#imagine witnessing this man as he's devouring a heart at the altar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cyberneticlagomorph · 3 years ago

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Right.

Let's get this over with.

Deep breaths.

Everyone is seated or otherwise filing into to the castle proper.

The crowd is spilling out onto the spacious lawns, provided a window to the rest of the proceedings by the floating screens that have migrated here with the rest of the parade.

A web of illusions as thick as a grown man's arm has been woven around the back end of the castle, forcing people to ignore the construction noises and workers disappearing into the haze like a trail of ants.

The cameras snap on again.

>> 🔴 Broadcasting live from Wonderland

The inside of the castle is a stained glass dream, a kaleidoscope of colors, some outside the realm of human imagination or comprehension.

At the altar at the end of the aisle is an elf, 10 feet tall, glowing from within like a star wrapped in chitin.

Their golden eyes blaze brightly, mothlike wings fluttering with the slightest breeze. They are dressed in sheer golden silk draped over their form in strange and alluring ways.

Trumpets blare, blown by white pookas in silver armor, the tips of their ears and claws dyed red.

Jack approaches, the crowd outside parting like water to make way for him. He too, is draped in sheer fabric, golds and reds blending into wine colored swirls. His face and ears are covered by a veil, but he seems sure of his footing as he makes his way to the altar.

The elf takes Jack's hands, and speaks a burning Word into the prince's right palm. The synthetic flesh sizzles audibly, but Jack does nothing more than stiffen.

When the elf speaks, their voice is like a thousand sticky summer mornings heralded by birds and the specters of icecream trucks that never seem to stop on your street, "With this Word you carry the weight of your kingdom's wellbeing, you suffer their pain and their loss as if it were your own." The elf curls Jack's still burning hand into a tight fist, the glow of sunfire visible through the clenched fingers.

The elf takes Jack's left hand and speaks a freezing Word into his palm, "With this Word you bear the weight of empty bellies, hungry mouths, famine before feasting, sickness, and the unyielding jaws of winter... you carry the hunger of your people as if it were your own."

Jack's skin crackles and blackens with frostbite, skin splitting as he curls it into a fist like the other. Droplets of sapphire blood fall onto the altar.

Jack doesn't flinch, he doesn't cry out, he grits his teeth and bears it.

The elf takes the veil from Jack's face, letting those clenched fists fall to the prince's side. The elf takes Jack's face in both hands, and speaks to the crowd of onlookers as fire and ice slowly devour Jack's arms up to his shoulders, his neck, his jaw.

"Today, we gather to witness the crowning of a prince washed in blood, fed by tears... he who would defy fate and devour gods, the Prince of Strays," Jack is still, so still, any tears he cares to shed become ice and steam as his skull is swallowed by the Words and responsibilities he has to bear, "I have see his hearts, and what crawls within them, the anger he has nesting there, the love that tempers his blade... he will be a good prince I think, a misfit among misfits..."

The elf presses their lips to Jack's forehead and Jack goes limp in their grasp as the ice and fire fade away. The pooka sinks to his knees, balled fists held gently in the elf's hands.

"You have suffered enough, little one, your people have suffered enough... protect them, with teeth and claws and the fire I have given you... do you promise to protect them, to keep them healthy and whole, safe and fed for as long as there is breath in your body?"

Jack raises his head, chest heaving with the strain, his voice is ragged with pain and sharp with determination, "I promise to protect my people, I promise to guide them, I promise to keep them healthy, whole, safe, and fed for as long as there is breath in my body and fire in my hearts."

The elf smiles like the sunrise on the best day of your life, "A fine prince indeed."

A crown of white and blue porcelain is brought to the altar on a pillow of black velvet. The elf takes the crown and places it on Jack's head, earning cheers from the crowd outside.

(( art by @infolane ))

Jack is hauled unsteadily to his feet, and given a moment to catch his breath before the elf presses a single finger to his forehead. The sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone is deafening and the pain is so hot and sudden that Jack can do nothing but stand there open mouthed until it is over.

A set of shimmering wings bursts forth from Jack's back, shuddering as the air hits them. Fluid drips from them in viscous ropes, splattering as they are suddenly unfurled and revealed in their full glory.

They seem to have spring from the tattoo on Jack's back and as such share a similar appearance.

(( art by @chiefyarts ))

The only sound Jack can produce is something like a strangled laugh as he curls a tender wing forward to touch it, wincing at the pain radiating along his entire spine.

The elf takes Jack's hand again and turns him around to face the crowd, their voice as thunderous and vibrant as a solar flare, "Wonderland, behold your Prince!"

The crowd goes wild and Jack can do nothing but cry.

#ic #coronation2121 #viewable icly #action post #body horror #blood #ask to tag

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arclucifer666 · 5 years ago

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The Auction

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2209

Summary: This is about what happens when Dean finds his brother tied up suggestively.

AO3

@@@@@

Agent Clegg is the Butterfly.

Sam curses himself for not realizing that.

Forcing wrists, chest, and ankles against leather in the last few minutes hasn't been effective. Still, Sam tries again.

Clegg sells people to monsters, sex slaves to be exact. And Sam will be next if Dean doesn't find him in time.

The transmission begins as soon as the computer and cameras are ready.

Sam keeps struggling with the bonds, despair preventing him from accepting the inevitable without a fight. Or he tries at least.

When the Butterfly announces his name, Sam feels his heart in his throat. The number of monsters bidding for him is frightening, and he can't help thinking about how sick it all is, even more when it only takes a few minutes for Sam to be sold. He can see on the computer screen that the bidder is a vampire, and the amount to be paid is impressive. But it's not comforting at all.

Clegg seems satisfied with the result, a sardonic smile on his face as he approaches Sam, and his breathing quickens, which doesn't help the clenching fear in his gut.

"It's time to show everyone that you're worth every penny," Clegg says while he starts undoing his belt.

Sam knows what's going to happen.

"Sorry, kid. It's showtime."

He pulls on the bonds with force, inevitable survival instinct forcing his body to go on alert. And that's when the door opens with a bang.

A shot echoes in the room. The man doesn't even see what hits him, falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Sam blinks a few times before his brain realizes he is safe. Dean found him in time.

"Sammy! Are you okay? What the Hell is going on here?"

Sam wants the safety of his brother's arms around him, but this isn't the right place for it. Then he forces himself to respond in the most stable voice he can muster, "Sex, they're auctioning people off for sex. And there is a demonstration before."

A demonstration is what Agent Clegg was starting to do when Dean interrupted him.

Sam sees anger on his brother's face. He knows that if the man weren't already dead he would suffer a painful death at Dean's hands again. The sharp look also checks Sam before looking around, eyes staring straight at the cameras.

"The damn freaks are watching, huh?"

"Yes," Sam answers, then remembering the vulnerability of his situation, tied to a table similar to those for gynecological examination and naked from the waist down, ass on display.

"Turn off the cameras and untie me," he says, forcing the bonds on his arms and legs again still without any result.

Dean seems to come out of his trance, "What?"

His brother's look changes to something predatory and dark as soon as he realizes Sam's condition.

"No," Dean says.

"Dean? What the fuck, man?" Sam struggles again, which is useless because there is no escape.

Dean puts his gun on the table next to Sam, and if he could get that, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot his big brother right now.

"At least once in your life, stop thinking with your cock," Sam's voice is strident, reflecting the hysteria he feels.

"C'mon, Sammy, it's going to be fun."

His brother takes off his coat and tie. There is no doubt that Dean is impressive like that, intent on devouring Sam all over his face. And Sam likes the feeling of helplessness every time they use handcuffs or ropes in sex. But the timing is wrong, not to mention that everything is being streamed online.

"Let me go, Dean," he tries again.

His brother's expression is one that not even ten vampires could dissuade him from his goal, however. Determination is one of Dean's most significant personality traits, one that Sam has to deal with and often fight against to maintain some of his own independence.

Green eyes fix on Sam's ass, hungry and appraising, and it makes him feel like an offering at an altar of sacrifices.

When agile fingers open the leather holding Sam's chest and the buttons on his white shirt, pushing it to the side and leaving his belly and chest exposed, he knows that Dean won't give up.

"You'll need your shirt clean to get out of here," Dean states the obvious.

"C'mon, Dean. Be reasonable."

The smirk on Dean's face isn't reasonable at all.

His brother kneels where Sam's ass is at the edge of the table, and the next protest dies with the first lick over his hole. The hands on Sam's buttocks are cold, but the heat on Dean's tongue is abrasive.

"Oh, God…"

Sam's attempt to prevent his moans is pathetic, and this is all because of the tongue assaulting him. Rimming is one of his weaknesses, and his idiot of a brother knows that very well.

"Sammy, we're tough guys, and people are watching us," Dean interrupts what he's doing, a smirk playing on his wet lips. And fuck, Sam wants that mouth back on his ass, consequences be damned. After almost being raped by Clegg, he deserves a great orgasm.

"Monsters, Dean. They are mons—"

Dean licks and sucks again. Sam's coherence disappears. His big brother has his face tucked between his asscheeks, fucking him mercilessly with that sinful tongue. Sam's cock goes from limp to erect so fast that it makes him dizzy. He'd no idea how much he’s needed it until now, still knowing he'll complain because of the burn caused by Dean's stubble afterward.

Sam loves and hates that Dean can reduce him to a moaning mess with just his tongue. He doesn't even want to imagine what those people watching are thinking of him. Then he remembers they are monsters and it doesn't matter anymore.

Dean goes for it, licking and sucking, and Sam squirms his hole against the long organ. He needs Dean deeper and tries to show what he wants without having to express it out loud.

The tongue disappears then, making Sam groan in frustration.

"Do you want anything, Sammy?" Dean gives him a leering look.

Fucker. His brother has no right to know him so well and take advantage of him on top of that.

"No," he lies.

"Are you sure?" The little shit licks his lips suggestively.

And Sam needs that tongue back. He pulls his arms and legs, causing only the leather to rub against his sensitive skin.

"Please, Dean."

"What?" His big brother has an irritating smirk on his face.

"Deeper," it is whispered.

"I didn't hear that," the bastard insists.

"I need you to eat me deeper."

This time Sam sees the numbers on the computer screen increase rapidly, even though the auction is over.

"Do you love it? Don't you? Your big brother's tongue fucking your sweet hole?"

A finger touches the wrinkled skin, which makes Sam more desperate for Dean's tongue.

"Please..." He begs, to Hell with his remaining dignity.

A huge satisfied smile is the last thing Sam sees before Dean's tongue goes back to his hole. His brother laps at his entrance and Sam moans at how good it feels. Closing his eyes, Sam focuses on the sensations and how hot and soft Dean's tongue is. Step by step, he falls apart. And as always, Dean makes him come quickly and intensely, heat invading his body until it ends in white drops over his belly and chest.

When he can open his eyes again, he sees the mess he made on his own skin. So, the restrictions on his arms and ankles no longer bother him, and he remains passive on the table.

"Fu-ck."

"I'll get there," Dean jokes, getting back on his feet.

The swollen lips and saliva on it shouldn't be that sexy. Sam stares up at his big brother with half-lidded eyes while a hand collects some of the semen on his skin.

"It's not the best lube, but it's still better than spit," Dean says while doing a quick job with the improvised lube. The next thing Sam feels is his brother's cock against his entrance.

"De..." His vocal cords are still not working properly after a mind-blowing orgasm.

"Relax, Sammy. You just have to stay there, pretty and calm, and I'll do all the work."

What an idiot. As if Sam has another option at the moment.

When Dean pushes in, his muscles resist a little before giving in and receiving the big cock easily.

"Fuck, Sammy, so good."

Without being in a position to do anything, Sam just groans in response, his limp member trying to get hard again prematurely. The impulses start as soon as Dean is buried to the hilt, one hand gripping Sam's waist. And it makes him think of the helplessness of his situation. Dean is free to do whatever he wants with him, and while it is scary, there is also excitement with all the possibilities available.

"I love feeling your slutty hole around my cock."

Dean can't keep his mouth shut during sex, but Sam likes it because it's familiar, even when the lines sound like the worst kind of porn.

"You're so fucking tight. It doesn't feel like you take it up the ass on a regular basis."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam says, mainly because those freaks watching them don't need all the details about their sex life.

Dean raises an eyebrow at the unusual order, but he shut up. As a result, hips increase their speed, and all becomes pounding skin, a repetition of moans and grunts, and even some incoherent cries, which Sam will deny later, of course.

Suddenly he realizes that Dean is so fucking deep, filling spaces that should never be empty. He feels split open and belonged, so entirely that everyone watching can see it on his face probably. They won't have any doubts about who owns him. And Dean shows his dominance with each hard thrust, the unquestionable control over Sam's body. So, it's inevitable for Sam to give everything he has, his body and his submission to Dean. No restrictions. No boundaries. What they can't see, though, is that Dean also owns his heart, always and forever.

A second orgasm breaks through Sam's body, unexpected and just as intense as the first. His scream isn't manly at all, and a smile lights up his big brother's face, but Dean doesn't say anything, just pushing towards his own orgasm, eyes fixed on Sam's.

He marvels at the fervor he witnesses, and then heat invades his interiors. Dean screams his name with a passion, reaffirming the unbreakable bond that connects them. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the pleasure still running through his body, never wanting it to end, but the sound of gunshots brings him back to reality, making him open his eyes. Sam then realizes that Dean pulled out of him, picked up his gun, and is destroying the cameras installed in the room.

"Show's over," Dean says in his usual hunter way.

"Jesus Christ, Dean! Can you untie me now?" The awareness of his state returns with full force.

"Maybe," Dean says, a devilish grin on his face.

"Dean!" Sam hopes to be showing all the indignation that he feels right now.

"Just kidding, dude."

Dean turns his attention to him and in seconds Sam is free. His movements aren't as fast as he would like, but he manages to button his shirt and get off the table without help, despite the pain radiating from his ass to his legs. Semen is definitely discarded as lube.

As soon as Sam puts on his underwear, the door opens again with a bang. And this time it's Donna with a gun in her hand.

"Sam? Dean?"

Dean walks in front of Sam, hiding his half-naked body from Donna.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay, Sam?"

Dean answers for him, "He's fine. I got here in time. When he's dressed, we'll meet you outside."

'Okay' is all Sam hears before the door closes softly.

Blushing, Sam puts on his pants as fast as he can.

"If she paid attention to your open belt and the lack of his coat and tie, she knows, you moron."

Donna is a police officer, and Sam does not doubt that it was easy for her to deduce what actually happened here.

Dean looks at him, his characteristic smirk—and annoying by the way—on his face. "She accepted monsters were real, so I don't think kink sex between brothers is going to be a problem at all."

"Do you have to say it that way, Dean? Now I feel dirty."

Sam ends with his belt, breathing relieved by the feeling of security that the clothing offers him.

"Nothing that a bath won't fix, bitch," Dean laughs.

"Jerk," he can't resist and ends up laughing too.

"C'mon show is over. For real this time," his big brother says.

Presentable again, they walk to the door, Dean leading the way.

"I think we should buy a table like that, Sammy."

"Absolutely not," it's his automatic response.

With one last look at the table, Sam leaves the room. And maybe he has to agree that Dean's idea is interesting.

Maybe.

#wincest #fanfic #ao3 #tied up sam #bottom!sam #top!dean

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gyromitra-esculenta · 5 years ago

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Because I’d been kind of goaded into it, Sabbath scene for The Bureau, mostly unedited - this happens long long after cornfields and nephilim.

Warnings: violence, character death (widowmaker), gore (with a bit of rituallistic cannibalism)

A restless murmur - a hushed whisper of dissent - spreads among the witches. It is the night of the Sabbath yet no moon shines on Château Guillard, the sky empty of its presence, and the stars are the eyes of the avaricious angels clawing at the reality in their hunger. Under the ruined archway, Queen of Spiders sits on her throne of the broken altar. Once, it had been the chapel of Saint Adelaide - the headless statue a shadow behind her - its hands sculpted stretched forward in a gesture of reverent supplication.

The witches part for there is an intruder between them they would not suffer any other night but this, the moonless one: a man. The witchcraft has always been a woman's domain, an no man had ever been a witch, such things were impossible and unheard of.

No such sentiment hinders Jack's step, his skin smeared with blue pigment in the patterns of clawed handprints and horned crown of warm bone on his head, his left hand buried in the fur of a great white wolf that had carried him here.

In her, he hears the discordant melodies of the void and the singing whispers, and she in turn sees the Herald of the Lost speaking in the voice of the angels.

"You had failed us, Herald," Queen of Spiders speaks from her perch. "Yours was a stillbirth."

A wrong choice that had made a right, his own words marking it as such, the last fragment passed from hand to hand, and an angel born dead to the world from a kiss.

"I have devoured the Moon. It is my right to challenge your rule, and no right of yours to refuse me."

"You, a man, dare to challenge me for my rule?" She snarls rising to her feet, tall and indignant, and Jack turns, not to her, but to the witches in attendance, the wolf circling him with a warning growl from the maw kept low to the ground as it casts around the glare of its eye.

“I come to you with the moon in my belly. I come to you with my brow adorned by the Lord of the Hunt and the blessings of Herne on my thighs. I come to you bedded by the Seven Year King."

He looks back to her over his shoulder, offering her a humorless smile full of teeth.

"What have you to show for yourself, Queen of Spiders, but a crown forged with the still hearts of your dead lovers?”

She throws the purple swath of fabric off her shoulders, fingers enveloping the hilt under the bejeweled hand guard, and points the tip of the rapier at him.

"So be it then, Herald, I'll bear your insolence no more."

Jack brings to his lips his own blade: forged with bog iron as is her crown, tempered in the heart of dwarven fires, cooled with Morgaine's tears, sharpened on a single hair of Freyja's, and bathed in the gaze of Hecate.

They circle each other, vipers with venomous fangs poised to strike, bare feet on the slippery stone cautious - Queen of Spiders rigid and cold, him flowing and warmed with the moonlight.

A moth's wings flutter in the air and they clash, the rapier grinding on the knife.

The dance is an intricate one, not a pause between the ebb and flow the Moon dictates, breaths curling in wisps of condensation as neither of the them gains the advantage - until the rapier pierces his side and Jack snarls, snatching her wrist and pulling her close. The blade runs him through but the knife is on her neck and his lips at her ear, the fight finished in his favor.

"I want you to know," Jack whispers, "that even when he was yours, and the mask was unbroken, he still came to me when I was ten and out there, in the cornfields."

He pushes the knife in, slowly, with satisfaction trickling down his spine and warmth unfolding in his belly.

Queen of Spider meets the end of her rule with sneering dignity, hand growing lax and slipping from the rapier as she falls to the stones as the blood pools under her.

He rips the blade out of his stomach, turning in silence, his gaze sliding over the transfixed witches; Ana in the back giving him a small nod of approval, both ravens sitting atop her shoulders, and Gabriel by her side, his face contorted in a mixture of worry and bewilderment.

The rapier, thrown to the ground, clatters in the quiet.

Jack reaches deep into himself and extends his arm towards the sky putting the moon back in its rightful place. Lost angels close their hungering eyes and the sweet cadence of the whispering void under his skin subsides.

"You all bear witness to my right to rule, as it has been witnessed by the Moon. Is here any witch that would challenge it?" Unrest and disquiet, yet not one of them steps forward. "Let it be known then there is no challenger, and only the Moon will judge me."

He kneels by the body, the bloodied knife held fast in his hands, and stabs its breast - the bones crack under the repeated onslaught, still hot red splatters on his face, and only after he is sure the work is done, he pries open the ribs, fingers grasping at the heart inside.

The crown of the witch is wrought with bog iron, and the heart of the witch turns into bog iron, her power and her weakness. Witches guard their hearts, hide them under the mountains or in the skies - but to rule the witch needs her heart, even if that heart is a heart no more.

Jack bites into it, chews through the muscle as blood trickles down his chin, and, with his throat seizing, swallows.

The successor always carries a part of their predecessor with them, and with it, all of those that came before. It had been a young witch that cut Hecate's heart out and put it in the sky - and, in turn, it had been the young witch's heart that became the first crown.

Jack approaches the broken altar and places the heart into the waiting hands of the headless statue of the saint.

He takes the stone-cold throne under its shadow, the wolf at his right laying down with its eye turned on the crowd and teeth bared for all to see and know. The light of the moon spills inside through the collapsed roof illuminating the altar, moths dancing in the shine.

The statue shifts without sound - moves as if made of flesh and blood, still a crumbling stone - fingers gently lowering the wreath of thorns to rest on Jack's head betwixt the horns of Herne's crown before it becomes immobile yet again.

"By the law of the first witch, Hecate, Queen of Night, I am your king," Jack speaks, his voice carrying in the hall. "Henceforth, all debts owed to Queen of Night are paid in full. The war of hers is over, and no witch will side with singing whispers. Those are my decrees."

Cold slowly seeps into his hands and feet, the kind that hurts to the bone unlike the pain that numbs his side, blood oozing from the wound and gathering between his crossed legs. His stomach turns with disgust.

"Walpurgisnacht is ending, you can swear your allegiance to me."

The first is witch of the woods, all three of them, with small seashells sewn into their hair clinking melodiously. The girl giggles when she kisses his knee, the crone lowers herself leaning on her cane.

"Lead us into new as you are wont to do," the mother whispers.

A procession of witches follows, some offering him their words - the most keeping to themselves - until the moon is gone from the night sky and only Gabriel and Ana remain.

The wolf snarls at them approaching Jack. Neither of them pays it any attention.

"I think my aunt kissed your knee," Gabriel, holding bundled fur, speaks at the same time as Jack lets go of his focus, shaking violently with his eyes open wide, frantic words leaving his lips.

"I'm going to hurl."

True to his words, he turns left, sliding off the altar, sticky clumpy blood between his thighs - god, the feeling is horrendous - finds blindly purchase with his palms, and retches. It still doesn't come out. It won't. The knowledge only makes him gag and heave more. Between the bouts he barely notices being wrapped in the fur and shifted, something's propping his forehead - leather, glove.

Slowly, he regains the control of his breathing, the awkward position borderline uncomfortable but now Jack cannot imagine anything better. His feet are smushed between Gabriel's thighs, palms pressed to his chest, pinned by his arm, the heat painful but it's the good kind of pain chasing away the ache in his bones.

"Fuck, you're cold."

"No shit," Jack murmurs. "She told me, one king will fall..."

"...in his place another will rise," Gabriel finishes. "I think I liked it more when I thought I made her up."

"You've got, you know... paint, face."

Gabriel laughs in relief.

"Shower's been out of the question."

"Brought the guns."

"Excalibur and Caliburn would help if..."

"I'd either be mad or dead on the floor," Jack cuts him off, coughing in the middle of the sentence and wincing as he finishes.

"But you did it. We have to get you patched up."

"We did it." Jack closes his eyes, letting the weariness overtake him for a moment. "Banshee's next."

#sometimes I write #bureau-verse #r76 #reaper76 #a big mish-mash of mythos #too much story in the story

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the-elf-mahat · 7 years ago

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A Broken World

(( Prompted by @firebiter‘s post here! CW below the cut for blood and implied torture. Also a small caveat about Mahat’s backstory, which we’re touching on here: it’s lorebendy. However, you’re welcome to consider her delusional if you don’t want to push canon; I tend to leave it an open question just how sane she actually is. ))

Something was wrong. Mahat awoke from deep sleep with her ears twitching, a strange pressure building in the air. The hour was so early it was nearly very late, and the distressed howls of dogs and other creatures could be heard echoing even through the thick stone walls of their Ironforge home. She slipped out of bed to dress quickly and soundlessly in the dark, before making her way outside. There were others about, dwarves in dressing gowns looking haggard and complaining to their neighbors about the noise. A few were heading to the city gates. Mahat joined them, eager curiosity mingling with a dull sense of dread in her stomach.

Outside, the air was crisp and frigid, the sky black with scattered stars beginning to fade before the dawn. But instead of gentle moonlight illuminating the mountainside all around them, the white snow was tinged a sickly green, reflected from the monstrous body looming above.

It was a broken planet. Its shattered silhouette and swirling storms of felfire seemed to take up half the sky, like a doom-laden promise.

Mahat and the others gaped upwards, stunned and awed into silence, until someone began to scream. Another followed suit, and in short order chaos had broken out, as some panicked and others tried to comfort the panicking, some tried to rush back inside only to collide with those who were pushing outside to see the terror for themselves. Mahat barely noticed the impending riot, darting away from the clamor and crowd, feeling her way along the mountain until she reached a secluded crevasse and curled up inside. She moved by instinct and memory, every other sense useless to her as reality seemed to warp and twist in her mind. Her breath grew faster and her eye was locked wide open, fixed on the sick wrongness above. From the shadowed places in her head, she heard their voices call out.

D'ye remember?

Do you remember, little one…?

Where have we seen that before…?

Three worlds, three moments layered on top of each other, Mahat's body and senses experiencing wild vertigo as she saw through three sets of eyes, heard through three sets of ears, felt three different hearts racing. And there was so much pain…

In one world (the real world, she told herself, and hoped desperately it was true) she was whole, frightened but safe for the moment, shivering on a mountainside. Alone. Not alone.

In another she was dying, slick blood flowing from the ritual symbols and web-like patterns carved deep into every part of her skin. Green flames blazed from the shackles at her wrists and ankles, holding her down to the stone altar, melting and searing her flesh. Rough, strange voices chanted in an unholy tongue somewhere in the shadows beyond her sight, but above her she could see cold stars.

In another world she wished for death. A man with cruel eyes and a kind smile, a sorcerer, promised her oblivion soon, soon, he had finally found a use for her outside the close, dark room where he kept her and played with her brain and broke her body (it was justice, he said, they all said, she had done such terrible things).

“I want you to introduce me to someone,” he teased, close and warm as a lover, “They've been whispering to me in my dreams, speaking of power, a way to burn the filth and weakness and disgusting hypocrisy out of our world.” She heard the words now, she had heard the words then, but she hadn't understood them—she'd been out of her wits with fear and pain by then, barely more than an animal. Now she comprehended fully. Now her stomach clenched as he murmured, “You'll help me, little thief. You'll call them here. How could any god or demon resist a soul as fascinatingly twisted as yours?” His fingers rested on her collarbone above her heart, and he smiled. “You are the perfect--”

SACRIFICE.

The coarse chanting grew louder and faster, and she writhed against the felfire restraints. A gnarled green hand hovered over her flesh, sealing her gaping wounds into twisted ropes of hardened gray scar tissue. The pain did not lessen. In fact it sunk deeper, past skin into muscle and sinew, past these into bone, somehow, and then further still, until her nervous system blazed like a star and she thought she might only be pain that had imagined it was once a woman. The chanting was practically a howl now, one mad sound from dozens of throats, and she could no longer see the stars, only green flames rising higher. A void opened before her mind and began to draw her in, eating her memories piece by piece, gnawing on her fears and hopes, slavering as it devoured every drop of her self.

WHO AM I?

He ripped her from her body and reshaped her, made a coalescing orb of dark magic from her essence. But she could still feel the raw edges of her sanity bleeding, still watch as he burned the husk of her body, until it was a charred ruin that a simple brush of his foot crumbled into gray ash. She screamed without a voice, wept without eyes, for the release of a death she had begged for and been denied. The soul was immortal, she had been taught. No rest for the wicked. Not even in their tombs.

There was a ritual, incantations, surges of crackling power and a night wind tearing at the sorcerer’s robes as he used her torment to craft a gateway. She saw a tall, pale man in armor, winged and horned, step through. She saw the sorcerer bow before him. Then she was elsewhere, her mind torn across galaxies or realities, images fragmenting and scattering before her like light from a prism. A vast, broken planet, tendrils of verdant green fire reaching out to corrupt and consume everything they touched. A dry tawny planet, a place called home, shattering apart and beginning to burn. A little world, mostly blue, lit by two moons, where something was calling her.

All around her was seething void, seeking to tear her apart and swallow her into nothing. But somehow, she was caught by that small blue world, anchored and drawn in by a force beyond her understanding. It was like an unnatural absence, a place where something once was and now was not but must be. A vacuum pulling her inexorably, a taut string connecting two moments across time and space that when plucked, sounded a chord of multiversal harmony.

Mahat opened her eye, vision now singular and clear. She unclenched her jaw and forced her hands open from the tight fists they'd been curled into. She took a deep breath, and looked up.

The broken planet was still there. And there were still screams in the distance. They saw it too.

“Aye, I… remember,” she murmured to herself in hoarse disbelief. “I saw it… in th' dark places b'tween. I saw it—we was there. I en't crazy.”

A bleak chuckle sounded from the corner of her mind. “Congratubloodylations, enjoy tha' feelin' while y'kin. Cuz th' whole world's abou' ta go fuckin' mad.”

#wyrmrest accord #wyrmrest rp #i wrote a thing #about the elf #mahat selfie

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giftofshewbread · 5 years ago

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Can You Imagine?

:: By Randy Nettles Published on: April 21, 2020

Have you ever wondered or dreamed about what it will be like when we see our Savior, Jesus Christ, at the Rapture? Or, for some people, it could even be at the end of the Great Tribulation, when Jesus returns to the earth at Armageddon in all of His glory as King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Jesus is the 2nd Person of the Triune Godhead. His name of old was Jehovah. He is our Lord and Savior and has a glorious countenance, for He is Almighty God.

I can imagine His appearance will overwhelm our senses with His beauty, power, and Godliness. Here is a great song by MercyMe, singing about what it will be like when we see Him for the first time and how we will react to His glory. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_lrrq_opng. You might want to listen to it while you read this article. The lyrics are at the bottom of the page. My thanks to Cynthia Nuara for pioneering this technique of incorporating relevant songs, lyrics, or classic literature within the article itself.

This Biblically-based article consists of six Jewish prophets of God who saw the Lord God (in one form or another) in His magnificence and glory. Some of them saw him more than once. There were ten sightings which were in the form of visions, theophanies, or where the Lord’s appearance was hidden by dark clouds, smoke, and fire. The first reaction most of them had was one of fright. The next reaction was one of awe and wonder. The third reaction would be one of overwhelming love. Of course, we can only imagine…

1) Moses and the children of Israel see the glory of the Lord on Mount Sinai

“Then it came to pass on the third day, in the morning, that there were thunderings and lightnings, and a thick cloud on the mountain; and the sound of the trumpet was very loud, so that all the people who were in the camp trembled. And Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was completely in smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire. Its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mountain quaked greatly. And when the blast of the trumpet sounded long and became louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him by voice. Then the Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on the top of the mountain. And the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain, and Moses went up” (Exodus 19:16-20).

“Now all the people witnessed the thunderings, the lightning flashes, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking; and when the people saw it, they trembled and stood afar off. Then they said to Moses, ‘You speak with us, and we will hear; but let not God speak with us, lest we die.’ And Moses said to the people, ‘Do not fear; for God has come to test you, and that His fear may be before you, so that you may not sin.’ So the people stood afar off, but Moses drew near the thick darkness where God was” (Exodus 20:18-21).

“Then went up Moses, and Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu, and 70 of the elders of Israel; and they saw the God of Israel and there was under His feet as it were a paved work of a sapphire stone, and as it were the body of heaven in His clearness. And upon the nobles of the children of Israel he laid not his hand, also they saw God, and did eat and drink. And the Lord said unto Moses, Come up to me into the mount, and be there: and I will give you tables of stone (10 Commandments), and a law, and commandments which I have written; that you may teach them” (Exodus 24:9-12). This was a theophany of the Lord whereas He took the form of a mighty angel.

“And Moses went up into the mount, and a cloud covered the mount. And the glory of the Lord abode upon Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it 6 days. And the 7th day He called unto Moses out of the midst of the cloud. And the sight of the glory of the Lord was like devouring fire on the top of the mount in the eyes of the children of Israel. And Moses went into the midst of the cloud, and got him up into the mount: and Moses was in the mount 40 days and 40 nights” (Exodus 24:15-18).

“So the Lord said to Moses, ‘I will also do this thing that you have spoken; for you have found grace in My sight, and I know you by name.’ And Moses said, ‘Please, show me Your glory.’ Then He said, ‘I will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before you. I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.’ But He said, ‘You cannot see My face; for no man shall see Me, and live.’ And the Lord said, ‘Here is a place by Me, and you shall stand on the rock. So it shall be, while My glory passes by, that I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand while I pass by. Then I will take away My hand, and you shall see My back; but My face shall not be seen'” (Exodus 33:17-23).

After Moses saw God’s back and received the second 10 Commandments from the Lord, his face shone from the encounter. Aaron and the children of Israel were afraid to come near him. Moses called them together and gave them all the commandments that the Lord had given him. And when Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil on his face. “But whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with Him, he would take the veil off until he came out; and he would come out and speak to the children of Israel whatever he had been commanded” (Exodus 34:33-34).

No one can see the face of the Lord, in His Shekinah glory, and live. The only way you can see His face is through a vision, theophany, or in some environment where His features are obscured. However, when we are raptured and receive our new spiritual bodies, that are made for eternity, we will be able to gaze upon the face of God forevermore.

2) David sees a glorious theophany of the Lord in the form of a mighty angel

“Then David lifted his eyes and saw the angel of the Lord standing between earth and heaven, having in his hand a drawn sword stretched out over Jerusalem. So David and the elders, clothed in sackcloth, fell on their faces” (1 Chronicles 21:16). “For the tabernacle of the Lord and the altar of the burnt offering, which Moses had made in the wilderness, were at that time at the high place in Gibeon. But David could not go before it to inquire of God, for he was afraid of the sword of the angel of the Lord” (1 Chronicles 21:29-30).

While David did not see the Lord in all His glory, it was a sight that was so frightening and powerful that I had to mention it.

3) Isaiah has a vision of the Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple. Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one cried to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; The whole earth is full of His glory!’ And the posts of the door were shaken by the voice of him who cried out, and the house was filled with smoke. So I said: ‘Woe is me, for I am undone! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; For my eyes have seen the King, The Lord of hosts‘” (Isaiah 6:1-5).

4) Isaiah has a vision of the Lord Jesus Christ when he returns to the Earth at Armageddon

“Who is this who comes from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah, this One who is glorious in His apparel, traveling in the greatness of His strength? —’I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save.’ Why is Your apparel red, and Your garments like one who treads in the winepress? ‘I have trodden the winepress alone, and from the peoples no one was with Me. For I have trodden them in My anger, and trampled them in My fury; Their blood is sprinkled upon My garments, and I have stained all My robes. For the day of vengeance is in My heart, and the year of My redeemed has come. I looked, but there was no one to help, and I wondered That there was no one to uphold; Therefore My own arm brought salvation for Me; and My own fury, it sustained Me. I have trodden down the peoples in My anger, made them drunk in My fury, and brought down their strength to the earth'” (Isaiah 63:1-6).

5) Isaiah describes the Lord at Mount Sinai and hints at the Rapture

“Oh, that You would rend the heavens! That You would come down! That the mountains might shake at Your presence— As fire burns brushwood, As fire causes water to boil—To make Your name known to Your adversaries, That the nations may tremble at Your presence! When You did awesome things for which we did not look, You came down, The mountains shook at Your presence. For since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, nor has the eye seen, Oh God, beside You [Jesus], what He has prepared for them that love Him. You [Jesus] meet him [at the Rapture] who rejoices and does righteousness, those that remember You in Your ways” (Isaiah 64:1-5).

6) Ezekiel sees a vision of God, the Son, in His glory

“And above the firmament over their heads was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like a sapphire stone; on the likeness of the throne was a likeness with the appearance of a man high above it. Also from the appearance of His waist and upward I saw, as it were, the color of amber with the appearance of fire all around within it; and from the appearance of His waist and downward I saw, as it were, the appearance of fire with brightness all around. Like the appearance of a rainbow in a cloud on a rainy day, so was the appearance of the brightness all around it. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell upon my face, and I heard a voice of one who spoke” (Ezekiel 1:26-28).

This description of the Lord is similar to the one Moses gave in Exodus 24:9.

7) Daniel sees God, the Father, in a dream/vision. Glory!

“I watched till thrones were put in place, and the Ancient of Days [the Father] was seated; His garment was white as snow, and the hair of His head was like pure wool. His throne was a fiery flame, and its wheels a burning fire; A fiery stream issued and came forth from before Him. A thousand thousands ministered to Him; and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before Him. The court was seated, and the books were opened” (Daniel 7:9-10).

“I was watching in the night visions, and behold, one like the Son of Man [Jesus], coming with the clouds of heaven! He came to the Ancient of Days [the Father], and they brought him near before Him. And there was given to him dominion and glory and a kingdom; that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve Him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and His kingdom the one which shall not be destroyed” (Daniel 7:13-14).

8) Daniel sees God, the Son (Jesus/Jehovah), in a vision

“I was watching; and the same horn [Antichrist] was making war against the saints, and prevailing against them, until the Ancient of Days came, and a judgment was made in favor of the saints of the Most High, and the time came for the saints to possess the kingdom” (Daniel 7:21-22).

Three times in Daniel 7, God is called the Ancient of Days. 3 is the number for divine perfection, and 7 is the number for spiritual perfection. Chapter 7 of Daniel certainly verifies this idea.

The first two descriptions are talking about God, the Father, while the last one is in regard to God, the Son (Jesus), who will destroy the Antichrist at Armageddon. However, all three are described as the Ancient of Days.

In the New Testament, Jesus said, “I and My Father are one” (John 10:30). “Jesus said to him, ‘Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?” (John 14:9).

9) John has a vision of Jesus Christ in His glory and a theophany of the Holy Spirit

“Then I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the seven lampstands (the seven lampstands represent the seven-fold spirit of God, who is the third Person of the Triune God), One like the Son of Man, clothed with a garment down to the feet and girded about the chest with a golden band. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and His eyes like a flame of fire; His feet were like fine brass, as if refined in a furnace, and His voice as the sound of many waters; He had in His right hand seven stars, out of His mouth went a sharp two-edged sword, and His countenance was like the sun shining in its strength” (Revelation 1:12-16).

This description of Christ in His glory sounds exactly like the one given by Daniel regarding the Ancient of Days.

10) John has a vision of the Lord Jesus when He returns to the Earth at Armageddon. Glory! Glory!

“Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. He had a name written that no one knew except Himself. He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, followed Him on white horses. Now out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He should strike the nations. And He Himself will rule them with a rod of iron. He Himself treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS” (Revelation 19:11-16).

As Paul said (quoting Isaiah) in 1 Corinthians 2:9, “But as it is written, Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man [imagination], the things which God has prepared for them that love Him.” However, the next verse supersedes Paul’s previous statement.

“But God has revealed them unto us by His Spirit: for the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God” (1 Corinthians 2:10).

Amen, Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Randy Nettles

[email protected]

Lyrics to the song “I can only imagine” by MercyMe:

I can only imagine what it will be like When I walk by your side I can only imagine what my eyes will see When your face is before me I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory What will my heart feel? Will I dance for you Jesus Or in awe of You be still? Will I stand in your presence Or to my knees will I fall? Will I sing hallelujah? Will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine I can only imagine

I can only imagine when that day comes And I find myself standing in the Son I can only imagine when all I would do Is forever—forever worship You I can only imagine I can only imagine

I can only imagine…

#FLOTOS #Melania #Trump #1st #Lady #Birthday #April #26 #White #House #Washington #DC #Nation #Capital #Sunday #worship

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dailyofficereadings · 5 years ago

Text

Daily Office Readings September 09, 2019

Psalm 41

Assurance of God’s Help and a Plea for Healing

To the leader. A Psalm of David.

1 Happy are those who consider the poor;[a] the Lord delivers them in the day of trouble. 2 The Lord protects them and keeps them alive; they are called happy in the land. You do not give them up to the will of their enemies. 3 The Lord sustains them on their sickbed; in their illness you heal all their infirmities.[b]

4 As for me, I said, “O Lord, be gracious to me; heal me, for I have sinned against you.” 5 My enemies wonder in malice when I will die, and my name perish. 6 And when they come to see me, they utter empty words, while their hearts gather mischief; when they go out, they tell it abroad. 7 All who hate me whisper together about me; they imagine the worst for me.

8 They think that a deadly thing has fastened on me, that I will not rise again from where I lie. 9 Even my bosom friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted the heel against me. 10 But you, O Lord, be gracious to me, and raise me up, that I may repay them.

11 By this I know that you are pleased with me; because my enemy has not triumphed over me. 12 But you have upheld me because of my integrity, and set me in your presence forever.

13 Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Amen and Amen.

Footnotes:

Psalm 41:1 Or weak

Psalm 41:3 Heb you change all his bed

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 52

Judgment on the Deceitful

To the leader. A Maskil of David, when Doeg the Edomite came to Saul and said to him, “David has come to the house of Ahimelech.”

1 Why do you boast, O mighty one, of mischief done against the godly?[a] All day long 2 you are plotting destruction. Your tongue is like a sharp razor, you worker of treachery. 3 You love evil more than good, and lying more than speaking the truth.Selah 4 You love all words that devour, O deceitful tongue.

5 But God will break you down forever; he will snatch and tear you from your tent; he will uproot you from the land of the living.Selah 6 The righteous will see, and fear, and will laugh at the evildoer,[b] saying, 7 “See the one who would not take refuge in God, but trusted in abundant riches, and sought refuge in wealth!”[c]

8 But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever. 9 I will thank you forever, because of what you have done. In the presence of the faithful I will proclaim[d] your name, for it is good.

Footnotes:

Psalm 52:1 Cn Compare Syr: Heb the kindness of God

Psalm 52:6 Heb him

Psalm 52:7 Syr Tg: Heb in his destruction

Psalm 52:9 Cn: Heb wait for

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Psalm 44

National Lament and Prayer for Help

To the leader. Of the Korahites. A Maskil.

1 We have heard with our ears, O God, our ancestors have told us, what deeds you performed in their days, in the days of old: 2 you with your own hand drove out the nations, but them you planted; you afflicted the peoples, but them you set free; 3 for not by their own sword did they win the land, nor did their own arm give them victory; but your right hand, and your arm, and the light of your countenance, for you delighted in them.

4 You are my King and my God; you command[a] victories for Jacob. 5 Through you we push down our foes; through your name we tread down our assailants. 6 For not in my bow do I trust, nor can my sword save me. 7 But you have saved us from our foes, and have put to confusion those who hate us. 8 In God we have boasted continually, and we will give thanks to your name forever.Selah

9 Yet you have rejected us and abased us, and have not gone out with our armies. 10 You made us turn back from the foe, and our enemies have gotten spoil. 11 You have made us like sheep for slaughter, and have scattered us among the nations. 12 You have sold your people for a trifle, demanding no high price for them.

13 You have made us the taunt of our neighbors, the derision and scorn of those around us. 14 You have made us a byword among the nations, a laughingstock[b] among the peoples. 15 All day long my disgrace is before me, and shame has covered my face 16 at the words of the taunters and revilers, at the sight of the enemy and the avenger.

17 All this has come upon us, yet we have not forgotten you, or been false to your covenant. 18 Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way, 19 yet you have broken us in the haunt of jackals, and covered us with deep darkness.

20 If we had forgotten the name of our God, or spread out our hands to a strange god, 21 would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart. 22 Because of you we are being killed all day long, and accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

23 Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord? Awake, do not cast us off forever! 24 Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression? 25 For we sink down to the dust; our bodies cling to the ground. 26 Rise up, come to our help. Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love.

Footnotes:

Psalm 44:4 Gk Syr: Heb You are my King, O God; command

Psalm 44:14 Heb a shaking of the head

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

1 Kings 13:1-10

A Man of God from Judah

13 While Jeroboam was standing by the altar to offer incense, a man of God came out of Judah by the word of the Lord to Bethel 2 and proclaimed against the altar by the word of the Lord, and said, “O altar, altar, thus says the Lord: ‘A son shall be born to the house of David, Josiah by name; and he shall sacrifice on you the priests of the high places who offer incense on you, and human bones shall be burned on you.’” 3 He gave a sign the same day, saying, “This is the sign that the Lord has spoken: ‘The altar shall be torn down, and the ashes that are on it shall be poured out.’” 4 When the king heard what the man of God cried out against the altar at Bethel, Jeroboam stretched out his hand from the altar, saying, “Seize him!” But the hand that he stretched out against him withered so that he could not draw it back to himself. 5 The altar also was torn down, and the ashes poured out from the altar, according to the sign that the man of God had given by the word of the Lord. 6 The king said to the man of God, “Entreat now the favor of the Lord your God, and pray for me, so that my hand may be restored to me.” So the man of God entreated the Lord; and the king’s hand was restored to him, and became as it was before. 7 Then the king said to the man of God, “Come home with me and dine, and I will give you a gift.” 8 But the man of God said to the king, “If you give me half your kingdom, I will not go in with you; nor will I eat food or drink water in this place. 9 For thus I was commanded by the word of the Lord: You shall not eat food, or drink water, or return by the way that you came.” 10 So he went another way, and did not return by the way that he had come to Bethel.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Philippians 1:1-11

Salutation

1 Paul and Timothy, servants[a] of Christ Jesus,

To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi, with the bishops[b] and deacons:[c]

2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul’s Prayer for the Philippians

3 I thank my God every time I remember you, 4 constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, 5 because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. 6 I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. 7 It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart,[d] for all of you share in God’s grace[e] with me, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. 8 For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. 9 And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight 10 to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, 11 having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.

Footnotes:

Philippians 1:1 Gk slaves

Philippians 1:1 Or overseers

Philippians 1:1 Or overseers and helpers

Philippians 1:7 Or because I hold you in my heart

Philippians 1:7 Gk in grace

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Mark 15:40-47

40 There were also women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. 41 These used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.

The Burial of Jesus

42 When evening had come, and since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 44 Then Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he had been dead for some time. 45 When he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph. 46 Then Joseph[a] bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body,[b] wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. 47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body[c] was laid.

Footnotes:

Mark 15:46 Gk he

Mark 15:46 Gk it

Mark 15:47 Gk it

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

#September 09 #2019

0 notes

dailyofficereadings · 7 years ago

Text

Daily Office Readings September 11, 2017

Psalm 41

Assurance of God’s Help and a Plea for Healing

To the leader. A Psalm of David.

11 By this I know that you are pleased with me; because my enemy has not triumphed over me. 12 But you have upheld me because of my integrity, and set me in your presence forever.

13 Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Amen and Amen.

Footnotes:

Psalm 41:1 Or weak

Psalm 41:3 Heb you change all his bed

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Psalm 52

Judgment on the Deceitful

To the leader. A Maskil of David, when Doeg the Edomite came to Saul and said to him, “David has come to the house of Ahimelech.”

Footnotes:

Psalm 52:1 Cn Compare Syr: Heb the kindness of God

Psalm 52:6 Heb him

Psalm 52:7 Syr Tg: Heb in his destruction

Psalm 52:9 Cn: Heb wait for

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Psalm 44

National Lament and Prayer for Help

To the leader. Of the Korahites. A Maskil.

Footnotes:

Psalm 44:4 Gk Syr: Heb You are my King, O God; command

Psalm 44:14 Heb a shaking of the head

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

1 Kings 13:1-10

A Man of God from Judah

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Philippians 1:1-11

Salutation

1 Paul and Timothy, servants[a] of Christ Jesus,

To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi, with the bishops[b] and deacons:[c]

2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul’s Prayer for the Philippians

Footnotes:

Philippians 1:1 Gk slaves

Philippians 1:1 Or overseers

Philippians 1:1 Or overseers and helpers

Philippians 1:7 Or because I hold you in my heart

Philippians 1:7 Gk in grace

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

Mark 15:40-47

The Burial of Jesus

Footnotes:

Mark 15:46 Gk he

Mark 15:46 Gk it

Mark 15:47 Gk it

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

#September 11 #2017

0 notes