda, you are the most beautiful woman alive,” you tell her.  

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says. It's her final effort at not letting herself feel as good as he deserves to feel. You move your hands off of her just briefly.  

“We should do this, but I'll stop if you really don’t want this,” you tell her.  

“No, I- we just can’t tell anyone, okay?”  

“Yes ma’am.”  

You put your hands back on her. This time, you go straight for the buttons of her jeans. You kiss down her chest and around her belly. Deftly, you pull down her pants and panties in one fell swoop.  

Wanda shivers beneath the feeling of your wet lips against her hips and as you brush your nose lightly against her core.  

“Oh, god, y/n,” she whimpers.  

“So wet for me, Wanda,” you say. You dive into her core with your tongue. Her folds are intoxicating as you bring her more pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life.  

“I need you,” Wanda says. “Please, baby. Please!”  

You take Wanda’s clit in your mouth and move your fingers into her in tandem. She is writhing beneath your touch.  

“Come for me, Mrs. Maximoff,” you say as you feel her reaching her climax.  

“Fuck!” Wanda comes hard against you.  

You lick her as she comes down and move up her body slowly. You lie next to her and kiss her cheek softly. The juxtaposition of that soft kiss and what you were just doing between her legs makes her heart flutter.  

“Are you okay?” You ask her. She is staring at the ceiling.  

“Yes,” she replies. “Thank you for everything.”  

“Anytime Wanda,” you say. You ignore the ache between your legs, knowing Wanda needs time to process this. “Should we go to dinner?”  

“Oh, I guess so,” she says.  

You sit up, but Wanda grabs your arm before you can stand.  

“I want to fuck you later, okay?” Wanda says. “I just-”  

“Need a minute,” you finish for her.  

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. It’ll be worth the wait I promise.”  

Wanda kisses you deeply before she gets off the bed to get cleaned up. You watch as she walks with a new bounce in her step that she didn’t have before.  

Maybe this retreat will be interesting after all.  

[thrashkink-coven]

Besties listen to me. Ok. Please hear me out. I am not a gatekeeper. We don’t gatekeep around here. Gatekeeping is hate keeping okay. You can get into the craft at any age regardless of your abilities etc etc. Elitism in occultism and spirituality is stupid ok.

BUT!!!

This is just a friendly reminder and fair warning ? (not warning because this isn’t scary) this is a message.

You don’t have to devote yourself to a deity if you don’t want to. Like, you’re allowed to just revere a deity without becoming a devotee.

Devotion is pretty intensely binding and long term.

There are many deities that I have worked with, or even worship(ped), who I am not a devotee of like Dionysus or Lilith, Azazel. Even with a deity like Horus, who I absolutely love and revere and even set altar space aside for, I wouldn’t say I’m a devotee of Horus because we haven’t taken vows or established a contract. I just… love them. and that’s p much it and that’s okay!

Im not devoted to Anubis or even Hecate (YET) because I haven’t put in that fucking work with them as I have with Lucifer or Aphrodite, and that’s okay too. It takes quite a long time. That’s the exact reason why I haven’t devoted myself to Hecate yet, I haven’t nearly gotten to the level of familiarity with her to do something THAT binding, it’s like a sort of marriage.

And likewise, I am still in the process of initiation with Leviathan, we’re taking it slow. I’m technically not even fully devoted to Hermes yet either.

You guys have seen my altar, I spend a significant part of my daily life working with and worshipping Lucifer because he’s my Patron. I don’t “have to” but I do pray and write to him every day. I make offerings to him every day, I wear his talismans, I think about him every day. More than any other deity that I work with, because I’m his, by vow. Not every deity that I am devoted to is always around me, but my Patron is. If not in spirit than in my prayers and heart.

Now this isn’t to say you have to have a big extravagant altar or spend a ton of time constantly worshipping a deity to be a valid devotee, we all decide what level of involvement we want to have. But do be warned, especially if it’s your first time, many deities do take it very seriously. Betraying that level of trust is not something I would advise.

You don’t have to be that involved with a deity if you don’t want to or you’re just not ready yet.

Kids, children, I’m talking to you, MINORS,

Again, no gatekeeping we don’t gate keep, HOWEVER. Be informed.

If you wouldn’t feel comfortable getting a Lucifer tattoo (or something of an equivalent permanence because not everyone likes the idea of body modification, you know what I’m trying to say) you might want to just wait until you’re a little taller, older and wiser to make the decision to devote yourself to him. Of course there are those of us that don’t care about permanence and want to cover our entire bodies with ink before we’re 25, in which case, do as thow wilt. I’m talking to minors specifically right now though, because I know that I would not have been aware and mature enough to devote myself to Lucifer in my teens. Maybe I was a dumb teenager, but the idea of a child being devoted to a deity gives me a similar feeling to how I feel when I see child marriage. It’s not the same, but it somehow kinda is. Just! be smart with your soul.

You’re still fully welcome and encouraged to honour and work with your deities, remember that there was never any rule that said you had to make contracts and whatnot to work with a deity. Make whatever altars you want. However, if you are making the decision to be patroned or devoted to a deity, you better be damn confident in that decision.

A prayer to Lucifer from me typically has verses along the lines of “I invite you into my body, mind and soul, I forever devote myself to you, you are eternal in my heart” etc, because I’m his devotee. I feel very safe saying that, those words bring me comfort. This isn’t to say I’m not allowed to grow or change my mind, but at least as of right now, I’m in it for the long haul baby. If you’re not at the place where you feel comfortable saying that to your deity yet, don’t force it, don’t fight it, that’s when things start going wrong.

You are more than allowed to just adore the fuck out of a deity without being devoted to them. I still work with Azazel and Hecate and other entities, I simply do not have the time (or energy) in my life to be devoted to so many deities at once. I’ve only ever given blood to one deity, and that’s my Patron.

I’m Lucifer’s bitch, I think I always will be. If you are lucky enough to be favoured by a God that you love that much then that’s awesome, but not being a devotee doesn’t mean you aren’t loved or just as important to your God. Be chill, go with the flow, and everything will be fine.

💋

[pascalsbby]

The Devil & His Brother

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I : 6.4K / Part II

Summary: The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.” He would get down on his knees and pray to your altar. He would bless it first, kiss it clean, before he would send two fingers to spread open your love.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, eventual smut. enemies to lovers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, drugs/pills/alcohol, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH miller brother’s instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & the devil himself.

This was a labor of love, please comment, reblog, & let me know what you think <3

I will take a crowbar and pry out the broken pieces of God in me.

- Anne Carson

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Your soul was given to another man before you had even yearned for the rage to scratch it back yourself- have a choice in the matter of your own eternity. Two eyes looking down upon you, gazing into the depth of your skull. Where the fuck was he, when his children were screaming on their knees for his forgiveness, for whatever they had done to deserve this?

You couldn’t remember your own baptism- despite seeing countless bodies pushed underwater, coming back anew. Later in life, not coming back up at all. Drowning sinfully sin-less. You were thankful now, that the hard stuff was done when you weren’t old enough to know it- or deny it. You wouldn’t have washed yourself clean for him, drown for him, now.

You were angry at him- you had every right to be. You were utterly alone in a world that was trying to devour you whole by sinking one tooth into any part of your tender flesh. Your eternal soul was saved (given) to a hand in the sky before you even knew what a God was, what he was capable of, what he would allow, and you had suffered for it during life. But now, when it mattered most, you didn’t have to do a goddamn thing but lay here and die. Yet he wasn’t doing his part. What a fucking surprise.

He never came like all the people said he would, like the Bible said. There was no reckoning. Even he was too scared of what he created.

“I ain’t no God, sweetheart.” The sound reverberated through his throat in a sickly Southern accent. He might as well have been. His thick arms were the ones holding you, warming you against the soft flannel. You haven’t been touched by another human in a long time, and the veins running through his arms were suddenly whispering love stories into your own running blood. His hands were so big.

They refused your pleas. “Please, if you don’t do it just hand me the gun.” Always met with a thickly harsh, “don’t think so,” from the one who shot you. The younger one is somehow quieter than the first. You had been full of anger for years, but it didn't seem as heavy as it normally would, despite barking, “You already tried once and failed, let me do it myself then.” He looked at you, surprised that you wasted your breath in such a manner, it had barely come out of the back of your throat to begin with. He huffed a laugh as he turned his head back to his brother before looking straight into the dark night again, focusing on something that wasn't even there. Focusing on anything that wasn’t you.

You were used to men not following through. Your father was the ‘savior’ (born-again post-outbreak pastor)(liar) of a small group, all now a couple of feet underground, frozen in the decomposing water of themselves- and whoever was lucky enough to be thrown in the dug-up hole on top of them. Baptized over and over as the ground warmed in the spring and froze again in the winter. Perpetually drowning until they become what they were trying to escape all along- food for the earth to devour.

We didn’t burn them, because that would have given us away, invited anyone near to pluck the last of us out, but fire would have been easier. But we don’t do easy, not here. We gather whoever is responsible for your already rotting body and make them throw you into the ground, all in the name of God. You had written a lot into your leather-bound notebook, at first not wanting to fill the pages, because once the paper was gone, there was nowhere else to rip the thoughts out of your head, let them bleed through the pages. You read that specific entry over and over, having memorized it by now, making crinkles in the dusty pages from how many times you turned back to it and prayed to a God that wasn’t there to save them- you.

He was never planning on it.

Your journal was the same color as the Devil’s eyes, darkened honey-brown, alive. You didn’t have many places to look whenever you did have enough spite in you to open your own, body swaying from side to side on a horse that wasn’t yours, in a man's lap that you didn’t know. He looked pretty, even from below, even more so leaning his chin downwards towards your face and gazing up your body. I guess anything safe looks heavenly amidst fire.

Why would they do that? Kill you and then take you along for the ride. They hadn't spoken much for however many days you had been dying, watching as the sun kissed the sky goodnight and welcomed the moon, at least three times. Maybe you were bait for something even bigger- a young woman goes a long way these days. Always has, really.

You had always harbored a deep fear of death. It wasn't exactly the physical suffering that frightened you, but rather the haunting notion of losing loved ones. The consequences of deviating from the life path thrown on you by your parents. There was always this looming presence of the ‘evil’. The Devil… Lucifer, Satan, whatever moniker you choose. In the narrative your parents scripted for you, he was cast as the villain. It was all too funny now, his thighs warming your skin, setting you ablaze.

Lucifer was a beautiful, Southern gentleman- one who spoke quickly and stern. And God sat right next to him, mouth shut, waiting for command. You were so tired of following orders from men but suddenly it’s as if you’ve known all along that his gaze would be the one you melted under. Sludge. Burning flesh. Maybe there was no God. Sure, the other man who sat next to him looked like one, but so does this one. He was an idea, the fear instilled in you, your parents' guilt. But you knew evil more than you knew true good, and the Devil was below you, only cementing that truth further. He was keeping you right here, draped across his lap, and despite your dying, he still caught glimpses of your naked flesh. And you didn’t know if it was eyes burning into you, or the gunshot wound he had so nicely gifted you. You almost wanted to thank him, if that’s what it took for him to wrap himself around you.

Romans 6:4 hung on a carved board in your parent's room after the first wave of death. After your father decided that the group needed someone to lead them, and that your mother wasn’t it, she sat back happily and carved words into worn wood. You had felt safe there, sixteen and under the guise of whatever your parents told you. Young, naive, pure.

‘We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. We’re now dead to the power of sin. Being raised from the water.’ It later hung in the main room of a run-down grocery store turned Church. The church itself was down the street, the rotten door holding in rotten bodies from whoever had come before. Maybe they had sat and awaited the way you all did at first, waiting for their savior. He never rang the doorbell, never knocked. He had just walked right on by, whistling his hymns and being grateful he was above it all.

A new life? If Jesus died for our sins, wouldn’t he be upset with you right now? Laying on your… death horse…. And still not bruising your knees for him? Why can’t he be angry enough to let you slip out of line and take the easier way? I guess suffering wasn’t his go-to, at least outwardly. Fear was more his thing, and fear would eat you alive and cement your veins before true sin ever could. Guilt is what gnaws at your ankles, whispering poetry into your hair. Fear had passed. Anger had too, momentarily. Rage was a common home.

He should have taken you by now, held your hand and kissed your forehead goodnight. But you knew that he wasn’t coming. He never came for your parents either, nor your brother. You waited each time by their bodies, but he never called, never even picked up the goddamn phone.

He promised resurrection to people who needed something to hang on to. Promises made to be broken. God was more comfortable than death. You repeated it over and over as a prayer to those who had lost someone. We all have. Your dads own voice booming through the quiet. Now, you are losing yourself.

But really, there was no more you, not really. Maybe the horse knew too, bucked you off, and laughed as you felt the thud of the ground under your shoulder blades, because suddenly there was no air left in the entire dwindling world. The snow that was kicked up into your face from the weight of your body wasn’t melting as it would have before. You were cold. There was no world. There was just endless pain before a bout of relief. Not even enough to fill your lungs in one breath in or out. Even the horse knew you were dead weight. Every animal fighting for its survival. That’s why you were shot, too.

You scared the Devil and he took it upon himself to punish you.

At least that’s what you convince yourself as you lay dying on the cold, unforgiving ground, the weight of your pain bore down on your frail body- words trying to come out in shallow gasps. He wasn’t coming.

“Please,” you begged.

You heard shuffling, and then a shadow covered the setting moon above you. The all-to-familiar sound of his boots gaining on your still body. You could still smell him, had been able to this entire time you had been on his horse, in his lap. You could feel the pressure of his fingers rapidly squeezing your cheeks, feeling for blood flow, then the burning of his fingers on your neck, looking for signs of life amidst the dark night. Finally, he was touching you again. Maybe now he would kill you, too. His final gift.

“Fuck,” he hissed. That muttered obscenity made you feel more alive. “Get the fuckin’ horse away from her Tommy.” You heard the reins of the animal you were sat upon being pulled, and the hooves cascading further into the night. He returned to you, the coolness of his rings stung against your face, the cool air keeping them cold despite the warmth of his body. The bullseye tattoo, the only indication of who was touching you besides his smell. You had seen it multiple times throughout the rising and falling of the sun. It had cupped your body against his. He holds your face, as he leans into you, bullseye sitting right beneath your chin.

Throw a dart and it would hit you right in the throat- where you wanted him. Where you wanted him to breathe life into you again.

“Please. Help me go home.” Home hasn’t existed in years. You’d been unconscious for days.

“Shhh. No point in talkin' baby. Hurts too much. We’re goin’ home.” You looked up at him and despite the hardness of his exterior, you saw the understanding in his eyes. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared back into his skull.

Almost how a lighter ignites, flickers, warms, almost unbearable but not quite. The wind blows the fire to your fingers, stings, then disappears. As did his burning gaze. The feeling of putting out a cigarette as it shoves its last bit of self out into the world, smoke followed by nothing, simultaneously.

That was him, you would come to find out, as his silhouette and his own warmth flees from your touch. As the brown from his eyes turns to black as your own close. He sighs.

The snow crunches under his weight as he assesses how to pick you back up.

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere but where I take you. Got it?” A half-attempted nod before a sigh of pain.

You didn’t know where you were going- why, you were still alive… or whatever this in-between was. All you know is that you prayed to the Devil. And he answered.

He was the only one who ever answered.

-

The return to Jackson was painful, the remnants of a long-ago shattered world marred the landscape. As they neared home, the journey became colder, perhaps another reason why it remained a well-hidden place- not many people made it there alive. Joel and Tommy, ever vigilant, guided the two horses with unwavering resolve, constantly scanning the horizon for any indications of danger. Meanwhile, they carried the injured girl, whose body was only partially present after being thrown from the horse three days ago, blankets thrown atop. It had been five days since she was shot. Since Joel shot her.

The way you looked up at him every once in a while was breathtaking- it was too much of a painful reminder that he’d lost (or will lose) everything he’s ever cared about. He could see it in your eyes, the confusion of who and where you were. Watching life move through someone's body and out of their eyes used to be a victorious occasion. It meant he succeeded, that he was still alive regardless of the mangled bodies he left behind. But this felt different to him. You were so godamn young and he plays the scream ripping through your throat over and over an- he swears he didn’t pull the trigger. Joel's gruff voice broke through the haze of silence that had fallen upon them days ago and never left. He broke through his own circling thoughts. As he spoke to Tommy a mixture of concern and guilt for your being broke through, he felt it in his throat, his chest. He didn't want to be responsible for this death, but he sure as hell didn’t want to know you either. Because knowing someone only meant more pain.

“We've been carryin’ her for days, Tommy. How much longer can she hold on like this? No point in bringin’ a dead girl home.”

Denial was a motherfucker, wasn’t it?

Joel knew of death- he didn’t believe in shit besides such. He used to be a God-fearing man but knew if he ever had the chance to stand in front of him he’d rip him in two and gnaw on the pieces of his holiness.

-

Tommy knew of death too, even before the outbreak, but the difference was that he also believed in life. He knew exactly why Joel had that scar, even though they’d never talked about it. It was a quiet understanding, one he never pushed or even poked and prodded.

Tommy's response was laced with a fear, for what Joel had done, but empathy for what he knows he sees every single time he looks down upon you. "We're almost there, Joel. She's tough, you know that. She should have died from that wound but she’s still breathin’, that counts f’something. We'll get her to Jackson, n’ she'll have a chance." He kept looking into his brother's eyes before pulling away and looking ahead into the blinding white. If he said what he really wanted, he wouldn’t stop. “You fuckin’ shot her but now you want to save her? Make up your fuckin’ mind.” The least he could do is help him save someone, even if it’s just for Joel’s sake, especially after he couldn't save Sarah. ‘Least he could do is keep his mouth shut.

Joel was the last person he had- the only person. Ellie didn’t even love him like she loved Joel. It’s always the broken, harsh ones that receive the most attention. People spend so much time trying to put broken people back together that they don’t realize the others are teetering with one foot over the edge.

They’d gone outside the walls because funny enough, they thought it would be more safe this time of year, the dead of winter. Ellie had begged for months for the boys to take her out with them and show her this and that. She was getting homesick for a place she never truly loved. She was tired of sitting still inside walls of safety when everyone she had ever loved was buried outside of them. Tess came along too, providing an extra line of safety, ‘just in case’.

Tommy remembers Joel whispering, “There's somethin’ coming.” More so someone, you. A moment later, a gunshot, a thudding body. Joel was normally calm on the trigger, rifle in hand, looking down the barrel of the gun, aimed at his prey. But Ellie was there, Tommy, and Tess. His people. There was no time to fuck around, so he didn’t. Tommy understood. But that didn’t make it right in his head. His brother was never patient in the moments that mattered the most.

-

One evening, about ten hours from wherever the fuck they were taking you, the sun began to set, setting ablaze a warm glow over the frozen landscape. You had been awake, more so than the past couple of days, looking up at the moving clouds in the sky, watching as his chest moved and released more air into the sky, breathing visible and dancing in the cold. The horse beneath you abruptly stopped and the two men descended their spots atop of them, stretching their legs and gaining more control of their tired bodies.

“You’re awake,” the younger one let out, moving his focus from the soft mumbles he was giving to the other man. “‘Bout time we clean your wound again, see how it’s doing.” You let out a faint, “mm” and attempted to sit up. “No. We’ll get ya off the horse. Be still,” the other said. The Devil grabbed the water and reached up to you, his fingers moved across your face as he gathered your wandering hair and moved it away from your lips. He turned the canister upwards, slowly, letting you drink from it. “Thank you,” you managed. It was the first time he heard your voice not mangled with absolute fear. He stared, eyes roaming the silence, looking ever-so surprised that you had said anything at all, and so clearly at that.

The angel moved closer and reached out his hand, thinking now was a good time to introduce himself to you. “Tommy, Miller. This is my brother, Joel.” he looked toward him. Joel forced an upside-down grin and nodded his head toward you. “You…” pointing towards the one called Joel, “you shot me.” Silence followed, it was heavy, thick. “I didn- Thought you were dangerous, came around that corner too fast.”

“I wasn’t even armed, I-“

“Don’t wanna talk bout’ it.” he huffed, almost angrily. You opened your mouth again, wanting to rattle off one of three hundred questions that you had, but he looked you over once more, and then turned around and walked off. Tommy, with gentle hands, tenderly lifted your body off of the saddle and carried you towards the fire Joel was nursing. The crackling of a campfire and the scent of cooked food filled the air as they set to work, tending to your wounds with diligence that spoke to Tommy's belief that you would be okay (You had to be. He couldn’t fail Joel again. Couldn’t watch as his face fell with the realization that you were completely dead).

His fingers were deft as he cleaned your wounds, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He saw the goosebumps rise, and felt them, as the fire lit your skin. You caught glimpses of concern in his eyes, a silent reassurance that he was determined to see you through this. Joel's presence was a constant anchor, as he spoke into the fire, keeping it lit. They laid out blankets, far too many for just two people to be carrying alone, and sat you atop and below them.

The rest of the night had been filled with your echoing screams, Joel’s palm across your mouth, “Stop screamin’ or someone is gonna find us.” Sure, stop screaming while dirty, whiskey-cleaned fingers are prodding at your open wound. Not even a sorry moved past his lips.

Joel laid down on one side of you, Tommy on the other. “M’ sorry,” he whispered towards you. They both smelled of sweat and whiskey. Their chests rolled and fell at different times, Joel murmuring in his sleep once he finally stopped looking around the parameter. You could tell they were brothers.

-

It was night when the three of you arrived ‘home’. You heard a young girl's voice above the gathering crowd.

“Joel!” She parted the gathering crowd as the patter of quickening footsteps approached. His head whipped quickly, finding her immediately.

“What the fuck?”

“Ellie,” he warned.

“You can’t fucking do that Joel, I thought you…We made it home three days ago. Tess dragged me by my hair but I-”

“Good,” he huffed back, “Where is she?” Ellie blustered but gave up arguing.

Multiple men gathered around and took the blankets off your body, the air hissing through your torn clothes. You whimpered as they moved your body off of Joel’s horse. He didn’t say anything to you, instead he turned and followed Ellie out of the crowd, carrying the reins with him.

You were carefully carried to a bigger two-story home on the outskirts of the city. As the night turned towards the morning sun, you found yourself gaining strength. The length of the night had been blurry, chattering voices and hands, everywhere. Needles, bliss, whispers. Stripping you from the blood-ridden clothes and water pouring over your lips. Fingers, hands touching you, always caught in a delicate dance between stoic tenderness and warmth

‘Gonna be jus’ fine, baby.” Tommy had assured you, multiple times.

Suddenly it had been a week. They took turns caring for you, someone sleeping in the same room as you at all times in case you needed something. Always talking about “patrol shifts” and how Tommy was expected to be a leader of some sort. You had overheard a lot of conversations booming through the thin walls of the house. One hurting more than the others.

“Shouldn’t have fuckin’ brought her here in the first place. You know the whole town is gossipin’ about it right now. The Miller brothers bringing in another mouth to feed.”

“Stop it. Sh’can hear you Joel. You know that’s not how anyone thinks of it. She could help this place. Give her a chance.”

“She’s been practically fuckin’ unconscious for a week now, Tommy. You think she’s just gonna get right up n’ run the town?”

“Why did you take her in if you don’t even want to be responsible for her survival?” Tommy threw back at him. He regretted saying it immediately, watching as it hit Joel in the face before he closed his eyes and looked away. Joel was more so there to watch you and make sure you didn’t bleed into his wooden floor, while Tommy tried to provide as much comfort as possible. After realizing that this was Joel’s home, it made sense in what little you knew about him. There were few things on the wall, but there were remnants of him everywhere.

Ellie would come home and sit with you, read to you and then tuck you in after Joel carried you up the stairs and into his bed. You missed Tommy’s gentleness when it wasn’t there, but you missed the warmth from Joel's body, his lap, when he wasn’t there. His breathing, his nervous habit of cracking his fingers. Even though you could tell that every nerve ending in his body wanted you anywhere else but wherever he was- there was still a silent curiosity.

About a week and a half after your arrival, someone knocked on the front door of the tattered house and Joel called for Tommy up the stairs. He walked down them quickly, walking out of the front door with Joel.

He returned a few minutes later, looking at you sitting in the seat you hadn’t left in since you’d been there. He gave you a look, slowly looking towards the ground as he spoke up so you could hear him. “Gotta go for a couple of days. Heard there’s a group who probably followed us close to here, saw their smoke, gonna take care of them before they can make it any further.” You hadn’t spoken much, if at all, the past couple of days. You didn’t think you would make it this far, and now you were sitting with two strangers and a teenager in their house, rotting away. They had poked and prodded, trying to get any information out of you that they could, but you didn’t give in.

You stared out the window and answered meekly whenever spoken to, if at all. You should be ecstatic at the thought of finally being housed somewhere ‘safe’, somewhere with electricity and running water. Somewhere where they gathered the children and let them watch movies in the mess hall (all information coming from Tommy, telling you stories as he changed your bandages)- but you weren’t. You felt like you were still teetering on the edge of death. You felt like a burden to Joel.

You didn’t answer Tommy, just nodded. He packed up a few things and promised to ‘be back in no time, then maybe you can tell me your name.’ And then he was gone out of the termite-ridden front door.

You had fallen asleep, and awoken to Joel in another room somewhere, those same goddamn boots thudding against the creaking wooden floors. His presence was constant, every once in a while getting up from a creaking chair to come look at you. You slept, mostly. Ate the dinner he got from the dining hall. Your rage had returned. But baring your teeth in anger took energy you didn’t have.

-

Joel couldn’t look at you without feeling like he was looking straight through the blood and guts of you(r)(side). Tommy wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone about it before he left. How pretty you were, how there ‘weren’t many pretty faces left n’ you’re tryin’ to kill one?’ He watched as Tommy cooked you with his stare, warming his next meal only to put on his best-dressed suit and bail on the date before he could even pick up the tab. He was glad he was gone for a while, letting him forget about the fact that he had put the bullet in you. He loved his brother, but he knew his games. He knew his inability to stay.

Joel had nursed you back to… alive. At least. He hadn’t really thought about what that entailed after you were stable. He was surprised you were still breathing. He didn’t think about the feeding, changing, and bathing of you. Of hands touching flesh and natural bodily reactions to such.

You could tell he was the older brother. He held the normal stereotypes, sternly telling you what to do. The older one was always more serious, and stoic. The younger, who probably got away with more, but was the loneliest from eyes diverting. But his big brother was always there, begrudgingly present. And he was in this instance too.

Tommy had washed you multiple times before he left, but never your hair or the rest of you. He was more concerned that your stitches didn’t get infected.

Joel probably thought giving you a rag bath was wasting water, but did it anyway, probably tired of your stench in his bed. It’s cold until he heats the towel after noticing you shiver. “Let me draw you an actual bath. Think you can take one now.” He was softer at that moment, more gently with the way he wiped the towel across your chest. Those moments happened least expectedly. But when they did happen, it hurt even deeper. You felt something for him. And that just wouldn’t do. Rather it be lust, loneliness, or your raging fucking daddy issues.

Tommy likes the water cold, and Joel likes it burning to the skin. Of course, he does. He is all or nothing. Hot or cold. Soft or hard. He’s solitude but brings the same warmth of a front door opening to a sea of snow, chimney warm, lights warmer, hot chocolate, and bourbon- he is. In any other world but this one, he would probably be a good man; one to settle down with. One to hold you against himself, despite of raging night.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

a/n: Phew do I have plans for these three…

taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @bambydxll @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @med494 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @megangovier20 @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio

[gloriayang]

Prayers for Lennon, January 2024

To our family and friends,

This month is a big one for our family, especially for Lennon. He will be going in for a follow up CT scan tomorrow morning at Beaumont RO. This scan will show us whether his lungs have worsened, healed, or stayed the same. It will be the first time we’re seeing the condition of his lungs since August. The last scan showed an abnormal result — lots of holes and scarring on his lungs. We have been waiting for this scan and praying so hard to see improvement in his lungs. We want our baby to be on his way to healing and to experience life without the need for supplemental oxygen if it’s in God’s will for him. More than that, it’s our hope that this scan will give his pulmonologist and team of doctors new information. Up until now, they’ve been clueless in how to treat Lennon’s lung disease. We are hoping this scan offers new insight that gives his doctors a new angle to consider. We are anxious yet hopeful about his results and would appreciate prayers for strength and peace as we wait.

Following his scan, we’d also like to ask for prayer for Lennon’s upcoming appointment at C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital / UofM on January 9th. We are seeking a second opinion at UofM and we’re praying so hard that there is a doctor on their pulmonology team that has seen or cared for a baby like Lennon before. His lung disease is not a common one which has made it hard to find care for him. We are praying for just ONE doctor who knows how to treat Lennon or at least point us in the right direction.

We are growing weary from all the uncertainties. We don’t know what type of lung disease Lennon has or how severe it is — only that it’s interstitial lung disease (an umbrella term). We don’t know how life threatening the disease is. We don’t know how long we have with our baby. My own research tells us it’s between 3-5 years for babies born with ILD. We don’t know if he’s in pain or if he needs immediate intervention to give him the best chance at a long and healthy life. We need some definite answers to be at peace. We don’t want our baby to suffer more than he has to if there’s something we could be doing to help ease his pain now.

We’re preparing ourselves for changes following Lennon’s pulmonology appointment at UofM. We don’t know what will be required of us once he’s an established patient there. Whether we’ll need to make the commute to Ann Arbor often, or have Lennon readmitted for observation, or even be turned away…we’re just praying that the Lord provides us with what we need for every outcome.

Please pray for these specific things and anything else you feel led to pray for. We are so grateful for each of you and we couldn’t do any of this without your support and love. We will update you as we receive his results and process what it will mean for our family. Thank you so much.

All our love, Gloria and James

[indynerdgirl]

[Image Text: Please, please, please, if you even so much as glance at this post - share it for us and help us storm heaven!!! Our little girl needs a miracle and I beg any and every one of you to pray, pray, pray! Even if you don't know how to pray, please just ask God to heal Vianney’s brain. Now is the time for her miracle. We are devastated. Ever since we first found out about her diagnosis of left hemimegalencephaly, we have been praying and asking you all to pray that her right brain be spared. And you have shown up and helped us pray for this intention! All along the doctors have told us how strong and beautiful her right brain looked. However, this all changed sometime in the night between Friday and Saturday. At a time when we thought we were in the clear and were actually making plans to go home in a couple of weeks (!), something happened. The doctors can't explain it, they are looking into every avenue, as this was completely unexpected and unexplainable. She was awake. She was breathing on her own. She was moving. Shad was with her Friday night and video chatted me and I could not wait to see her the next day, finally alert! But suddenly very early that morning she took a turn and stopped responding. That's when her seizures started and they were indeed coming from the right side this time, due to whatever injury the right side sustained. They said her injury looks consistent with hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy but none of her vitals ever changed and her labs have remained great. There is truly no explanation at this time. My heart is broken. I cry out to God to understand why, in this final moment, when we were so close to her recovery, did this happen? I am trusting in Him with all my might and KNOW in my heart and soul that He is loving her far greater than I, but oh man I am absolutely broken. She has lost 40-60% of function in her right brain. Even typing it out and reading it in this post is too cruel to bear. They don't expect that she is in dire life threatening circumstances yet but they also can't say that her brain won't be injured further - since we still don't have a cause. Even if she survives all of this and is able to come home, we don't yet know what kind of life our little, beautiful perfect girl will have with only 25% of her brain. At this point, the most basic expectation is that she will not be able to walk or talk along with many other difficulties. She is outside of what they can do (other than trying to prevent more damage) and is truly in God's hands now. I told our priest yesterday before we got the full news - perhaps God is giving us the most dire of circumstances to give us the most miraculous of recoveries. In a world that needs to witness a miracle more than ever, I am praying to God that He show us one now. Please, please, please, keep praying for our Vianney - that her brain is completely healed and she can defy all medical expectations. And if now is the time for a miracle, then we are asking you to also beg for the prayers of the Blessed Ulma family. Soon I will share more about this incredible family, but for now we are asking them to pray along with us for our little Vianney’s miracle!]

Please storm heaven for my friend's little girl! 🙏

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Prayer for the Intercession of the Ulma Family

Almighty and eternal God,

We thank You for the testimony of the heroic love of the spouses Józef and Wiktoria with their children, who gave their lives to save persecuted Jews.

May their prayers and example support families in Christian life and help everyone to follow the true path of holiness.

Lord, if it is in accordance with Your will, kindly grant the grace for the complete healing of little Vianney, for which we are asking You through their intercession and count them among the Blessed.

Through Christ Our Lord

Amen

Our Father…, Hail Mary…, Glory Be…

[queerprayers]

can you please pray for a teacher of mine who has been very very important in my life? they've been out of school for a couple of weeks and haven't said why, only that they're going through something personal and would appreciate prayers. i care deeply about them and i've been so worried. if you could pray for them, or maybe if you know any prayers i could say, it would mean the world.

i know it's probably a bit silly to send this considering my first ask was only like an hour ago and you probably haven't even seen it yet, but this is the person who asked for prayers for my teacher. i've been praying all night, sobbing on my floor, probably looking like a crazy person reaching out above for some comfort from god. after sending that ask i just grabbed my bible and started reading out of sheer desperation to find something or anything that might comfort me, and somehow the first verse i saw was the beginning of psalm 77. "I cried out to God for help;     I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;     at night I stretched out untiring hands,     and I would not be comforted."

You've both been in my prayers, beloved. It hurts to feel helpless, but the psalms have a unique way of putting our desperation into words. They show us that crying out is holy, and is itself a form of prayer, that will be listened to and preserved through generations. You're not crazy--you're human, the same kind of human that we've all been for thousands of years, and the author of this psalm is with you.

I hope you kept reading. The psalmist asks whether the Lord will reject them forever--and then there's a turning point in verse 10: "Then I thought: To this I will appeal:" and then they remember God's miracles, list God's works, and specifically recall the liberation of the Israelites through the Red Sea. The psalmist doesn't say whether the specific reason for their crying is remedied, but that's not what the psalm is about. It's about honoring miracles in the face of hopelessness, reminding yourself what kind of God you worship, turning your attention to the ways in which the world has been saved.

It can be hard to pray when we don't know specifics--but as someone who prays for people and situations that I rarely know the details of on a regular basis, it is a beautiful form of prayer, and God does listen. God holds more than we will ever know, and knows what we do not. Your love for your teacher brings you to God, and God's love for your teacher fills all the unknowing.

My favorite intercessory prayer at night is this one:

Watch, dear Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, rest the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous, and all for your love's sake, Amen.

And here are a couple more from my prayer book:

Almighty and everlasting God, comfort of the sad and strength to those who suffer: Let the prayers of your children who are in any trouble rise to you. To everyone in distress grant mercy, grant relief, grant refreshment; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. O merciful Father, look with pity on the sorrows of [name], your servant, for whom we pray. Remember [them], O Lord, in mercy. Strengthen [them] in patience, comfort [them] with the memory of your goodness, let your presence shine on [them], and give [them] peace through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I pray for the things suffered that only those involved know about, the nights spent praying that feel like they will never dawn, the helplessness of knowing someone you love needs help, and the mercy of God present with us all. When all we can do is pray, we are doing everything by praying. I wish your heart the peace of God, and also honor the turmoil of caring for others. Both are held in our scriptures and our God.

<3 Johanna

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine you are a Danish woman who falls in love with Osferth.

Warnings: smut/fluff.

Inspired by: Rosalía’s “LLYLM”; “Dark Paradise” by Lana del Rey.

***

You are a daughter of Jarl H/N who died fighting side by side to Ragnar Ragnarsson. Because he was already a widow by the time he went to those wars against Wessex, this meant you had only an elder brother. Hence why Ragnar thought prudent to honor his friend by adopting his children.

Now here you are, reaching maturity with your long y/c locks, y/c smooth skin and y/c eyes that are deep, keeper of unspoken dreams. You are not very inclined to sword fighting, though you are an excellent archer and always carry a dagger by your side—as taught by Ragnar, whom you started seeing him as a stepfather as well as Brida as a sort of the mother you’ve never had.

There is something good in you that your beauty seems to highlight—and even Uhtred Ragnarsson was not oblivious to it.

“Not Y/N, Uhtred. This one is like my daughter”, said Ragnar with a smile on his lips. “Go look somewhere else.”

“She is beautiful”, Uhtred groaned. “But out of respect for you, I will behave.”

You prefer to surround yourself in quiet contemplation, hence why you are found nearby a river, giving praise to your Gods when you occasionally spot a male...completely nude.

"Oh", you exclaim, surprised, though unable to look away.

“My lady!”, the other one shouts back, trying to cover himself. “Do close your eyes!”

He runs to grab his clothes and you find yourself reluctantly to look away. The said male is so captivating—and you are not even concentrating your thoughts solely on his manhood, but his muscles, his broad shoulders and the naivety in his eyes.

Yes. It’s about those eyes, so pretty and filled with an unique goodness you’ve never seen before in any other before—and it’s not as if you are very experienced in these matters, since you always amused yourself with flirtations but never going beyond that.

You are still watching by the time this tall man with short hair whose beautiful pair of eyes captured you comes in your direction to apologize for his misconduct.

“My lady, I had no intention to offend you. Please, accept my apologies”, he speaks softly.

And just like that you swoon.

Am I a fool? Oh Gods, you make me turn into one.

“Apologizes?”, you tilt your head, smiling rather shyly. “What for, sir? I was careless for letting myself find you.”

The man blushes and you almost beam at such a sight.

“I do not think so, my lady. I should have been careful”, he mumbles under his breath and all you wish is that he looks at you.

“You are dressed now, so it’s all amended”, you remark amused. “I am Y/N Y/LN. May I ask your name, good man?”

He finally raises his eyes and you like how he seems to fight away his shyness to speak to you, hands behind his back.

“I am Osferth, my lady. Despite the circumstances, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Would you care to join me in prayers, Osferth? I think the Gods have a plan for me since you are brought to me.” You smile wide at his blush upon your cheeky words.

“I fear to say… well, not fear, but I am a Christian. I do not think Gods have decided to such an occasion happen.” But as your face falls, Osferth comes to realize he’s making himself a fool. “I do not intend to disrespect you. Please forgive me. I… I suppose we can each pray to our own?”

As you nod, Osferth takes a seat by your side and, as much as he tries to concentrate, he cannot help himself. For when you close your eyes and start to meditate, you don’t seem to notice his long stare at you. Mesmerized by your beauty, Osferth admires the shade of y/c that paints your locks, your smooth y/c skin, the curves your gown seems to reinforce…

It’s not after a long moment in silence that when you open your eyes, you notice it.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”, you ask, between intrigued and embarrassed.

To be under his gaze makes you experiment different sensations, both physical and emotional. You are frightened to find them out, unable to escape the somewhat mystical bonding between you two. A perception that has not escaped Osferth’s attention either.

“Are you an angel, my lady?”

“I’m sorry?”, you repeat, confused.

“An angel”, he whispers. “Sent by the Lord. You are the prettiest of the women I’ve ever seen. Surely you are not part of this world, this...common, mundane and filth place where only a sword makes one victor above all else."

His voice is melodical, sweet, carried with a gentleness you rarely find in other men. Though you always read old icelandic tales about stories filled with love, mixed with adventures (and here you have in mind the story of Aslaug and Ragnar, for example, which according to an old tradition of your folk, occurred about a century earlier), the men you encountered with buried your hopes.

"I would not like to disappoint you, good Osferth", you whisper back. "But methinks I am more of a mundane creature than a divine one, even though I believe that my Gods and yours brought us here for a purpose".

The two of you share a smile, but this sacred union of souls alike ends when Brida searches for you. And when she finds you two, she heavily sighs.

"Really, Y/N? Of all men who pursuit your hand, you incline to flirt with a Christian?!"

You blush and part the gaze, ready to stand as Osferth offers his hand for you to take.

"He is a good man, mother. Please do not speak ill of him."

"How can you tell he is good if you two just met?"

"For a start, he treated me respectfully. You know well the men of our tribe would have kidnapped me if they had the chance."

And just like that you convinced Brida that Osferth could never do any wrong to you. It is how things start between you two.

***

You and Osferth begin to spend a lot of time together. He teaches you how to read and to write, activities that impress you. Soon, you and him decide to write down the stories you've been told as a child. Osferth is surprised by your good memory, and how much he learns from you.

On the other hand, you help him with archery and when there is music, Osferth actually dances with you.

The sight of how you smile to each other makes Ragnar sigh and Uhtred wonder how on earth you never looked at him in the first places

“A Christian”, Ragnar mutters under his breath. “Of all men around here, Y/N decides to fall in love with a Christian man.”

“Baby monk”, Uhtred grumbles. “Though he is a good guy, a warrior with surprisingly good skills for a fucking monk, he is…”.

It’s Brida who speaks what’s in most people’s thoughts, though:

“Methinks it’s the fact Y/N chose Osferth over you that is making you sigh dramatically, Uhtred.”

Amidst teasings, it becomes very obvious to all that whatever is going on between the two of you goes beyond physical attraction. But for some reason you and Osferth seem shy about getting the first steps.

Until one day he invites you to see the stars. Whilst the tribe is drowning itself in excessive drinking, you—on this day, dressed in silk red gown with details in blue, a fancy gift your adopted father gave you, which was actually sent from lady of the Mercians, Æthelflæd, when they met in one of these occasions—are content drinking mead. Unlike your family, you don’t like to exceed yourself much. Little wonder why you and Osferth get along so well. It’s when he comes for you.

“Lady Y/N, my greetings. I understand you are busy, occupied with such a feast, but I was wondering if you’d like to see the stars with me.”

He speaks softly and though he can be bold in battle—growing so after countless incursions by Uhtred’s side—, when it comes to women Osferth lacks the confidence. As much as he tries to follow his friend in such manners, he fears he cannot find a place in between heathen-like warrior behavior and proper Christian mindset.

But whatever the struggle that ignites within, Osferth finds peace with you. He can be himself, aware that you don’t judge him for being an atypical warrior monk. Even so, however, he still believes that you’d prefer him to be bold like the men of your tribe.

“Why, of course, sir”, you beam, extending your hand to him. “I was starting to think if you would ever take me out of this boring feast.”

Osferth smiles quietly, looking down as his hand intertwines with yours.

“I thought you’d like to stay. I saw you were dancing earlier.”

“How come you did not ask me to dance?”, you ask him, shooting him a hurtful glance.

As you two pass the noisy salon, you and Osferth ignore the eyebrows raised of Ragnar and the smirk on Uhtred’s lips. Or how the Irish keeps nudging the latter’s arm, laughing quietly, all the whilst Brida rolls her eyes. To think the two of you are leaving unnoticed…

“You were already busy”, Osferth defends himself. “I assumed your partner was a better one… You do know how terrible I look when it comes to music.”

You poke his sides playfully before you are led to a quiet spot Osferth’s been wishing to take you.

“And you know I couldn’t care less about it”, you smile at him.

Osferth blushes, refusing to meet your gaze, but he smiles quietly. His heart races at your words and there is so much he wishes to tell you.

“So here we are”, Osferth points to the grass where there is an old piece of blanket over it. “Please forgive my…”

You throw your hands around his neck, cutting his words.

“Your kindness is more than I deserve. Thank you for looking after me, Osferth.”

He smiles warmly, openly this time. When the two of you are settled, he asks you:

“Is this of your liking?”

“To be with you is of my liking”, you tell at long last.

Perhaps this is the effect of three meads, but you don’t seem to care. Your body may be warm, but your soul has been aching for him. Osferth feels it too.

“Whatever my soul is made of”, he whispers, pulling you closer to him, “I believe it’s made of yours.”

And saying so, he finally kisses you under the stars.

***

The kiss is sloppy at first. There are soft giggles in between, with neither knowing exactly how to go. But it does not take long before each togue pairs the other properly. You can tell that he’s been only shy, not inexperienced as part of you had hoped.

The way he grips around your waist is firm, and slowly his confidence shows it’s way when using his free hand to play with your hair, pulling it gently before cupping your face.

There is a moment where the kiss starts to lose control. You like how dominating he seems, how his tongue asserts control over yours, how breathless you both are. And every wall is knocked down easily. Just like that.

But Osferth’s conscience urges him to stop. When seeing a silent protest in your eyes, he does not look away, though, before saying:

“I want this to be perfect. I do not wish to deflower you right here, even if we have Christ as our witness in every inch of the nature He created.”

You tilt your head, rather unsure what to interpret from his words.

“I appreciate your respect, something I have rarely seen even amidst the folk I’ve been raised. But I must know… Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. Please, do not think so”, he rushes to cup your face again. He rubs his nose against yours before resting his forehead against yours. “I want you to be my wife, Y/N. This is what I’ve meant. D-Do you take me as your husband?”

You beam delightedly. Your smile makes him smile in turn, his heart melting at the sight of your evident happiness at his disastrous proposal. But there you are, just the two of you in the wild, where the starts and the moon are the only witnesses of such a pure display of mutual love and devotion.

“I do. But you must know I will not leave the ways of my people behind”, you tell him, wishing not to sound so insecure.

“I care not. I take you as you are”, Osferth assures you.

You hold him close, eyes closed as you live this moment. All you see behind your mind is him, his smile, his gentleness… A thousand virtues to lead your way, one you’d gladly follow.

Your Valhalla.

His Heaven.

“I love you”, both of you say at the same time.

And you smile at each other because you know.

***

A few months later…

You come to find out that, as careful he might be with you, there is no shyness out of public’s eyes. You take delight at his hunger for your flesh, at his devotion to you. When he goes on his knees and wakes you up in the best of ways…

“Oh Osferth!”, you barely open your eyes when sensing his tongue working wonderfulness in between your legs.

You still have in mind the day he told you he’d wanted to try something with a woman…that his brothers in arm often talked about. But he didn’t want to waste it with any woman, no.

Your hand moves instantly to play with his hair all the whilst you grip the sheet with the other. You never hated as you hate now to wear your nightgown.

“You are waking the beast within me”, you moan, starting to feel your legs weight.

But all the response you get is a groan and when you look down, you meet his eyes and… dear Gods, there is mischief in them.

Just like them, he drinks every bit of you. And when raising up, you take delight in how undressed he is already.

“Husband!”, you kiss his lips fervently all the whilst pulling himself towards you. “You come here…”

He chuckles, specially when you are moved by this unbearable fire that he sparked in you.

“Yes, wife? What’s it with you?”

You start kissing his neck all the whilst locking your legs around his waist, your curious hands not taking too long before finding his erect manhood.

“You make me go insane, Osferth”, you whisper against his neck, getting wet at his moans, at how he throws his head back and enjoys your touch, ever so smooth.

“Oh, do I?”

“Yes”, you bite his earlobe, smirking at his shivering. “Yes, you do.”

You’d gladly go down on him had he not opened his eyes and swiftly turned you. So now he is on top of you and holding your wrists above your head, he begins to remove your nightgown.

“You are so beautiful”, he whispers against your lips, eyeing you with not the common lust of the men, but with so much more.

Which arouses you and tenders your heart all the same.

“I love you”, your words come out as whining which makes him chuckle.

It is only then he slowly, but very skillfully slides into you.

“I love you too, Y/N”.

And just like that you start making love. It would not take too long before a big family starts to raise. After all, you are always following your husband everywhere he goes—even if Osferth protests against it for your safety—and you never resist him. As he never resists you.

Uhtred would later remark that you two form a rather unique pair…

[loversfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed devon ali walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who he is ? they kind of look like raymond ablack and i could be wrong but i think that they might be thirty-four years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last four years. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of sid from how i met your father. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at the book nook as the owner. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the bibliophile of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty transparent at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty rational to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that two bedroom apartment beside me over in ocean's edge. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

STATS:

full name : devon ali nickname(s) : dev birthplace : houston, texas date of birth : june 25, 1990 sibling(s) : n / a !children : victor ali (5) & juliet ali (5) relationship status : single gender identity : cis man ( he/him ) sexual orientation : heterosexual faceclaim : raymond ablack

BACKGROUND:

before he was even born, devon's life had been planned out for him. his parents had been hoping and praying for a boy, and they were overjoyed when their first born came to be.

they had high hopes for him, and he seemed to be meeting each one. he did everything early. his parents loved bragging about how his doctors would say he was on a level two years older than he actually was, whether it was growing, talking, moving, etc.

his parents were so pleased, they decided to not test their luck and have any more kids. this left devon feeling incredibly lonely-- a feeling only healed by reading.

his parents were strict, and social opportunities were not often presented to him. he'd attend a birthday party here and there, but play dates were not something he'd ever really experienced. he called his parents strict, they called themselves protective.

"besides," they'd tell him, "what adventure could be better than those found inside a book?" that's when the library trips began. it was one of the few places he'd see other kids outside of school, but half the time he was too engrossed in the shelves to even notice

his parents were right. there was so many different worlds he could find himself in if he picked through the right shelf.

devon made sure to be the perfect son as he grew up. no talking back, always did his homework and studied, and graduated at the top of his class. he was hoping that once he became an adult, he'd finally be in charge of his own life. oh how wrong he was.

despite the fact that his parents had been looking at colleges since the day he was born ( determined to have an ivy league alum in the family ), devon had thought they'd come to their senses ( as if the previous eighteen years of wishes and prayers for a son committed to being the best weren't any indication where they stood )

he finds brown university to be a good place to be-- it has one of the oldest family medicine residency programs in the country. what more could his parents want?

so, he goes to rhode island and studies. attends all of his classes, does all of his work, gets along with his professors and mentors... HE WAS THE PERFECT SON.

but he could only be that for so long. with his plate so full, he hardly had time to read anything that wasn't a medical textbook. and, while he doesn't hold any ill will against his parents, he likes to think he learned more about life from the novels he's read than his own family. as silly as it sounds, it was hurting to not be able to do the one thing he'd found joy in his whole life.

he's twenty-eight and about to enter his final year of residency when his fiancee tells him she's pregnant. something that most definitely wasn't planned and something that wouldn't fit the role he'd seemingly fell into so perfectly.

he's twenty-nine when the twins come, and while he's ready to be a father, it's so hard to have two huge transitions at once-- two new babies with a job search just around the corner.

victor ( named after victor frankenstein ) and juliet ( romeo & juliet ) are the two best things that he's ever been granted, and he wants to do right by them. how is he going to raise them to be their best selves if he doesn't love the life he lives?

he's thirty when his family makes the move to palmview grove, florida, and he promises his fiancee he'll look at all the close doctors offices. however, when his eyes land on a run-down bookstore almost out of business, he makes the impulsive decision to ask for a loan and buy it out. it's the first thing he's ever done for himself, and it just feels right.

his fiancee, however, is not impressed. in fact, she's angry. he can't blame her for being mad-- it's a big decision, it's a big loan, and it was a decision he made without her. he can't really explain himself, but he can't bring himself to apologize

it doesn't take long for her to walk out-- he's convinced she had been looking for a reason, because it seemed a little too easy for her. he was ready to fight for his kids, but it never even came to that.

it took a year of planning, painting, imagining, and night business classes, but the book nook was finally open for business.

three years later, and the book nook seems to be doing better than ever. he's always at the shop, working the register, recommending books to others, or even volunteering himself for the read alouds. he broke up his family, disappointed his parents, and yet he's never felt more himself.

PERSONALITY:

very open and chatty ! working in both a hospital setting and in a business owner position, he's definitely gotten used to talking to people in all types of scenarios

definitely a little bit silly a little bit goofy ... yes he has a medical degree but he's slept since graduation so sometimes ... he's just silly !

such a book nerd probably is on all the forums ... definitely hates booktok he thinks its a disease !!!

suuuuuch a dad... dad jokes incoming i fear...

unfortunately such a millennial ... don't talk to me before i've had my morning coffee ... minion memes on facebook ... it's a lifestyle for him unfortunately...

[a-queer-seminarian]

hello, it is late at night as im sending this ask so forgive me if im a little bit all over the place but im currently struggling with how to feel and what to do. I've been going to a new church after being pestered by the people around me and today, i listened to the pastor preaching about loving others as a christian and felt happy to be there only to hear the last prayer as we were going home, specifically praying for israel and it broke my heart. I've been struggling ever since on how to feel.

I've seen too many pictures of sons, daughters, mothers and fathers fallen victims to their atrocities, heard too many stories of their vile actions that i just cannot bring myself to be alright with praying for israel while leaving Palestinians out of the conversation altogether, my heart breaks and i mourn and i want to cry. the pastor talked about expressing our love to God through tending to the sick, the hungry, and the naked and when they uttered the prayer, i think of the sick Palestinians children, the hungry babies, the people living in tents, they who spend hours waiting to get bread only to be bombed in line. i dont want to pray for the people dropping bone burning bombs on tents and burning babies. but i was made to pray so and i feel guilty of it. but also i feel guilty for not being able to be a person of forgiveness and compassion even towards the evil because i know we are invited to be kind even to our enemies but i simply cannot stand the injustice and the violent crimes being carried. and i feel so so lost.

i also dont know what to do, im riddled with anxiety, can i go to a different church instead? but what if people ask me why i moved church? i dont know how safe i can be to be openly pro palestine considering i am surrounded by people in power who are conservatively christian, i dont know if i can be safe around them. which also makes me feel guilty that i can not be as firm on my stance as i would like to be, i feel bad that i do not have the courage, i do talk about it when im at home with my family but with people outside i do not know if i am safe around them. but at the same time im afraid if i move to a different church it'll be the same heartbreak again when i find that they support the modern day israel. im so so lost on what to do and how to feel. i just dont want to be supporting such heinous things they're doing, even if that support is invisible to other people, i can not in my conscience pray for the well being of the oppressor while leaving out the oppressed like that. im sorry to God that i can not be as loving as we were called to be but it just breaks my heart to be in this position. im so confused on how to feel and what i can do. ive been feeling wrong ever since i got home.

Hey there. I'm so sorry you had that jolting experience that took you out of worship like that. I've had similar experiences at churches, where I'm feeling the Spirit, feeling Connected to those around me — and suddenly someone says something that pierces me through, that tells me "The people leading this place do not actually love with the love of Jesus; they withhold their love from the people he'd be caring for the most."

When I realize that, I realize I cannot be in community with that church — I have to worship somewhere I can feel safe enough to get vulnerable, and where my core values are shared so we can do good work together. (I am willing, of course, to worship with people who have flaws -- as I do -- and some differences of opinion from me, absolutely — but not ones who completely deny some people's humanity.)

So please don't apologize for not being "as loving as we're called to be." What I hear in your words, in your sense that praying "for Israel" without a single word spared for the immensity of Palestinians' suffering, is love — a love like Christ's love.

When you recognize the injustice of whose pain gets centered versus whose pain gets ignored and discredited, you are loving with the love of Jesus, who insisted that we look at the people those in power ignore; that we center those who are shoved to the margins, who are vilified, whose humanity gets denied.

When Jesus encountered a person who was actively suffering, he didn't pause to announce, "Don't forget, we must pray for the ones who put this person in this position!" He got right to healing them.

And when it comes to "loving our enemy," that never means letting them continue to get away with harm. Loving our enemies, loving oppressors, means praying that they one day recognize that what they are doing is harm — and when they do, giving them the chance to do the long hard work of changing.

This is love towards them because ultimately, their dehumanizing of another group of people dehumanizes them, too; they are destroying their own humanity by denying it to others who share the image of God with them.

I have to imagine that this church you attended prays for Israel not in that sense of, "May its government and its people recognize the evils of settler colonialism, of ethnic cleansing, of genocide and work to change." I imagine they see Israel as the "good guy" in this situation, refusing to acknowledge that what Israel is doing is genocide. They're Christian Zionists. And you are right to feel heartbroken, to feel like something is very wrong with what and how they prayed.

I understand your anxieties and fears. When it comes to people asking why you're changing churches, it's pretty normal to "shop around" when you don't currently have a church home; you can say that after a few visits, you've decided you didn't quite "click" with that church and want to see what else is out there.

As to worrying other churches will be the same — I imagine many will be. In general, more conservative churches will be more likely to support Israel, and more progressive churches will be more likely to support Palestine, but that's not always a for-sure thing, so here are other tips:

Before attending a church, check around its website (or Facebook page) to see if it has any clues — look through its calendar / events pages to see if they've held prayer vigils or attended protests for Palestine, or for Israel. If they have sermons posted online, check out a few; or if they post services online, skip to the prayer requests section of worship (usually pretty soon after the sermon) and see if they uplift any prayers for Israel or Palestine.

Wishing you well as you seek out community where Palestinians' humanity is uplifted and fought for. I'll be praying that the Spirit of Wisdom will guide you into right judgement and courage as you navigate difficult dynamics.

Finally, I'm pasting some links to other posts I think might help you as you continue to discern how you want to support Palestinians and what it means to love like Christ:

My Christian Zionism tag has more on the history of and problems with unquestioning Christian support for modern Israel .

My highest recommendation is Mitri Raheb's book Decolonizing Palestine for more on that topic in depth, along with fantastic arguments against the Zionist conflation between modern Israel and "biblical" Israel. You can read my thorough summary of Raheb's book here. .

I also recommend the book Safety through Solidarity: A Radical Guide to Fighting Antisemitism as a fantastic resource on how being anti-Zionist is not antisemitic and, in fact, Palestinians' and Jews' causes are intertwined .

If you would like suggestions for ways to help Palestinians — in general and as a Christian specifically — visit my resources webpage over here. .

I have a post that digs into Jesus' instruction to "love our enemies" — what they does and does not look like. It also talks about the problems with how Christians often interpret forgiveness. (And here is a second post that offers further reading recommendations on these issues) .

If you also struggle with feeling anger — like it's wrong for you to be angry — check out this post.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Willing & Obedience

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ Isaiah 1:19 If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land;

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ 1 Peter 1:14 As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM FILLED WITH JOY

I LOVE JESUS

I AM OBEDIENT

I AM CLOSER TO CHRIST

********************************

THOUGHTS:

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

  So, I was led by the Holy Spirit to teach the beauty of prayer. We often don’t utilize it because we are too afraid and don’t know how. Maybe we don’t understand the power of prayer. I will be honest: many people say pray about this, pray about that, and it's hard to pray about things because, honestly, because we don’t fully trust in God , but what we must understand is that , God is the only one who can solve our issues, we might think he cant, but he can, and we often get so confused when he doesn’t answer, but he knows everything that happens in our lives, good or bad.

“Job 2:10 “You speak as a foolish woman speaks,” he told her. “Should we accept only good from God and not adversity?” Throughout all this, Job did not sin in what he said.”

 Job knew that we had to accept the outcome of everything. A lot of times, we don’t because we feel maybe he doesn’t know what is best for us or maybe he doesn’t understand us, but he does. Still, it's us who must accept everything from him and accept his outcome for our life, so what does prayer look like? The first step into prayer is to pray his will, so how do we find this out? We pray , simple as that ,BUT its not that simple for some of us , some of us find it hard to do, and some might even ask, how do I know if I heard him right? Like am I truly hearing God or are theses my own thoughts .

 1 John 5:4 This is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.

    It tells us here in 1 John to pray according to his will, and he will hear us; we might think he doesn’t hear us because we are praying against his will, and because nothing happens, we say, oh, he doesn’t hear me, or he doesn’t love me. Sometimes, we must come to him with a contrite heart, a heart that’s longing to connect, and we say God, please show me your will and I will follow your will and then this is the biggest part of it all; we must accept his will.

    Another part of prayer is accepting what he has for us, and a lot of times, we aren't going to like it. I can guarantee you this, but as we grow in God, we start to realize that his will, will fill us with joy , it will make us complete, and it will give us peace

  Psalm 24:4-5 Show me your ways, Lord,

teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior,

and my hope is in you all day long.

     Another way to ask God to show his will is by asking him to teach us the path he wants for us and, while you are on this path, to guide us. Sometimes, we don’t realize it that something we do pushes the spirit away or grieves the spirit, and he doesn’t show us because we aren’t allowing him. We ignore his unctions and they are so subtle and small, but if you're not paying the Holy Spirit any attention, we’ll lose sight of what he wants for us, and we must hope and have faith that he will show us the way; his way is always perfect and on time.

    In life, there are so many directions, but if we allow the lord to guide us, he will bring light to any situation we have, and many people say well, I don’t see the light or his will. We must be willing. Do you have a willing spirit, a submissive spirit, or an obedient spirit? If we have a rebellious spirit or a spirit of pride, we won’t be willing to follow his lighted path.

   Psalm 119:105 Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.

  In some situations, I felt confused and overwhelmed when I slowed down; I got away, allowed him to speak, and listened. I heard him, and he would tell me exactly what I needed, or he’d lead me to a verse in the bible, and when he did, I followed; it was always about us following him, not the other way around; we have to let go to see and hear his will, he could be directing you now with his will, but we have to say I hear you God help me to be obedient.

   1 Peter 1:14 As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance

  Obedience is another layer to prayer; he could tell us something to do, and we could do the complete opposite because we don’t want to do it. I can see that and understand that I had God recently ask me to do something, and I didn’t want to do it, but I did it anyway because it was his way of letting me speak my peace; God isn’t going to let you do anything to start confusion, and when he lets you do something, and he’s leading you to do it, it will bring peace. Hearing his voice and being obedient go hand in hand; you can’t have the other without one.

  ***Today, we learned about prayer, the best tool we as Christians can have. Sometimes, we don’t utilize it as we should because we don’t see the benefits. To be honest, there are a lot of benefits to doing this, but the main goal of praying is to communicate with God. Many of us don’t hear him because we ignore the Holy Spirit every day over the small stuff, and when it comes to the bigger things, we get no reply because we have ignored his unctions and guidance in his word.

   God wants us to follow his will for our lives because his plans are bigger and better , and he knows what we need; we can think we do, but we don’t because if he leads us, we are being led by the spirit , every day we must ask God to show us anything we aren’t doing that’s not of him, and he will show us. Many people won’t admit sometimes it’s hard to follow because we haven’t let go of what we want and our desires. The moment we let go of our desires, he can lead us without delay.

  Suppose you are having problems hearing him; ask him to free your ears so you may hear and ask him to forgive you for not listening. God is so simple to talk to, but we must be ready to talk to him and believe that he hears our prayers.  ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, thank you for everything. Forgive me of the sins I have done, lord; lead us unto you, and help us to be obedient to you every day. Lord, we love you, and thank you for showing us the importance of prayer. Lord, help us to hear you and follow you; lord, we give you our life to lead us into a closer walk with you; thank you, Lord, in Jesus' Name, Amen

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REFERENCES

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+ Luke 11:28 But he said, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it!”

 

+ John 14:23 Jesus answered, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.

 

+ Romans 5:19 For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be righteous.

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FURTHER READINGS

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Proverbs 14

Job 13

2 Chronicles 30

Genesis 48

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[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Wakeel— The Trustee, The Disposer of Affairs, The Guardian— on 14 occasions in the Quran. Al-Wakeel is the only One who takes charge of the affairs of those under His care, managing all matters as He pleases. He is the One to be relied on, for all power belongs to Him!

 The Disposer of Affairs, The One to be Relied Upon

Wakeel comes from the root waaw-kaaf-laam, which points to three main meanings. The first meaning is to appoint or entrust for the care or management of something. The second main meaning is to be a guardian of one’s interests, and the third is to rely upon.

This root appears 70 times in the Quran in four derived forms. Examples of these forms includetawakkaltu (“I put my trust”) and al-mutawakkileen (“the ones who put trust”).

Linguistically the wakeel of someone else is the person who efficiently represents him or does what he is incapable of doing on his behalf. Al-Wakeel is the ultimate Trustee, guardian and administrator of all things and we can trust in the fact that Al-Wakeel will provide the perfect resolution for every matter!

Al-Wakeel Himself says: . . . But it increased them in faith, and they said, “Sufficient for us is Allah , and [He is] the best Disposer of affairs [Quran, 3:173] . . . To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. And sufficient is Allah as Disposer of affairs [Quran, 4:171] and The Lord of the East and the West; there is no deity except Him, so take Him as Disposer of [your] affairs [Quran, 73:]

Al-Wakeel and Other Names

In the ayaat in which the name Al-Wakeel is mentioned, Allah gives a reference to His power and authority. The name Al-Wakeel is related in meaning to Al-Haseeb (The Reckoner, The Sufficer) and to Al-Qadeer (The All-Powerful); we entrust our affairs to Allah because only He has control over all things and only He is sufficient for us as provider and reckoner.

How Can You Live By This Name?

1.       Have trust and work hard.
Reliance on Allah (tawakkul) means you entrust your affairs to Him, take every worldly precaution, and submit to Al-Wakeel for the result. An example is the hijrah for which the prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wasallam and Abu Bakr radiyyallahu ‘anhu planned according to their means. However, they were overtaken by the Quraysh. This is when the prophet calmed Abu Bakr with a beautiful statement of tawakkul, saying What do you think is the destiny of two people who have Allah for their Companion?

2.       Pray istakharah.

One of the most beautiful examples of trusting in Al-Wakeel’s choice is the istakharah prayer. Ask Allah that if the matter is good for you to make it easy for you and if not, to take it away and then be content with the decree of Al-Wakeel.  Make it a habit to practice this sunnah in your daily life, for big and small matters, as the prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam taught the companions to makeistakharah in all things, just as he used to teach them surahs from the Quran!

3.       Don’t be anxious about the future.

Many people are depressed or worried about their or their children’s future. Don’t fear the power of the enemy, never go for unlawful earnings, and know that you can trust Al-Wakeel because He will manage your affairs in the way best for you! Be inspired by what Ibraheem ‘alayhi sallam said when he was thrown in the fire: Allah suffices me, for He is the best disposer of affairs (hasbunallaahu wa ni’mal wakeel)!* Take the example of those who entrusted their souls to Al-Wakeel, like Haajar, when she was left in the desert with Ismaeel ‘alayhi sallam who said with true belief: Did your Lord order you to do so, then He shall not forsake us.

4.       Be someone others can trust and rely on. Be someone others can turn to when they need help, and when you have to act on someone’s behalf fear Al-Wakeel and fulfill your duty as good as you can. The Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallamsaid: Allah will aid a servant (of His) so long as the servant aids his brother. [Muslim]

5. Train yourself to trust Al-Wakeel.
The first time Musa ‘alayhi sallam saw the stick becoming a snake, he ran away in fear. The second time he did not run but felt fright within himself upon being confronted by the magicians, and the third time, the most difficult of these situations, when the army of the Pharaoh was behind them and the sea in front of them, he had no fear; he said what can be translated as, Not at all. Surely my Lord is with me; He will soon guide me. [Quran, 26: 62]  [paraphrased from the series In Thy Name we live by Dr. A. Khaled]

6.      Do dhikr with this name.
Every morning and evening say: حَسْبِ اللهُ لا إله إلا هو، عليه توكلت و هو ربَ العرش العظيم
Allah is sufficient for me. There is no God but He.  I have placed my trust in Him, He is Lord of the Majestic Throne. Whoever says this seven times in the morning after fajr, and seven times after Asr, Allah will take care of whatever worries him of the matter of this world and the hereafter. [Abu Dawood, Muslim]

The Prophet said: Whoever says(when he leaves his house) – Bismillaah, tawakkaltu ‘alaa Allaah, wa laa hawla wa laa quwwata illaa billaah – In the name of Allah, I put my trust in Allah and there is no power and no strength except with Allah- , it will be said to him: You are taken care of and you are protected and guided, and the devils will move away from him, and one devil says: What can you do with a man who has been guided, taken care of and protected?[Abu Dawood, At-Tirmidhi]

Wallahu ta’alaa ‘alem.

O Allah, Al-Wakeel, we know that You take care of all matters.  Make us of the mutawakkileen, those who gracefully rely on You and guide us to work in this world to the best of our ability. Make us of those others can trust in, protect us against our enemies and ourselves, guard over us and make us entrust our souls to you in times of ease and hardship, ameen!

[soulntes]

4. A MOTHER'S MISSION

CHAPTER 5 : ONCE UPON A DREAM

lie is a word that never existed for the navi. for them it never occured their minds of mistrusting among themselves to keep the truth. in their entire life nobody has broken a promise between family, friends, and people living close to you.. to betray you.

never.

ingyen trusted jake will bring her son home safely then she'll demand from her olo'eyktan names, faces, anybody he may have recognize long ago.

she doesn't care about permission at the moment. she wants to scout their premises and kill them for taking the children hostage when they've done nothing but stumble in their path.

this made her blood boil, imagining those pests using innocent children to get to jake sully and she doesn't doubt they'll recognize them being his children by their fingers.

ingyen kept praying in her home swearing she'll do her part in eywa's will for what she has in store but to bring her child, her life back in her arms reach.

"please great mother, i beg you for the rescue to be successful of all the children and guide my sister and jake just.. bring seykxel home. i'll never doubt your balance of life and prepare the journey you put me once again." as she prayed continuously and repeatedly until her voice turns unheard when mo'at entered in silence to not interrupt.

she is worried the state she puts herself in for a boy, despite being born human, she'll sacrifice anything in the world for her boy.

the times she spent with them, the more she sees seykxel's influence on ingyen's attitude towards humans improved.

at first they were curious and willing to learn of how humans came to be when that fateful day came, taking sylwanin away and from that day onwards, her hate grew in spite.

but with his birth, she turned for the better.

she played and bonded with the baby laughing at his pouts, tantrums, and personality growing in front of her like any mother would. not caring about their differences.. she kissed every tear away from his eyes, caressed his face,bbeing proud to call him her son, played imagination to his heart content. they accepted each other.

there she stood still watching over her distraught daughter crouched on the ground in case she turns sick. ingyen's squeezed her hands some more for her prayers to be heard when one of her people announce, "the olo'eyktan is back!"

with that she immediately stood on her feet pushing the huts flaps to search for jake sully and neytiri. her heart accelerated each second she got closer to them next to their ikrans waiting for her son to run into her arms. when she got there seeing her dear sister with her kids catching her glance and looked the away stoic of something.

she pushed everyone aside to find her son but he wasn't anywhere. jake approaches her holding both arms in place, "ingyen i'm sorry but we need to talk about spider."

her confused expression got jake worried on how she'll react and drags her away before she could. neytiri told her kids to go with their grandmother for the night while they have a serious conversation with their aunt.

"where is my son? jake sully, what happened to seykxel? why isn't he here with you?!" her voice rose concerned on the omatikayas and scientists outside ingyen's hut where both parents stood before her not answering.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

miles showed up to the commotion catching sight of his soldiers capturing four children. three omatikayas and one human. he inspect every single one but stared mostly at the human child who looks and feels like someone he met in his past.

he wasn't the only. spider connected the dots as his eyes landed on that same inked tattoo on that exact left shoulder belonging to the short haired avatar. who appeared like the same man that died years ago and in his dreams. it couldn't be.

lyle spoke holding kiri's hand showing it to his colonel, "look colonel. five fingers on this one, we have a half breed." miles indeed counts while checking her face seeing it's similar to dr augustine's.

he turns to the boy held down on his knees, "show me your fingers." lo'ak unexpectedly put his middle fingers up for the demon showing no fear which he chuckled in return at his rebuttal.

"you're his aren't you," he smirks and lo'ak hisses bearing his fangs, "you're his alright." miles grips the back on his neck, holding the base part of the braid connecting with force and demands, "where is he?"

lo'ak answers in his mother tongue hoping they wouldn't understand, "unfortunately i don't speak with assholes," but with what little he learned about the language he demands the boy again gripping even harder, "where is your father?"

he knew it hurt him, it was the delicate part of their bodies they protect. turns out for him, the kid was stronger than he looks trying to hiss that came out as a choked wail, "really? you wanna play this way." he took out his dagger to scare him which resulted in kiri shouting to prevent harm on her younger brother.

the avatar leader pushes the boy and made his way in front of his sister held by his comrades.

"hey! no! don't touch her! don't hurt her please!" spider yells moving desperately to get out of the avatar's grip, he didn't care of the disadvantage only the safety of his friend.

miles looks at the human kid asking for his name. spider remembered what his mother told him to do for this exact moment.

remember if they ever ask of your name, go with spider always, i guess will guarantee your safety and i'll come for you always.

"spider. soccoro." the very name that was roaming his head like a song repeating it's lyrics caught him in disbelief. what he could remember is his past relationships with a woman that he had flings with carried a child. up until now, records show she died in battle leaving her son behind believing the child was sent back to earth after the events.

miles kneeled to his level curious if it was him by the last name, "miles?"

this upsets spider because his mother renamed him and raised him so he'd feel safe to not be called by the man who brought destruction only for him to be reborn to call him that.

how was he alive? why is this man in his dreams by the same tattoo? he took a long pause glaring at what was suppose to be his dead father, "nobody calls me that." clearly showing discomfort of the dead name.

quaritch continues to speak with the kid not grasping at the idea he grew up on pandora, "i'll be damned. I figured they sent you back to earth."

"can't put babies in cryo, dip shit." spider spat back at his stupidity.

miles just stares studying his face, he knows that they are not biologically relate because of his rebirth but there is no denying that he is his son.

with the interrogation going nowhere with these kids in the woods, he called in the general for pick up adding that they acquired valuable hostages which will help them tremendously.

he finished giving their exact location for the airships until they arrive. the colonel ordered his troops to move the kids near the shack when they recovered the security footage of his old suit showing neytiri hissing at him. it's jake sully's woman. then came the one and only, jake to rescue her.

watching them exchange their last words before they fought against each other. in the corner of where spider sat, he peaked over watching what was playing of the battle jake and his father. it was beginning to eclipse that lasted the video and spider sees neytiri pierce two arrows directly towards human quaritch's chest causing him to give up and perish.

watching how neytiri didn't hesitate to protect her mate made him think if she ever thought about ending his life because he was his son and he's always around her children. he did ask about how his father died with his mother and she told him the truth knowing his curiosity on why his mother's sister held a grudge everytime he played with his friends. he was scared but now he's terrified at her attitude that she wished it chased him away.

neytiri will never accept him and her disapproval of him being omatikaya continues to grow everyday of his life, insisting he belongs among his kind and being consistent of distrusting. seeing his mother staring intensely at her sister to not act out and leave him alone, it pains him he is the cause of their tarnished relationship.

would it be different if he wasn't born as his son? then would neytiri accept the idea of being her sister's child.

...

miles witnessing his death had an impact on how he views human quaritch's actions and resistance against the navi and the reason the rda brought him back from the dead.

the soul of miles quaritch torn between two lives he lives in with the motive to hunt down jake sully is starting to clear the questions he ask himself. the sole purpose of his mission and destiny later on being recognized as the vile man.

grabbing the human skull from the body holding it high for him to see, lyle asks if they salvage the remains and his response was to crush it completely into pieces. for a moment he felt guilt for slightly despising the one who gave a reason to be revived but to be seen differently than how he is now is something diabolical to him.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

eclipse already set where the recoms were waiting at the shack for their airship to arrive with each of them holding the children firm in their grasp. the kids were figuring a way to escape so they can go home with their parents. they got orders of their location in three minutes, they'll be picked up and prepared to carry a child.

spider grew worried and anxious. how the hell are they going to escape? his mom must be worried sick it's taking jake and neytiri to come rescue them. he can't imagine the thoughts running through her head, praying he comes home safely, and her promises to be quicker whenever he is in potential danger. her depressing stoic look wanting him back so they can live their whole lives together absolutely shatters his heart.

it was completely silent in the wilderness that miles' ear twitches at the noise of creatures roaming around, the waters trickling droplets down on their bodies, the smell of the wet soil and the bristles of leaves.

a call from a distance sounds like a type of animal. the kids recognized that call from anywhere repeatedly her deep call getting closer to let them know they're going to be saved.

neytiri kept calling until she reached a point where her view was clear to make a shot of her arrow. she tries to find an opening but seeing kiri in the hands of a dream walker made her sick, of course there was the human child.

for ingyen's sake of sanity she'll try to rescue all of them.

she focuses again when kiri got the recom to move his head, releasing her arrow straight to his head. this caused a ruckus for the other avatars to shoot their bullets where the arrow might've came from. the kids took it as an advantage getting the avatars to release them and make a run for it into the forest. miles tries to reach for spider and the girl but his comrade in front suffered a blow by one of the arrows, he backed up to take protection under a large trunk. spider grabs ahold of kiri leading her through so they can reach the safety of the adults.

seeing the same green, feathered arrows earlier got him holding his breath and his ears pushed back, indicating the fear rising but he brushed it off with a smirk. he thought, i finally got them where i needed them.

"is that you mrs. sully? i recognized your calling card." he antagonizes neytiri while he signs his soldiers to go around for a clear shot.

"come on out mrs. sully. the two of us have some unfinished business." miles continues with his rambling to buy some time as he loads his ammo.

neytiri watched her daughter and sister's child running as fast as they can away from danger and shouts, "demon! i will kill you as many times as i have to."

"you and the corporal have been pretty busy, haven't you? got yourself a whole litter of half-breeds." thinking he got the upper hand of kill her off, another set of shots aiming the trees where she could possibly be. neytiri quickly leaves to join her family while being shot at and explosions trying to catch her off guard.

miles couldn't let this opportunity go to waste as he loaded another round aiming it where spider and one of sully's kids rushing through branches.

the impact got spider to lose his balance, falling down with a harsh landing at a steep ground. neytiri didn't think twice dragging her daughter with her and leave the boy behind because her family comes first.

kiri begs for her mother about spider but it was no use seeing the avatars surrounding him. the colonel flips him to check on the boy's state with a few scratches from the fall he took and his cracked mask. spider felt he's going to lose conscious and his vision becoming blurry. he ordered what remained of his team to fall back while he threw the boy over his shoulder to taking him along.

the young boy felt useless, defenseless and broken. not the state he is in but by getting captured to be taken somewhere far away from his home.. his mom. he needed to get home. his mother is waiting for his returning. no matter how much he struggle in the grasp of the avatar, his body was sore. spider didn't have a chance to have a last dinner and bonding time with his mother.

spider guess that earlier morning is their last moment together.

the airship arrived lowering the rope as every recom attached themselves to be taken away immediately and report their situation. the sully family watched as it leaves in case of another attack but were welcomed by darkness.

they all hugged and cried in their moment for their safety when kiri chokes a cry that they took spider. jake and neytiri stared at each other to find a way to explain ingyen about her son's whereabouts.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

"where is my son? jake sully, what happened to seykxel? why isn't he here with you?!" her voice rose concerned on the omatikayas and scientists outside ingyen's hut where both parents stood before her not answering.

ingyen is getting impatient with the lack of silence just to tell her where her boy was. whether he died during the rescue or they couldn't find him after he escaped. there millions of scenarios running through her head.

"for the sake of eywa! answer me! where is ma seykxel! i swear i'll go to ask your children myself because i am here desperate for an answer and none of you-" she got interrupted by jake's sudden drop to his knees in front of her and neytiri looked anywhere but her sister because when they tell her, it'll be the end.

"spider was taken by the rda's new avatars. quaritch is back and took spider along with him probably back to their base. i had to save the rest because spider's already done for." jake explains in a low tone not bearing to see her reaction.

neytiri spoke in defense of her mate, "ma jake did what he could for the boy but there wasn't time left and took our kids, we couldn't risk their safety."

"risk their safety!? the safety of my son by leaving him behind to buy yourselves time to save your children! the olo'eyktan should have done more like he did for his children, you wanted to get rid of seykxel for a long time, neytiri!" ingyen screamed towards her sister before she makes up excuses of their justification for abandoning her son. her tears visible on her blue face and blood shot eyes glaring at them as her tail agitates and her ears pressed down displaying her anger.

ingyen's uneven breathing with disappointment displaying right in front of the people she called family in bringing her son home. the betrayal stabbed deep in her heart feeling what she never expected to feel in her lifetime. she understands on saving their children but to leave her child behind without a fight to kill them is nothing but utterly selfish.

the hate her sister carries at seykxel became too much for her but tolerated for the sake of becoming a family with jake sully. she learned to accept him and forgive the actions he committed of distrust on the omatikaya. but neytiri wasn't willing to do the same for her. that's all she needed.

"listen, ingyen! that demon is son of the very man who destroyed our home causing deaths of our people, touching everything we love for selfish needs! that vile man is somehow alive.. and breathing, ready to hunt us down now that he knows of our children! the demon who had another! why get upset over the boy and blaming us?! he will never be one of us!" neytiri full on shrieks her true feelings about spider showing she'll only see him as an alien.

this was the last straw for ingyen. she finally snapped.

ingyen laughs as she sobs not being able to hold it any longer.

"you're clearly blinded by the love you have for jake sully when he's done unforgivable things which i decided to move past for your sake but for you blame the sins his father made when he barely was born into the world! a baby! you couldn't think about doing it for me! seykxel is one of us! it's different between your mate and my son, you do whatever you want! i'm going to save my son and i swear if he ends up dead, you'll never see me again, dear sister." she swore to her sister and huffs out of the hut to prepare herself on rescuing seykxel.

she finally lets her tears out and sob at the loss of her son's presence. ingyen just wanted today be like any regular day where they see each other to talk about what they did, eat their meals while planning what to do, and just laugh together. she stared at his favorite desert on the little table, wanting him to at least be here and eat it.

her seykxel's smile always brighten up her hard exterior and brought a good influence on acting towards the humans. she started to be devoted to her olo'eyktan accepting jake as her brother. an older brother she never had.

she didn't realize this would be her last day of peaceful memory with her family together and later will become a cold, dark and lonely will she has to carry.

she headed where she can let out whatever she carried. her relationship with the scientist is impactful that she went to search for norm and max for comfort. the only people who stood there in silence in their presence to feel at ease. both of them opened their hearts to her which she was very grateful for and stayed to discuss of her depart. they wouldn't change her mind, only her son.

...

the next day came painfully slow as the sun rose, ingyen prepared her stuff that she'll need for her rescue mission.

a mother's mission.

seeing the gift given to her son laying there before it was touched on hunting grounds by her son. she takes the bow when they meet again so he'd get the chance in using it.

norm and max agreed on leaving her clues of where their location for her and gave her essentials that'll be needed for her travels. extra batteries, a disassemble mask, herbs they've discovered that were going to be of great help and their parting gifts until they meet again.

they were sure she was going to come back home with her son. they believed in her skills and warrior spirit. ingyen did a 'i see you' motion to them in respect and love to them for getting her this far, this moment will be cherished by them.

before she heads out, ingyen plans on telling her mother and bidding her goodbye until they see each other again with her grandson. but she stopped by neytiri's home to see her kids.

she's gotten close to the entrance when she heard the two mates discussing an important matter, "-this quaritch, whatever he is, he can walk right in here under eywa's nose."

"this is our family. this our home. you can not ask this. i can not leave my people. i can not leave my mother and sister." neytiri argues at her mate's request about his position to seek uturu away from the omatikaya to keep their family and people safe.

she picked up the mess around her hut to distract herself away from what her husband tried to explain saying their family is being targeted. it was a back and forth conversation about not leaving the home their children grew up in and to think about the safety on the clan and family.

jake sully reminds her their children were in his grasp threatening to harm them until he mentioned her son.

"this will protect the people. quaritch has spider and that kid knows everything. he knows our whole operation and he can lead them here. if the people harbor us, they will die." neytiri gasps silently at her sister's sudden approach with her gear and packed stuff.

jake looked behind him seeing the distraught but stoic face of his sister watching them talk. ingyen scoffs at their discussion of her boy, "how dare you accuse my son of telling the enemies about our whereabouts when you done it along time ago, olo'eyktan."

his ears pinned back in shame as the guilt feeds off his pride and she continues, "my boy is not like you. do not worry about my safety when i'm heading out to find and rescue seykxel since it was your mission to save all the children. neytiri.. i hope you and your family live happily somewhere among the tribes, i'm not going with you no matter how much you try and i'm coming back for mother and my home. i'll never abandon my son. farewell to you two and to your children." she tosses her bag over her shoulder ready to head out then sees her nieces and nephews with their grandmother outside waiting.

they can't change her mind. so they wished her luck and to be guided back home with seykxel. one by one they bid their goodbye. from oldest to youngest and when she lets go of them, it breaks her that she'll probably not be able to see them in a long time. lastly kiri and tuk squeeze her tightly not wanting to let her go.

kiri sniffles as she told her aunt, "auntie ingyen.. when you bring back spider, tell him i'm sorry for not going back to save him and that i miss him." ingyen coos her wiping her tears away, "kiri, my sweet child, whatever happened.. you didn't do anything wrong so it's not your fault. i will bring back my son and i will let him know." she pecks her head turning to the younger sister who wanted to say something.

tuk holds out a necklace and arm band with a frown trying so hard not to cry when she accepts the gift.

"oh tuk it's beautiful."

"i made both of them. the necklace for you and the arm band for spider. please make it safe auntie and i know everyone will miss you especially momma." tuk softly tells her and goes to hug her again, ingyen had to resist because she couldn't live without her boy like neytiri with her youngest.

lastly was her mother waiting for her goodbye getting teary. mo'at smiles going to crease her daughter's face one last time, "may the great mother lead you the path you were destined and bring you home with your family. seykxel is a mighty warrior and there's no doubt he is resisting whatever they're putting through until you have him back. the people will wait for your return ma'ite." her daughter cries as she embraces her mother apologizing that she'll have to part ways for now.

finally she is to set on her mission with one last look to her people waving their farewells and hops on her ikran in search of her missing son. her fingers touch her son's bow promising on rescuing him and return home together.

it was a mother's mission.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

after miles and his soldiers arrived at their base, the barely conscious spider was taken by the scientist to examine his body.

at their hands touching, who is supposedly his predecessor's son, he almost hissed to back off of him feeling a different attachment to him.

it was weird but new to him in his first days of waking up. since he and his comrades were reminded of their different physic and perspective will be new for all of them than when they were humans. then came another terrible head ache again. the same one in the forest and when he arrives on pandora.

what were the cause of these headaches? miles questions looking at himself and a throbbing pain caused him to flinch and the human quaritch himself appearing on top of his reflection. a reminder of who he was and who he's suppose to be. colonel miles quaritch? who is he truly?

deciding to ignore whatever going on in his head, he went to check on how the interrogation went with general ardmore on the whereabouts of jake sully. probably involves in threatening his life so in return he is granted safety for being rescued by living as a na'vi.

this boy grew up here on pandora, living in their lifestyle, talks like, walks like them, and fights and retaliates against the humans. miles thought on how to influencing him can be a challenge when he was taught about what happened years ago. the young boy caused a ruckus with the geniuses trying to stab one of them with a scalpel, spewing his rage which he was escorted to the general.

they wanted to test a new machine that'll get him to spit information they wanted. miles didn't know what it was called but a part of the machine was circling around spider's head rapidly with green lights and his head held tightly to the restraints. what he could pick up on the one controlling it is it'll help them get an image of something if he creates an image in his head when questioned.

his eyes trying to find a way to avoid it's torture device but to no avail he gathers all the strength to fight it. like his mother taught. just like the mighty warrior.

even if he died, he died fighting for the safety and lives of the sully family and his mother.

"where's jake sully?"

"i don't know!" he yelled at the cruel woman in front of him, scared of everything around him. spider was confused and frightened of these humans.

"we know you know." the general insists on pushing the matter but he kept dodging her questions.

"form a picture in your mind. is it one of the floating mountains?"

spider is beginning to imagine his life flash before his eyes as he pleaded to be let out. the image of his beautiful mother smiling down at him and he reaches his baby hands to hold her face. the tears forming accepting he'll never see his mother again.

the scientists scan his brain hologram for anything that he pictures but it was a blur of a navi woman. he was fighting on the image of his mother to not give into cruel humans.

miles scans his brain inside where the control room was seeing slight images of the na'vi woman carrying what was his baby self being taken care of. all he could see is her lips, not her eyes. she grins at the boy in her arms rocking him. his best guess is this woman raised and taught him everything through his life. maybe he could try finding her if she's willing to rescue her adopted son. as he scans her half face, there it was the very same scar under her left eye like in his dreams.

this woman must be his adopted mother.

hearing the general ordering the scientist to keep going with the interrogation to force it out of him. she and the rest of everyone in the room is torturing the poor kid as he pleads of not knowing anything and for it to stop. it pissed him off somehow. the pleas and yells that spider struggled to let out showing he was getting weaker by the minute. miles didn't know how long he resisted against them and he admired force but it's causing his body to react, his tail swishing angrily that he almost swatted someone's head and his ears slicked so far back.

spider knows he has to survive to be able to see his mother again. if she ever found out he died fighting against their torture, she would kill everyone to her last breath for revenge. she would die and he didn't want that.

he yells with courage spitting his rebuttal at the woman, "you're gonna have to kill me!"

"where is he?" she signals for the machine to go faster even if it kills him. she needed the information not caring he is a child.

"i don't know! i don't know, you buttholes! i don't know! sa'nok oe'avun!" save me mom! that's what miles could figure his last words were when he had enough hearing his cries.

he strides fast to the button and turns it off which the general's confused state sees who interrupted the process. finally spider felt the relief when his brain rests, closing his eyes slightly and blood runs down his nose. i came out fine and alive. like a warrior. thought spider.

miles sensed the relief then faces the general with a solution that didn't involve torturing the kid and ripping her head off. taking one last look at the boy facing, he whispered, "general, let me try the personal angle."

she knew what he insisted and she was upset at the fact the colonel took sympathy for a wild, out of control child who's parents died a long time ago. "he's not your son." she said walking off to do paperwork.

...

after spider was attended to his vitals and scans if everything came out alright, they escorted him to the same room they kept him in where he'll wait for the avatar who is a copy of his dead father.

miles tried to shake of the nerves happening, treating it as a simple task to get the kid to warm up to him that looks like the human quaritch.

he entered watching spider, under the table scared about what happened, patiently waiting for a reaction. he thought of tricking him going to the other end of the table when spider tried booking out the door but caught by the avatar's long arms, placing him on top and holding him against the table. miles slowly backs up showing his hands that he meant no harm after he hissed at him.

"we good?" he asks but spider ignores him completely that miles thought how tough he showed himself to be. he kneels to his level to see eye to eye and continues to persuade him, "you got heart, kid. the science pukes leaned on you pretty hard but you gave them nothing. i respect that." that comment got spider off guard hearing from someone other than his mother praise him highly but he brushed it off as it was nothing. it's more awkward that this avatar looking like his dead father tries to befriend him and he just rolls his eyes.

miles remembers the tags, missing one, that lyle picked up from the skeleton handing it toward the boy gently taking his small hands in his, "i thought you might want this. this is colonel miles quaritch. deceased. killed in action."

the boy knew better, cocking his head to the side as if the avatar was serious that he wanted what is useless to him of remembering that vile man so he tossed them aside in front of him.

miles just grins genuinely, not even a hint of anger or distaste of his actions, that his ears perk up and tail wags a little.

"i'm not that man. but i do have his memories-" he goes to pick up the item, "enough to know that.. well he wasn't always the best father. but that is not an apology." he makes his way to sit next to the kid hoping it wouldn't chase him off.

spider slightly scoots to the corner showing he wasn't interested letting him ramble the same shit to him.

"i'm not your father. technically, you and i, we're nothing to each other. but i can help you. i can get you out of here." miles insists watching spider's slight reaction at the offer but keeps staring anywhere.

of course spider wants to get out and what he was offering is what is his chance but he wanted to keep himself in check to manipulate the situation.

miles tries to think more ways to motivate this child into siding with him, "i won't ask you to betray jake sully. you would never do that. you're loyal and i admire loyalty. now just ride along, otherwise i gotta give you back to those lab coats." he adds which he thinks is his best shot since spider turns looking at him and nods.

his ears perk again showing his pleasure of agreement.

spider wanted to ask to see if he can check his tattoo up close but decide for another time once he feels the trust and instead, "why save me in the first place when they could kill me and move on with your mission saving all the trouble?"

the avatar thought it was good question that he himself wanted to question but he didn't know either. it maybe an influence in his nature of body to protect what he see defenseless because he felt the need to stop the harm done to him. he'll never admit it to the kid. "i guess i wanted to learn where your strength and loyalty came from especially living on a planet full of indigenous as you predent yourself. you could teach me a few things when we're out there so i can understand the lifestyle." he confesses what is both truth and lie, patting him on the back signalling with the tilt of his head to follow him out of the room.

spider follows as he felt seen by someone willing to learn what he went through and survived. he knows it was the sake of trying to side with him but he'll give them hell on how he lives with the na'vi.

this was going to be so fun for him.

...

during this time, ingyen searched the forest trying to find tracks or anything left behind. her eyes were barely open from her crying last night and lack of food she ate but she wants to save her son first before she thought of herself.

carrying his gifted bow on her arm she spotted a shiny object from the corner of her eye, it must be something metal of their creation. when she got to it and picked it up touching the rust on it indicating it was already old but a piece chipped off. she decided to keep it and a few feet the object she saw her son's bow he took yesterday.

her feet ran to it and picked up tracing the broken state it was in. someone stepped on it for sure from the way it looks and her anger built up even more. ingyen kept seykxel's old bow and continues on her journey.

suddenly the same pain came back even stronger when her son was taken. it must be a sign from eywa but she didn't know what she is suppose to do so she'll figure it out as soon as possible.

with the state her body was restless, deciding to rest and camp out to gather her strength for another search around the area.

after eating and drinking water, she took her son's song cord out, that he forgotten to take with him, and sang his lullaby to ease her into a slumber to take her to a sweet and happy memory and dream.

TAGLIST

@skinmittensgoblin @eternallyvenus @winxschester @perseny @cleverzonkwombatsludge @reallysparklychaos @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @liyahsocorro @violet-19999 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ratchetprime211 @analuw @alexandra-001 @grimistangel @ok-boke

[karinyosa]

from @villageauntie on instagram: “was asked to share ideas of what people who are unable to attend physical gatherings can do to support. these are some of the things i came up with. please feel free to add more in the comments.

yes, i am purposefully leaving out certain words and flags so this post can stay in the feed. but you know who and what this post is for”

id under the cut.

image 1 ID: white title text against a dark gray background that says "nine things you can do" with the subtitle "i was asked to compile a list of suggested activities for those who are unable to attend protests or who are not active on social media. these are from my own experience and those taken from history. i invite you to explore additional ways to support and share them in the comments".

image 2 ID: title says "pray tahajjud". subtitle says "wake in the last third of the night and pray. pray without ceasing. pray like you mean it. prayer is not the least we can do, it is the best we can do. know that your prayers reach. so reach inside and use your limbs and your tongue to supplicate to the one from whom all mercy descends. pray. pray. pray".

image 3 ID: title says "provide childcare". subtitle says "many who are active in the struggle are also parenting young children. offer to watch the babies so that both physical and digital organizing can take place. you can offer to watch children in your home, at the community center, a house of worship, or even outside. just offer it and make it free".

image 4 ID: title says "get educated". subtitle says "read books on palestine, on sudan, on the struggles of oppressed people worldwide. study anti-colonial thought. watch documentaries. study about makandal. read june jordan, kwame ture, amilcar cabral, james baldwin, toni morrison, marc lamont hill, and others. read more, scroll less (unless you are scrolling to get informed). read, digest, reflect".

image 5 ID: title says "educate others". subtitle says "organize a study circle. talk to your friends. interrupt falsehood with fact. have meaningful conversations with coworkers. ask questions, listen more. use what you have read to empower your family. read to their children. answer their questions. use your voice to help others to know and never forget".

image 6 ID: title says "prepare meals". subtitle says "make food. buy food from a local restaurant that is trustworthy. buy fruit. take it to your neighbors, to the masjid, to those who are or will be actively protesting. feed the people because nourishment is important and food is a way to show love and support".

image 7 ID: title says "organize fundraisers". subtitle says "if you have something you can make/sell, use it for a fundraiser. food, quilts, artwork, services, whatever. sell it and donate it to reputable charities providing support. something is better than nothing. no amount raised is too small". as an addition from me, i've also seen people do free art for people willing to commit to calling their reps every day. and for places to donate, i've seen lots of people talking about humanitarian organizations, but two more that i'd like to suggest are the palestinian social fund (palestiniansocialfund.com, their about says "The path to liberation requires material support that is directed toward self-sustainability. The Palestinian Social Fund raises unconditional funding for cooperative farms in Palestine through grassroots efforts. These farms are started by youth who are returning to the land to reclaim food sovereignty and control their own destiny.") and palestine action (palestineaction.org), who participate in direct action activism against weapons trading with israel, mainly focusing on the company elbit.

image 8 ID: title says "engage in arts activism". subtitle says "write poems. paint, sew, sing, dance, create. the artists are desperately needed. make work that amplifies the moment and educates. pour your heart into your craft with the intention to help. art can do what other activism cannot. say it with your craft".

image 9 ID: title says "participate in digital organizing". subtitle says "use your devices as organizing tools. set up a weekly zoom. invite speakers to engage and educate. engage in digital campaigns and letter writing. harness the power of technology for the greater good".

image 10 ID: title says "write letters/essays". subtitle says "write to your elected officials. flood their interns with letters and calls. write essays and post them to your substack/medium/local paper. people are looking to be informed. add your voice through the written word. people will read".

[weirdestbooks]

The Little Empire's Crush (Wattpad | Ao3)

Requested by UshankaCat

He didn’t have a name—not a country one. His father called him a “waste of space” and an “imposter,” and his tad ignored him and pretended like he wasn’t there. The former Colony of Santiago, now known as Jamaica, his father’s new colony, had tried his best to fix that, but without knowing who he really was or what he was supposed to be, it didn’t work out.

He thanked Jamacia anyway.

So, he preferred to go by his human name, William Fitzroy. His surname meant “son of the king,” and it was William’s attempt to garner support from his father. It was typically bestowed to bastard children, and William knew that well.

Even though he had a human name, he sometimes thought his father only knew of him as “the bastard.”

It hurt.

But he has his ways of escaping (not that he was too welcome in his father’s home or the palace).

The theater had always been his escape, a way to escape how terrible and horrific the real world was. It was a place where he could forget about the fact that he was a bastard and just indulge in something he loved, something that was there for him more than either of his parents were.

William had seen his particular performance many a time before. He came back, not for the story, but for the lead actor. The actor was talented and graceful, everything William wanted to be someday. His hair was golden, and his eyes a glimmering blue and—

William cut off his thoughts as he realized the path his thoughts were going down. No. Not again. Those sinful thoughts couldn’t be back again.

He couldn’t. He…he couldn’t. He needed his father to love him. He needed to prove that he was good. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t indulge in sin.

William’s hands felt clammy as he tried his best to focus on the rest of the performance. But it was hard when he had to avoid looking at the lead actor, the one who would tempt him into sin.

But William was a Holy Angel, a descendent of the Kingdom of England and the Principality of Wales. He was supposed to be Holy and pure, one of God’s ambassadors to Earth. If he was tempted into sin, what would that say about the state of humanity, the state of his father’s country?

William couldn’t be tempted. He wouldn’t.

When the performance was over, instead of going backstage to talk to the cast like he usually did, William was quick to leave, fleeing back home, trying to outpace his own thoughts.

This had to be a test, right?

God had to be testing him, doing something to prove to William’s father that he was an angel like him, that he was supposed to be on earth, that he was good and Holy and just as pure as his father.

William broke off from his quick pace back home, instead searching for the nearest church. He needed to pray, to prove that he was not tempted, to prove that he was good. 

Upon his arrival at the church, grateful to see that it was relatively empty, William hurried to sit in the back corner so no one could overhear him.

“Lord, please, I have not been tempted into sin. I have passed all the tests that you have given me and proven my worth as one of your angels. God, I beg of you now; please convey that to my father. Please show to him that I am not a sinful creature, a bastard, but a being such as him. Please help me show him that I am good,” William prayed, hands clasped tightly in prayer.

He was good. He didn’t give in to sin.

His father had to see that. 

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Angel of God -- The St. Agnes Years - Chapter One

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Matt Murdock & F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Pre-relationship, Slices of Life, Pining (oh, so much pining).

Word Count: ~1450 (for this chapter )

A/N: A look into AoG's Matt & Reader's lives together as children, from their first meeting until their eventual separation.

November 17, 1996

Dear God, please help me to be brave, Matthew Murdock prayed to himself as the taxi he was in pulled to a stop outside of St. Agnes Orphanage. 

"Alright," the cab driver said in a thick New York accent. "Here you are."

"Come along, Matthew," the nun who had gone to pick him up from his temporary foster home said as she got out of the cab. "Don't dawdle."

"Sorry, Sister," Matt mumbled, trailing behind her.

He gripped his cane tight and adjusted his sunglasses, taking a deep breath before following her towards the entrance.

He fumbled for the railing as his cane bumped into a set of steps, slowly and carefully making his way upwards towards his home for at least the next nine years.

"Your things will be brought to your room," Sister… (Bernadine? Beatrice? Bonaventure? Matt couldn't remember, but he knew it was something with a B) said as they headed inside and down a winding hallway. "In the meantime you'll join the other children outside for recreation. Dinner is at six, nighttime prayer at six-thirty. Don't be late for either."

She opened another door and led Matt out into what he assumed was a backyard area.

He could hear other children laughing and yelling as they chased each other around.

"Ah, Sister Maggie," Sister B-name said as they walked up to another nun. "This is our new ward, Matthew. I'm entrusting him into your care -- I have urgent business to attend to."

"Of course, Sister Bernadette," Sister Maggie replied.

Sister Bernadette! That was it.

"Matthew." With that, Sister Bernadette turned and walked away.

Matt stood near Sister Maggie, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly a timid voice said, "Hi. I like your glasses."

Matt turned towards the voice. It sounded female, maybe slightly younger than him? Matt wasn't quite sure. "Thanks," he said warily.

"Are you an orphan too?"

The sting of losing his father hit Matt all over again. "Yeah," he said quietly.

A small hand slipped into his. "It's okay, I'll be your friend. I'm Y/N."

"Matt."

"There's some tables over here. Come sit with me."

Matt allowed Y/N to lead him to the tables, somehow already trusting of the young girl.

"So how old are you?" Matt asked as they sat. 

"Eight," Y/N replied. "You?"

"I'm nine." Matt paused. "Have you lived here long?"

"Yeah, since I was two. It's not that bad here, you'll get used to it. Just don't make Sister Bernadette mad, 'cause she's really strict. The other nuns are pretty nice though, especially Sister Maggie. She lets me bring books to outdoor recreation, and if we have to stay inside because it's raining, she'll let me spend recreation time in the library."

"Is that what you were doing just now? Reading?"

"Mhmm. I just started ' Where the Red Fern Grows' , have you ever read it?"

Matt shook his head. "Oh, um, no. What's it about?"

"It's about a boy who goes hunting with his two dogs in the mountains. I can read it to you if you want. I'm not too far into it so I don't mind starting over."

Matt nodded, relieved that Y/N hadn't made a big deal about his visual impairment. Most people other than his father had either treated Matt like a pariah or as someone to be pitied, but she didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

"Okay. We'll have to start tomorrow though because recreation time is almost over."

Matt nodded again. "Okay."

As if on cue, the church bells began to ring. 

Y/N stood. "Come on, you can sit next to me at dinner."

Matt smiled, relieved to not have to sit by himself. "Yeah, okay."

Y/N took his hand once again. She led him inside and down a hall, then turned left and opened a door. "Okay, so this is the cafeteria. All you have to do is sit and wait and Sister Gertrude will bring your food, but we can't eat until we say grace."

Matt nodded. "Okay."

A few seconds later a tray was set in front of him.

Matt wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of overcooked meat and dried-out tomato sauce. "What is it?"

"Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, a brownie, and milk."

"Alright, children, bow your heads for grace," a different voice interrupted.

Matt bowed his head and waited.

"Bless us, O Lord…" the voice began intoning. 

" And these thy gifts," Y/N and the other children joined in. "Which we are about to receive, in thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, amen."

"Amen," Matt echoed. He carefully reached out, feeling his way around the table in order to try to find his utensils without accidentally sticking his hand into his food.

Y/N took Matt's hand and placed it on top of his fork. "Here you go."

Matt smiled over at her as he picked it up. "Thank you."

He began eating in silence. There was something different about Y/N, something Matt couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt comfortable with her in a way he hadn't felt with anyone since his accident.

He wasn't able to think about it for too long, because Y/N began speaking again. "After dinner we all go to the chapel for evening prayer, then it's time to get ready for lights out. I can help you find your room if you want. Everyone's name is on their door."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that'd be good. Thanks."

"And actually, um, I can come get you for breakfast in the morning too? Just until you learn your way around."

"Okay."

They continued eating their dinner in silence, and as soon as Matt was done Y/N stood. "Come on, we have to get to the chapel. Sister Bernadette doesn't like it if we're late."

She led Matt outside then through a courtyard to the chapel, slipping into a pew right before the church bells signaled 6:30.

A minute later Matt heard footsteps heading to the altar.

Y/N leaned towards Matt. "That's Father Reynolds," she whispered. "He's the priest here."

Matt nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good evening, children," Father Reynolds said in slightly accented English.

"Good evening, Father," Matt replied along with the other kids.

"Let us begin our evening prayer. 'In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit'. "

Matt joined in on the Sign of the Cross. "Amen."

Father Reynolds said an opening prayer, then led them in reciting the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, the Hail Holy Queen, and the Doxology.

"How many more prayers are there?" Matt whispered to Y/N as everyone recited the Apostles' Creed.

"Just one more after this," Y/N whispered back. "Then we do a moment of silent intention, then Father Reynolds will say a blessing."

"Oh, okay." Matt was about to ask which one it was when everyone began reciting the final prayer.

"Angel of God, my guardian dear," they intoned, "to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen."

Matt sucked in a breath as a thought struck him. He had asked God to help him be brave, and not even 2 minutes later Y/N had come up to him and immediately made him feel comfortable. And not only that, but she had even offered to be his friend. Maybe He sent me a guardian angel.

He turned his head towards Y/N slightly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. He knew she was real, because she had held his hand, but he admittedly wasn't sure what exactly angels were supposed to be like in human form.

He was jarred out of his thoughts as Y/N took his hand again. "Okay, let's go find your room."

She led Matt back out through the courtyard and up the steps of the orphanage. "Girls are on the second floor and boys are on the third."

They went up a couple of flights of stairs and down another hallway, then Y/N stopped in front of a door. "Here's your room. Bathroom is right across the hall."

"Oh. Okay." Matt hesitated. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome." Y/N paused. "We're not allowed in each other's rooms after lights out, so I'll see you tomorrow morning before breakfast?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"It's at 7, so I'll come get you around 6:45 if that's okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

To Matt's surprise, Y/N gave him a hug. "Good night, Matt."

Matt hugged her back, the last of his nerves fading away in her warm embrace. Maybe life as an orphan wasn't going to be so scary, especially with an angel by his side.