#kingdoms have risen and fallen over less

[wildsaltair]

this is what is known as an unreasonably attractive man

[busyheaded]

we still have time [13/13]

summary: John dies on a quiet Tuesday, unmarried and childless. Michaela can't fathom allowing everything she knows and loves to pass to a distant heir, so in one last effort to keep hold of her life, as well as the estate, Michaela decides to take a detour through John's wardrobe before heading into Mayfair as the Earl himself, hoping that one eligible, but not so marriage-minded lady takes an interest in her unusual offer.

or, Francesca falls in love with Michaela, she just doesn't realize it yet.

excerpt:

“I am the first to understand how wonderful my sister is,” Eloise says, as if she is worried that Michaela might punch her for what she is about to say next, “but it has been months. And you are genuinely this disquieted over her? Still?”

Michaela’s shoulders rise and drop inside her thick winter coat. “I am.”

“If only the whole world could see you now: Michaela Stirling, notorious rake, humbled to devastation by a mere woman,” Eloise says, letting out a whistle. 

Michaela just sighs. “Wars have been waged over less, Miss Eloise. Kingdoms risen and fallen, empires and hoards of armies cutting each other down over women made of starlight.”

Eloise stares at her. Then, giving a whole body shake, “Christ, Michaela. You are a romantic. That is disgusting. No wonder my sister fell in love with you.”

But Michaela cannot even smile. Instead, her mouth flips into an awkward, uncommitted frown. “And yet it is you that is here.” She side-eyes Eloise. “No offense.”

READ NOW ON AO3

[mugiwara-no-toshokan]

Thrice Prophesized

CisFem Reader x Roronoa Zoro

CW: In-Universe levels of violence, amnesia, romance, reader gets some good bad-ass moments, but shouldn't feel Overpowered if I did my job well, surprisingly no smut in this one loves, but it's book 1 of 2.

Still 18+

Chapter 10: Fall

You, Zoro, and Luffy had returned to the Sunny to face the wrath of Nami. When Luffy and Zoro had gotten down on their knees in front of her you had joined them, letting the fiery navigator get her rage out. You couldn’t argue any of her points – you had wandered off, you had caused a ruckus, you hadn’t even needed to do any of it to protect yourself.

Well, no you didn’t agree with that part.

“I had to Nami,” you interrupted, standing up. “Look, I’ll admit if I hadn’t let myself get distracted nothing else would’ve happened, but once I knew I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“We’re not knights, (Y/N).” Nami retorts her arms folded in front of her.

“If I had been a knight back there I wouldn’t have done anything.” You admit. “Knights obey the orders of their lord, and I can stand here and say that the Archduke of Winternight would’ve liberated that town, it’s not my place to speak for him. I tried to follow Luffy, but he’s not exactly one for giving orders.

“So, I decided to be a pirate.” You pointed down the gangplank to the boxes and bags that Zoro and Luffy had helped you carry back. “I left what I wanted at the door of every house I could find, and brought the rest back here.”

“… What did you leave at their doors?” Sanji questions.

“Swords. Food. Their king sits in the ruins of the scaffolding in the middle of the town square, battered but alive. His guards won’t be a threat for days at the least. It takes time for anyone else to get here. If these people rise up quickly, they’ll be fine.”

“They’ve been beat down for a long time.” Sanji murmurs.

“They have. But today they saw defiance. Kingdoms have risen and fallen on less.” You shrug. “You said yourself that you’re not revolutionaries.” You bow before Nami. “I’m sorry I got distracted, Nami.”

Nami rubs her forehead and sighs. “Well, you brought back supplies, and we’re not getting run out of the port, so it’s fine.”

“Supplies? I brought back gold, mostly.” You admit. “Sorry was I supposed to- eh?” You look around to see Nami is nowhere in sight.

Zoro tilted his head toward the gangplank.

Walking over to the ramp, you lean against the railing and grin. “Well, I imagine I’m not in trouble anymore.” You muse as Nami is positively delighted looking through the loot you came back with.

“So, what caused you to do it?” Jinbei asks, coming up to stand beside you.

You look up at him and then hoist yourself up onto the rail to sit. It puts you a little closer to eye level with the taller man. “Most of it was my own rage, if I’m honest.” You admit. “But you told me about this world and its history, and it was like I was seeing all the worst parts all in one place and… and I mean this world is amazing, and it’s beautiful and brilliant, and it’s not my world, but look at this island!” You stretch your arm toward the port to the trees.

“The forest is alight with color; the autumn season is in full swing! The color of the corals shimmer in the water, the mountains in the distance are massive! It’s breathtaking! To run through those trees, to see what sits in the caves and rocks, to know what manner of creature roams the thickets.” You take in a breath and let it out in a sigh. “And then those people. What do you have to do to a port town to strip its color away like that? Was what I read today normal? Was that why no one raged? Had they known days so much worse that they couldn’t even muster tears?”

“In my experience all peoples rise up,” Jinbei says. “It is often just a matter of when or opportunity. But, your choices aside, how do you feel? I could sense your haki from here.”

“Huh? Oh.” You twist and flex and bend and hop down from the rail and jump up and down a few times. “Good, apparently. All that practice really helped out, and practicing in those terrible currents was an effective idea.” You grin up at Jinbei. “Give me a few more weeks and I might ask to spar with you.”

Jinbei’s laugh warms your core. “It would be my honor, miss (Y/N).”

Supplies and treasure were stowed, and it was decided that the boat would be moved over to the other town as planned. It was best to leave the people to their opportunity, and keep from shaking things up worse on accident, and so you all relocated. Aside from fish, you had everything else you really needed, so it was a sound decision.

Once the ship was docked again it was decided who would go with Luffy. You turned down the opportunity, admitting that you had already caused enough problems on the island, but also you weren’t quite solid enough to keep pace with those that were going.

Luffy, Sanji, Brook, and Franky were not going to be easy to keep up with, and if you exhausted your haki you were just going to be a burden. Besides, all you really wanted to do was walk through the forest that was painted by the season. Usopp and Chopper offered to come along with you, and you accepted the company.

“You two are well-versed in plants, but for different reasons.” You muse as the two have stopped yet again to talk about some moss or fungus or herb or flower. You were in no rush, and didn’t mind the stops, but they had already pointed out so much that it was over-crowding your brain.

Knights were educated in Winternight, but a well-educated knight in your world was an under-educated swordsman in this world. Only because most of your education didn’t translate to this world in the slightest. The only thing you found that was the same as you were used to was salt, but then Sanji had given you some “special salt” and you were almost back to square one.

You were just glad the food didn’t make you sick, and that there wasn’t a language barrier to deal with on top of it all.

“Yeah, there’s a decent amount of overlap,” Usopp answers you as he points something out to Chopper. “But I cultivate for tactical support, and Chopper cultivates for medical support.”

“You’re both so dedicated and talented, the crew is lucky to have you.” You lean down as you offer your praise, and get the expected reactions. Usopp awkwardly accepts it, and Chopper insists he isn’t happy to hear it at all. They’re cute. Both unaware of their full worth, but cute.

Something tickles the back of your neck and you stand up and reach out with your haki. You do so as casually as you can, not wanting to worry either of them, but after a moment you realize whose presence you’re feeling.

You tap Usopp and point. “I’m going to head over there. I won’t be too far away – take your time catching up, there’s just something I want to see.”

“Sure, we’ll catch up.” Usopp nods after seeing which way you were pointing. Between his skill at observation haki and Chopper’s sense of smell they would’ve found you no matter what, but it seemed better to let them know instead of just wandering off.

You walk through the forest, enjoying the quiet and the crisp air, making your way to the source of what you were feeling slowly. You didn’t want to disturb him, but you were curious. Aside from lifting weights, Zoro didn’t do much training on the ship. He meditated, probably working on his haki in a way similar to what Jinbei had taught you, but you hadn’t really seen him fight.

The tussle with Smoker and Tashigi hadn’t been a full fight. You wondered if you’d ever get to see him go all out, and at the same time you hopped you never would. His countenance was already so severe and fierce even when he was at rest, that you feared you wouldn’t be able to stand up if he wasn’t holding back at all.

You came to the edge of the clearing and saw him, holding three swords. Your eyes widen a little, you wouldn’t have been surprised to see him dual-wielding, since he carried three swords, but you had always assumed the 3rd was either a ceremonial piece, or a spare blade. Instead, it seemed, he had a style of fighting that utilized all three.

The sword in his mouth should be ridiculous. It should be completely worthless and tactically useless. It made your teeth and jaw ache just to see him like that, but the way he stood – the way he moved – the flow of energy that came from him, there was nothing worthless about it. It defied all you knew of swordsmanship and combat, but much of this world had redefined how you saw combat.

His movements when he wasn’t off-balance – whatever or whoever Tashigi was to him, you didn’t know and it didn’t matter, she wasn’t here and his movements were like water. Still and calm water, crystal clear and smooth as glass. Small shivers and trembles here and there – places were improvements could still be made, but nearly flawless. The weight of each movement, the ease with which he did it, the soundlessness of his movements even as he moved among the dry leaves.

How could you have associated such beauty to a demon?

You don’t know how long you watched him, it could’ve been hours, you would’ve stood there for days. The soft shift of fabric, the shimmer of sweat, the glimmer of those three earrings in the cool light. It was a dance for the gods, a pinnacle you had neither believed existed nor even considered traveling. It was all the seasons – no, all the worlds. He was aware of worlds within the space of his swords.

This was the knight that knelt at the feet of the King. The King of Pirates, the King of something. Demons wasn’t right, but there was something there, and both titles felt so absolute and irrefutable.

Your haki lurched, twisting in you almost painfully and you nearly shattered your teeth to keep yourself silent against the strangely painful sensation. Turning your back to the clearing you leaned against a tree and steadied your breathing. Haki was the wrong word, something in your core lurched, and haki was throughout the body. Your mana core didn’t exist in this world, but the sensation of an overload was what that had felt like. It was unsettling to feel in this world, especially after so long.

You saw Chopper and Usopp coming toward you and walked over to them. The non-existent core twisted in you again and this time it buckled your legs. You didn’t cry out, but Chopper and Usopp did.

“(Y/N)!” Usopp moved faster than you expected and kept you from falling into the dirt.

“D-Doctor! We need a doctor! Wait – that’s me! (Y/N) are you okay?”

You shake your head, pushing Usopp away as something lurches through your body again, bucking your muscles, and pulling a grunt of frustration from you. It’s almost like your body needs to vomit, but something in you tells you that if you give into the urge it’ll be bad. Not just for you, but for the two near you.

“Get,” you slam a fist into the ground. “Away!”

Usopp and Chopper look at you in concern and both move toward you. You shake your head and swipe your arm through the air to push them back. “Please! Go to -,” You feel an oppressive aura pushing back against your body. It’s like a weighted net, pushing you down and helping you, falling over you so forcefully you’re nearly pushed into the dirt.

“Zoro!” You hear Usopp and Chopper exclaim in unison.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you can feel the question is directed at you.

You shake your head. “Don’t… know.” You growl, but there’s less struggle in you. “That helps.”

After a few long minutes the strange and painful sensation passes and you let yourself lay in the dirt, holding a thumbs up over your head as Zoro eases off whatever it was he was doing. You’re covered in sweat, dirt and leaf litter as you roll onto your back, catching your breath while Chopper fusses over you.

“I’m fine little forest spirit,” you say with a smile. “I don’t know what that was, but I’m fine now. Just a little tired.”

“It wasn’t another portal, was it?” Zoro questions.

You shake your head. “The pull of winter magic doesn’t feel like that, or, at least, it didn’t feel like that last time. If that was another portal it wouldn’t have mattered, I couldn’t move, but it felt like it was coming from inside me.” You take a few deep breaths and sit up. “Anyone trying to bring me back home wouldn’t risk ripping my body apart to do it.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, patting Chopper on the head with a smile to reassure him.

“I promise, I feel much better now.” You look over at Zoro and look away. “Ah, sorry for interrupting your training. I’ll, uh, I mean I’m going to go back to the ship.”

You’re really trying to not actually run away from him, but suddenly Zoro was just too close. Chopper followed after you, but Usopp stayed to make sure Zoro got back to the ship. You didn’t ask why Zoro would need Usopp to protect him, but maybe he was going to train so much he’d be too tired to get back on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask because that would mean turning back toward the both of them.

“You certainly seem to have plenty of energy!” Chopper beams, having changed into his faster form to keep pace with you. You hadn’t even realized how quickly you were walking.

“Oh, my apologies. I was… lost in thought, it seems.” You admit sheepishly.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you’re not struggling to walk.”

“No, not struggling to walk.” You let out a concerned sigh. “Struggling to think maybe.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Enh… No, there’s just a lot swirling around in here.” You say, pointing to your chest.

“You… heart hurts?”

You flinch. “Oh, no, I mean… ah, I mean emotional turmoil, Chopper. I-I mean it’s been, you know, a bit of an ordeal. But I’m fine! I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You say hastily and watch as the young doctor’s face brightens. You weren’t exactly lying, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to acknowledge the truth anyway.

You were going to get back home someday.

He had said so, after all.

[eatinghemlocks]

These gods were quite strange. It was something Lualha has known every time a word was spoken upon them. It was mostly hushed whispers, for such hurtful words would cause consequences to whoever have no shame to speak that way to the gods, criticism or not. No one can even speak against their ruling.

The Great Ones before them, though, were less cruel.

Times like these has stirred the people's fear and panic all over the empire. Floods continued to flow among the villages in the eastern kingdoms, the rain has fallen all over the land in a thick waterfall of ice and water, with thunder and lightning bringing them forth.

Lualha stood among the desolated land filled with murky brown waters, the flood that has risen all over the once lively village. The storms have taken over the region. No life was seen among the dry huts buried in water, among the lifeless bodies of the villagers. Their hearts have gone cold, and their once smiling faces were empty, filled with water and death. Gold and pearls rusted, bones were among the waters, while the trees wilted in hollow sorrow.

Her feet were bare among the carvings of the altar, carvings that foretold of the old gods walking among the land before they were buried in stone by the new ones. She, a being of a moon-eater, has never reached the greatness of the ancient gods, despite her living among them since their time. She has greatly served them as a great dragon, looking over their creation until that very day. Very slowly, the ancient gods were forgotten in a million - billion years, died by tradition.

Gods replaced, saints were renowned. Cruel was the world, and the mortals became greedy enough for the pearls of the sea, gold in the land, and the magic among the divine. They were wiped out.

Some survived.

One was a child, holding onto the altar, to the very feet of the once powerful creature, now reduced to mortal bones.

Lualha smiled to the child, and took them by arm. They were shivering in cold, their brown eyes seeking that warmth she has. The child was shaken, but it did not stop them to spill the words from their mouth.

"Mother told me of gods." They whispered faintly.

Lualha held them by arm. "What have they told you?" She asked them rather softly.

"They were still like the old ones." The child answered. "Yet their punishment was cruel to us. I can hear my mother cry out to the old ones for their embrace."

Brown eyes stared at the child, before turning to the waters that continued to travel among the village. "The old gods are dead."

The child blinked. "Then what are you? Why did you came here when I called you?"

"The old has ordered me," Lualha spoke softly, "That when a soul cries out in need, I must come." She turned to them. "And I did, didn't I?"

[dfroza]

A sacred point of remembrance

and the coming [metamorphosis] of body

(A secret elopement)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 15th chapter of the letter of First Corinthians:

Let me remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I preached to you when we first met. It’s the essential message that you have taken to heart, the central story you now base your life on; and through this gospel, you are liberated—unless, of course, your faith has come to nothing. For I passed down to you the crux of it all which I had also received from others, that the Anointed One, the Liberating King, died for our sins and was buried and raised from the dead on the third day. All this happened to fulfill the Scriptures; it was the perfect climax to God’s covenant story. Afterward He appeared alive to Cephas (you may know him as Simon Peter), then to the rest of the twelve. If that were not amazing enough, on one occasion, He appeared to more than 500 believers at one time. Many of those brothers and sisters are still around to tell the story, though some have fallen asleep in Jesus. Soon He appeared to James, His brother and the leader of the Jerusalem church, and then to all the rest of the emissaries He Himself commissioned. Last of all, He appeared to me; I was like a child snatched from his mother’s womb. You see, I am the least of all His emissaries, not fit to be called His emissary because I hunted down and persecuted God’s church. Today I am who I am because of God’s grace, and I have made sure that the grace He offered me has not been wasted. I have worked harder, longer, and smarter than all the rest; but I realize it is not me—it is God’s grace with me that has made the difference. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether it was I or the other witnesses who brought you the message. What matters is that we keep preaching and that you have faith in this message.

Now if we have told you about the Anointed One (how He has risen from the dead and appeared to us fully alive), then how can you stand there and say there is no such thing as resurrection from death? Friends, if there is no resurrection of the dead, then even the Anointed hasn’t been raised; if that is so, then all our preaching has been for nothing and your faith in the message is worthless. And what’s worse, all of us who have been preaching the gospel are now guilty of misrepresenting God because we have been spreading the news that He raised the Anointed One from the dead (which must be a lie if what you are saying about the dead not being raised is the truth). Please listen. If you say, “the dead are not raised,” then what you are telling me is that the Anointed One has not been raised. Friends, if the Anointed has not been raised from the dead, then your faith is worth less than yesterday’s garbage, you are all doomed in your sins, and all the dearly departed who trusted in His liberation are left decaying in the ground. If what we have hoped for in the Anointed doesn’t take us beyond this life, then we are world-class fools, deserving everyone’s pity.

But the Anointed One was raised from death’s slumber and is the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep in death. For since death entered this world by a man, it took another man to make the resurrection of the dead our new reality. Look at it this way: through Adam all of us die, but through the Anointed One all of us can live again. But this is how it will happen: the Anointed’s awakening is the firstfruits. It will be followed by the resurrection of all those who belong to Him at His coming, and then the end will come. After He has conquered His enemies and shut down every rule and authority vying for power, He will hand over the Kingdom to God, the Father of all that is. And He must reign as King until He has put all His enemies under His feet. The last hostile power to be destroyed is death itself. All this will happen to fulfill the Scripture that says, “You placed everything on earth beneath His feet.” (Although it says “everything,” it is clear that this does not also pertain to God, who created everything and made it all subject to Him.) Then, when all creation has taken its rightful place beneath God’s sovereign reign, the Son will follow, subject to the Father who exalted Him over all created things; then God will be God over all.

You have probably heard that some people are undergoing ritual cleansings of baptism for the dead. Why are they doing that? If the dead are not going to be raised, then why are people being baptized for them? Why are we putting our lives on the line all the time if there’s no resurrection? I die every day! I swear that it’s true! That’s something you take pride in, brothers and sisters, as I do in Jesus the Anointed, our Lord. But if I have fought against the wild beasts in Ephesus for some human cause, then what good has that done me? If the dead are not raised, then there’s nothing more to do than—as the saying goes—eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.

But don’t be so naïve—there’s another saying you know well—Bad company corrupts good habits. Come to your senses, live justly, and stop sinning. It’s true that some have no knowledge of God. I am saying this to shame you into better habits.

Now I know what some of you are thinking: “Just how are the dead going to be raised? What kind of bodies will they have when they come back to life?” Don’t be a fool! The seed you plant doesn’t produce life unless it dies. Right? The seed doesn’t have the same look, the same body, if you will, of what it will have once it starts to grow. It starts out a single, naked seed—whether wheat or some other grain, it doesn’t matter— and God gives to that seed a body just as He has desired. For each of the different kinds of seeds God prepares a unique body. Or look at it this way: not all flesh is the same. Right? There is skin flesh on humans, furry flesh on animals, feathery flesh on birds, and scaly flesh on fish. Likewise there are bodies made for the heavens and bodies made for the earth. The heavenly bodies have a different kind of glory or luminescence compared to bodies below. Even among the heavenly bodies, there is a different level of brilliance: the sun shines differently than the moon, the moon differently than the stars, and the stars themselves differ in their brightness.

It’s like this with the resurrection of those who have died. The body planted in the earth decays. But the body raised from the earth cannot decay. The body is planted in disgrace and weakness. But the body is raised in splendor and power. The body planted in the earth was animated by the physical, material realm. But the body raised from the earth will be animated by the spiritual. Since there is a physical, material body, there will also be a spiritual body. That’s why it was written, “The first man Adam became a living soul”; the last Adam has become a life-giving spirit. Everything has an order. The body is not animated first by the spiritual but the physical; then the spiritual becomes its life-giving source. The first man, Adam, came from the earth and was made from dust; the second man, Jesus, has come from heaven. The earth man shares his earth nature with all those made of earth; likewise the heavenly man shares His heavenly nature with all those made of heaven. Just as we have carried the image of the earth man in our bodies, we will also carry the image of the heavenly man in our new bodies at the resurrection.

Now listen to this: brothers and sisters, this present body is not able to inherit the kingdom of God any more than decay can inherit that which lasts forever. Stay close because I am going to tell you a mystery—something you may have trouble understanding: we will not all fall asleep in death, but we will all be transformed. It will all happen so fast, in a blink, a mere flutter of the eye. The last trumpet will call, and the dead will be raised from their graves with a body that does not, cannot decay. All of us will be changed! We’ll step out of our mortal clothes and slide into immortal bodies, replacing everything that is subject to death with eternal life. And, when we are all redressed with bodies that do not, cannot decay, when we put immortality over our mortal frames, then it will be as Scripture says:

Life everlasting has victoriously swallowed death.

Hey, Death! What happened to your big win?

Hey, Death! What happened to your sting?

Sin came into this world, and death’s sting followed. Then sin took aim at the law and gained power over those who follow the law. Thank God, then, for our Lord Jesus, the Anointed, the Liberating King, who brought us victory over the grave.

My dear brothers and sisters, stay firmly planted—be unshakable—do many good works in the name of God, and know that all your labor is not for nothing when it is for God.

The Letter of First Corinthians, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

Resurrection is central to the gospel. In fact, without the bodily resurrection of Jesus there is no good news at all. For in Jesus, God personifies His redeeming work and demonstrates the scope of that redemption. He is a God who brings life from death, peace from war, prosperity from adversity, and bounty from famine. The resurrection of Jesus marks a new era of God’s dealing with the world. He intends nothing less than the total reclamation of His good creation damaged by human folly, sin, and death.

Redemption is not merely forgiveness of sin’s guilt so our souls can go to heaven someday. Our true hope is to be free from physical death just as Jesus was raised from the dead. Accordingly, this hope of bodily resurrection stands against the expectation that souls escape from their mortal bodies (as if your soul is the real “you” and your body is a disposable external space suit) and merely float up to heaven. Rather, Paul presents resurrection as a new creation; and this restored bodily existence affirms and fulfills the original intent of creation. Believers don’t have to wait until the future to experience this Spirit-enabled life because living in obedience to God through the Spirit is a foretaste of the total experience that will come when all is restored later.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 2nd chapter of the book of Leviticus:

Eternal One: Any time one of you brings a grain offering to Me, it should be the finest flour mixed with olive oil and frankincense. Give it to Aaron’s sons, the priests. One of the priests will take a handful of the fine flour mixed with olive oil and frankincense and offer up a memorial portion on the altar, and the smoke of the offering will rise and be a pleasant aroma to Me. The rest of the grain offering is for Aaron and his sons. It is a most holy part of the fire-offerings dedicated to Me. No one other than the priests may eat it.

Eternal One: Any time one of you brings a grain offering that was prepared in an oven, it should be bread made without yeast from the finest flour mixed with oil or a wafer made without yeast spread with oil. Any time one of you brings a grain offering that was prepared on a griddle, it should be made without yeast from the finest flour mixed with oil. Separate it into pieces, pour oil on it, and present it as a grain offering. Any time one of you brings a grain offering that was prepared in a pan, it should be made from the finest flour and mixed with oil. Whenever you bring any of these grain offerings to Me, it should be given to the priest who will then take it to the altar. The priest will offer up the memorial portion on the altar, and the smoke of the offering will rise and be a pleasant aroma to Me. The rest of the grain offering is for Aaron and his sons. It is a most holy part of the fire-offerings dedicated to Me. No one other than the priests may eat it.

Every grain offering that is presented before Me must be made without yeast because it is forbidden to offer up any yeast or honey to Me by means of the fire-offering. When you bring an offering of the first and finest part of the harvest to Me, you may bring yeast and honey but they must not be offered up in smoke as a pleasant aroma. You must salt every grain offering you bring so that the salt of your covenant with God will not be missing. You will season all of the offerings you present with salt.

Eternal One: If you present a grain offering from the first ripe grain of your harvest to Me, bring fresh new grain, crushed and roasted in the fire. Also mix it with oil and frankincense because it is presented as a grain offering. The priests will then offer up a memorial portion of the grain mixed with oil and all of the frankincense as a fire-offering to Me.

The Book of Leviticus, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

The sacrifices and offerings not only please God but they provide for the physical and spiritual needs of the people. All the priests are from the tribe of Levi and participate in the spiritual heritage of Aaron, Moses’ brother. With some of the offerings, God prescribes that the priests must share in the food brought by the people. By eating from their sacrifices, the priests participate in the lives of those who wish to approach God. Some sacrifices are described as “memorial” offerings to God. These are offerings that ask God to remember His people and keep them in His good favor.

In the ancient world, salt was a valuable substance. It was used for a variety of purposes: to preserve meats, promote healing, and seal friendships. When covenants were made, people celebrated with fine meals seasoned with salt and other spices. The permanence of salt symbolized the permanence of God’s covenant with His people (Numbers 18:19). Jesus echoes this covenant practice when He instructs His followers to be salt in the world (Matthew 5:13).

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, june 2 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that points to ("God with us") and ("God in us"):

The ascension of Yeshua (i.e., aliyat Yeshua: עליית ישוע) demonstrates that he is now seated at the right hand of God (יושב לימינו של אלוהים), ever making intercession for his people based on his resurrection victory over the power of sin and death. For more information, read the following post and the links below.

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Forty days after his resurrection, on Mem B'Omer (see Acts 1:3), Yeshua met with his disciples at the Mount of Olives (i.e., הַר הַזֵּיתִים) near Jerusalem, where he told them they would receive the promised Holy Spirit at the appointed jubilee of Shavuot (i.e., "Pentecost"). Upon his departure he blessed them, and Yeshua began to "ascend" bodily into heaven, thus signifying the close of his ministry on earth ("God with us") in anticipation of the advent of the Holy Spirit ("God in us"). [Note that in the New Testament, the account of the ascension of Yeshua is found in Luke 24:50-51 and Acts 1:3-11)].

The ascension of the Messiah fulfills prophecy as the glory of Yeshua enthroned at the right hand of the Father (Psalm 110:1; Matt. 22:41-46; 26:64), and therefore it marks the transition from his earthy ministry back to his heavenly one, and this is important because it annulled any further claim that Yeshua would physically visit people on earth until the parousia, or the second coming (note that Apostle Paul had encountered Yeshua after the ascension via visions, and not true physical contact in the earthly realm (see Acts 9:1-19; Gal. 1:11-2:1; 1 Cor. 15:8). The ascension signified the ultimate triumph of Yeshua as the “Son of Man” when he physically entered into the heavenly realm. It was not merely the spirit of Messiah that ascended to glory, but redeemed humanity that he represented in his resurrected body. The ascension eternally vindicates and enthrones the salvation of God in Yeshua.

But why 40 days? And what was Yeshua doing during this time? Frankly we don’t know the details, though "40 days and nights" represents a period of completeness in the Scriptures. For instance, the cataclysmic judgment during the time of the great flood (Gen. 7:1), the embalming of Jacob (i.e., Israel) in Egypt (Gen. 50:3), the two occasions Moses ascended Sinai to receive the Torah (Exod. 24:18; Exod. 34:28), the intercession Moses made on behalf of Israel (Deut. 9:25); the mission of the spies who searched out the land (Num. 14:34), and Yeshua's tempation in the desert before he began his public ministry (Matt. 4:2; Mark 1:13) as well as his post-resurrection appearances (Acts 1:3) - all were 40 days in duration.

What is spiritually vital about all this, however, is that our Lord, the "Final Adam" (῾Ο ἔσχατος ᾽Αδὰμ, 1 Cor. 15:45) is now seated at the right hand of God (Psalm 110:1), forever enthroned as the Savior and LORD over all, the King of Glory (מֶלֶךְ הַכָּבוֹד) who has successfully completed his great mission to save humanity from the curse of death because of the original transgression in the garden (Rom. 5:12-21; 1 Cor. 15:21-22).

It was prophesied of our Lord Yeshua in Psalm 68:19 - "You have ascended to the highest (עָלִיתָ לַמָּרוֹם); You have taken captives out of captivity (שָׁבִיתָ שֶּׁבִי); You have acquired gifts for men (לָקַחְתָּ מַתָּנוֹת בָּאָדָם), yea, even for the rebellious (וְאַף סוֹרְרִים), that the LORD God may dwell among them (לִשְׁכֹּן יָהּ אֱלֹהִים). The apostle Paul later quoted this verse and applied it to the victory of Yeshua at the cross, explaining that He had first descended at his death and burial but later ascended far above all (Eph. 4:8-10; Col. 2:15). By delivering captive sinners from their captivity to Satan, the LORD bestowed gifts of the Spirit and eternal life to all who believe. Praise his name forever!

Just as Moses had waited 40 days before the Torah was given to Israel, so the disciples waited 40 days before the promise of the Holy Spirit was given (Exod. 24:18; John 16:7, Acts 2:1-4). In both cases, at the appointed time revelation was given -- first in the form of "the Voice of the Living God speaking from the midst of the fire" at Sinai (Deut. 5:26), and later in the form of “tongues of fire” given in glory and power. Yeshua’s Voice is now heard from the midst of the fire given at Zion...

For more information about "Mem B'Omer" and the Ascension of our Lord, see:

The Ascension of Yeshua (link):

https://hebrew4christians.com/Holidays/Spring_Holidays/Sefirat_HaOmer/Ascension/ascension.html

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 110:1 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm110-1-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm110-1-lesson.pdf

The Ascension of Yeshua (link):

https://hebrew4christians.com/Holidays/Spring_Holidays/Sefirat_HaOmer/Ascension/ascension.html

5.30.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365

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

[passiveincomemoney]

Understanding the Impact of Higher Mortgage Rates on Your Income

The landscape of homeownership is often directly influenced by the fluctuating dynamics of mortgage rates. As these rates ascend, the ripple effects on personal finances can be significant.

Mortgage Rates: A Global Perspective

The landscape of mortgage rates has been a subject of interest for potential homeowners and investors alike. Over the past five years, the global economy has witnessed significant fluctuations in mortgage rates, influenced by factors such as economic policies, inflation, and market dynamics.

The United States has seen a gradual increase in mortgage rates, with the average interest rate reaching approximately 6.1 percent as of March 2023. This rise is attributed to the looming inflation and the Federal Reserve's response to it. Despite the increase, the U.S. housing market remains robust, supported by a strong demand for homeownership.

In Europe, countries like Finland, Portugal, and the Netherlands have maintained mortgage rates below three percent, offering a favourable environment for borrowers. These low rates are reflective of the European Central Bank's monetary policy aimed at stimulating economic growth.

On the other hand, emerging economies have presented a different scenario. For instance, Argentina and Turkey have experienced some of the highest mortgage interest rates, with figures soaring above 30 percent. Such high rates pose challenges for local populations, affecting affordability and access to housing.

The United Kingdom, Germany, and France stand out as the largest mortgage markets in Europe, with substantial amounts of outstanding mortgage lending. The depth of these markets indicates the significance of real estate in these economies and the level of financial sophistication among consumers.

Here's a detailed exploration of how higher mortgage rates can impact your income.

The Direct Impact on Monthly Payments

Higher mortgage rates translate into increased monthly payments for homeowners with variable-rate mortgages. This is a straightforward correlation: as interest rates climb, so does the amount you pay back to the lender each month. For those with fixed-rate mortgages, the impact is deferred until the renewal or refinancing of the mortgage, at which point the higher rates become a new reality.

Affordability Assessments and Borrowing Power

Lenders have a responsibility to ensure that borrowers can manage their mortgage payments, not just at the current rate, but also if rates were to increase. This is known as 'stress testing'. With higher mortgage rates, stress tests become more stringent, potentially reducing the amount one can borrow. The Bank of England has noted that as interest rates have risen, the average loan-to-income (LTI) ratios have fallen, indicating that people are borrowing less in relation to their income.

The Long-Term View: Mortgage Terms and Total Interest Paid

An indirect, but substantial, effect of higher mortgage rates is the total amount of interest paid over the life of the mortgage. Homeowners may opt to extend their mortgage terms to keep monthly payments manageable, which can lead to paying more interest over time. This means less disposable income for other financial goals or needs.

The Broader Economic Context

The broader economic implications of higher mortgage rates cannot be ignored. As households allocate a larger portion of their income to mortgage payments, there's less available for other forms of spending, which can dampen economic growth. The Institute for Fiscal Studies highlights the strain on household budgets, especially alongside other financial pressures such as rising energy bills.

Who is Most Affected?

The effects of rising mortgage rates are not uniform across the population. Those on variable-rate mortgages feel the impact immediately. Fixed-rate mortgage holders are insulated until their fixed term ends. However, the overall increase in rates means that new borrowers face higher costs from the outset. The Institute for Fiscal Studies points out that low-income households could see mortgage repayments reach a high share of their income, exacerbating inequality.

Mitigating the Impact

There are strategies to mitigate the impact of higher mortgage rates on your income. These include budgeting effectively, considering refinancing options, and seeking financial advice to navigate the changing landscape. It's also crucial to stay informed about market trends and policy changes that could affect mortgage rates.

In conclusion, higher mortgage rates have a multi-faceted impact on personal finances. They impact monthly payments, borrowing capacity, long-term interest costs, and overall economic health. By understanding these dynamics, homeowners and prospective buyers can make informed decisions to safeguard their financial well-being in the face of rising rates.

For more detailed information and guidance, exploring resources such as the Bank of England's analysis can provide valuable insights into how mortgage rates are shaping the current economic climate.

Prospective borrowers should consult financial advisors and conduct thorough research before making any mortgage-related decisions.

[writeroutoftime]

being married to and having twins with arthur pendragon would include...

pairing: arthur pendragon x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

a/n: let me just start by apologizing for how long it took me to write these!! for quite a while, I was really struggling with writing, but I'm so excited to be back, and I hope the lovely anon who requested this sees it and enjoys! have a fantastic day! 💛

If someone had told you five years ago that you would be transformed from kitchen maid to Queen of Camelot, you would have sent them straight to Gaius' to be checked out. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you could have risen to be something more. Not that you were a complete cynic towards life, but limiting your fantasies was a method of self-preservation more than anything else.

However, as you looked at the man next to you - his arm thrown around your waist in his sleep - you couldn't help but be so incredibly thankful for the way things had turned out. There had been ups and downs - perhaps more so than any normal couple - but those only served to make yours and Arthur's relationship stronger.

It was a difficult adjustment at first to become queen. Unlearning old habits from your time beneath the glittery castle halls took some time, yet you used your experiences to make yourself a more gracious and understanding queen. And Arthur was right next to you every step of the way, providing advice, encouragement, and a shoulder to cry on when you need it. With time, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Although your day might have contained less manual labor, the days were still long and tiring with meetings, balls, ceremonies, and pouring over treaties and laws. This new schedule didn't leave much downtime between you and Arthur, but the two of you would manage to sneak out from time to time, with the help of Merlin, of course.

Often times, your dates would consist of riding out to a nearby lake for a picnic, a swim, or just to simply enjoy each others' company. There, you and Arthur could exist with one another, without the weight of a kingdom resting on your shoulders. It was also during these excursions (and during the early morning hours and late nights in your chambers) that you got to see more of the Arthur you fell in love with.

Of course, you loved all of Arthur, but seeing him so carefree made your heart soar.

About a year or so into your marriage, you learned that you had fallen pregnant, immediately excited to grow your family from two to three. Though the two of you knew that the kingdom and your advisors were hoping for a boy, as long as your baby was happy and healthy, you didn't care what gender the baby was.

Imagine your surprise, however, when you discovered you were carrying twins. Preparations were than doubled, and it wasn't long before you were blessed with your little princess and your little prince.

From the moment Arthur held each of your children, they had him wrapped around their little fingers. Both of you played an active role in raising your children, so it was not uncommon to be seen holding one of the twins as you sat through a meeting or wrote out letters and invitations.

Arthur would want his children to know how much they were loved and not feel pressured to one day continue the legacy of Camelot, like his own father had so often inadvertently made him feel. So, it was important to him that the four of you spent time together, away from the castle.

The same spot you and Arthur used to escape to for impromptu dates quickly became the spot you took your family too. Though Merlin would be a great babysitter for the times when you and Arthur needed a royal and child free afternoon together.

There would also be many lazy mornings spent in your chambers, wrapped in each others arms before you were interrupted by the squeals and footsteps of your children. On these mornings, you would each scoop up one of the twins and place them in the middle of your bed, and just enjoy being together

Both your kids have you and Arthur wrapped around their little fingers, but the two of you still show them how to be fair rulers to all - they also love to sit in on royal events with you and Arthur

Overall, you and Arthur adore your children and would do anything or face any threat (magical or not) to protect your little family

[prismatica-the-strange]

Hold up- Nope! I gotta just throw you some things about Soul Stasis now

Now where to start??? I have a more detailed intro I'm working on, but that's gonna take ages.

Reggie! Reggie has a brilliant friend named Brach, he saves the last of the world with his stasis bubble tech.

Reg is not nearly as technically brained, but she's good with people

A nearby town was destroyed when the bombs started dropping

That's when she met Luna, a four-year-old whose parents died, and she took her with her to the citadel

On their way there, Reg was grievously shot and almost died

Their plan to wait out the apocalypse in a frozen time bubble backfired when, instead of 20 something years, they wake up nearly 2000 years later

2000 years and she just tore her stitches and, not that she knows it, but she has a soulmate now!

Of course, now everyone knows the "Fallen kingdoms" have risen and they have Elves, humans, and gnomes at their gates

She's voted onto the council

Between parenting, healing, and helping lead, she has to play host to the 'elf' king Ander and his druid friend, overlook a survival celebration, and play nice with the queen of Leah.

She's 26 and over her head. The world just ended for them and now this

It's been over 2000 years

It's been less than 2 month

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan

Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way!

Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal 

None of this is even remotely historically accurate. This is all purely fiction!

Type: series 

prologue || part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page! 

Word Count: approx. 2.6k 

Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband. 

→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama, Oh My General (also known as The General Above I Am Below)

Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies

It had taken six months for the final battle to commence, and three full years of ruthless war, before they finally conceded. Needless to say, the new recruits were lucky to be under your jurisdiction. Had they not, the body count would have been much higher. 

Your grip tightens on the rein of your horse, feeling the guilt and anguish wash over you once more of those who have fallen. While it is inevitable to lose soldiers in war, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. 

You take a small breath in, calming yourself once more and settling back into the reality. 

The war had begun in the fall, whereas now, it is well into the summer season. You close your eyes, feeling the sun shine warmly on your skin. Taking another breath in, you open your eyes once more to take in the sights. 

White butterflies dance over the grass, teasing flowers as they move along. The flowers are in full bloom; even the dirt path, which was once wet and muddy, has patches of grass that pop out from the cracks. While you have traveled to many areas, you were never able to take in the sights—well, at least, the less violent ones. 

Ah, war. Politicians may declare war as much as they please, but they have yet to have seen how it destroys the average person—even a general as distinguished as yourself. 

“General?” 

“Yes,” you say. “What’s wrong, Dongho?” 

You don’t look back at him, but you can hear his horse’s footsteps catch up to yours—slowing down to remain a couple of paces behind. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You smile to yourself. “Rather sentimental.” You turn to him. “When was the last time we ever allowed ourselves to take in nature like this?” 

His smile reflects yours. “I believe it was the last time we had been called to fulfill our duty.” 

You click your tongue, with a disapproved shake of your head. “We need to go on these outings more often.” 

“Well,” Dongho starts. “It’s hard to go on leisurely walks as one of the nation’s most notable figures.” 

“And this is why you’re my second-in-command.” You let out another sigh, a bit longer than the previous one. “It’s hard to roam around with such a large target on your back.” 

“In hindsight, you are very skilled in many areas. Whether it’s swordsmanship, archery, or taekkyon, only a suicidal fool would challenge you.” 

“A suicidal fool, such as yourself?” 

“Yes, General,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m a suicidal fool, who has yet to have learned his lesson.” 

Dongho has been by your side for as long as you can remember. The two of you lived as neighbors, and evidently best friends, for ten years. When your father and brothers died, there was a brief separation period until you turned fourteen—in which you had met again, when you were starting your military training on request of your grandfather. 

Since then, you two trained together, side-by-side in combat for the next twelve years. You rose the ranks together—you as the General and he as the military counselor. 

You hear a groan from your left side. “Are we there yet?” 

“Kim Jisoo,” you call. “You should know by now how long these journeys are.” 

Your bodyguard playfully scowls at you. “Pardon me for being used to having company on these trips.” 

From beside her, Namjoo, your other bodyguard, directs a punch to her sister’s arm. “You speak as if I’m dead.” She makes eye contact with you, before rolling her eyes at her sisters antics. “Father would be upset had he heard your inauspicious words.” 

Lieutenant Kim worked alongside your father and you’re lucky enough to have him by yours as well. He’s like another family member—practically a close uncle, who is more than aware of your peculiar situation. Along with Lieutenant Kim came his two daughters, Jisoo and Namjoo.

Because he spent all of his time in the military, so did they. They learned as he taught and trained the other soldiers, including yourself and Dongho. Then, when the time came, you gave the both of them the bodyguard positions.

Of course there was protest, especially from their male counterparts who wanted their positions. While the Kims had a good laugh, there were also rumors that spread on your part—you had become known as a playboy, who became desperate for female attention while serving in the military.

Eventually, those rumors had been shut down, considering how your military contributions outweighed the gossip that spread due to envious soldiers. Your status easily overpowered theirs (lack thereof) and you dealt with them... accordingly. 

(No one died, but it didn’t mean you didn’t cause some emotional trauma for them. You were nicknamed the Devil for a reason).

But, alas, this is also the root of your predicament. 

“You aren’t the company I was referring to,” Jisoo says. 

“If you’re referring to those pretty boys back at the capitol,” Namjoo says. “You might as well be the dead one.” 

You chuckle at their banter. Jisoo is right (although you would never tell her): it would be nice to have a pretty boy by your side. But, with the current conditions, you know it would only be difficult for him. 

Granted, this would be made a burdensome situation for you as well—the only difference being that you’re made of the tougher materials in life and will not hesitate to kill a man when crossed against. 

Their banter fades into the background, with Dongho attempting to separate the two before the duo of sisters suddenly becomes solo. 

You look up at the bright and clear sky once more, enjoying the moment of peace before the storm strikes. 

It’s been about three days before you determined a stopping point, in order to set up camp for the evening. Your soldiers have been on rotation since then; you figure that they should get a well-needed break. 

You smirk to yourself. The joke’s on them, considering how the lower ranks are the ones who actually set up: the tents, the cots, the fires. 

The sun has already set for the day; the moon shines brightly and the stars twinkle against the evening sky. It’s truly the countryside; in the city, you don’t get sights like these. Too much pollution and such. It only means you and your soldiers still have a long road back to the capitol. 

A long sigh escapes you as you stand outside your tent—naturally, with Namjoo on one side and Jisoo on the other. 

“What’s wrong, General?” Namjoo asks. 

Jisoo turns to you. “Is something bothering you?” 

You let out another sigh. “It’s less of a bother and more of a concern.” 

“What kinds of concerns?” Jisoo asks. “Could we be of any help to you?” 

“Considering we are your protectors,” Namjoo adds with a pointed look. 

“And your best friends,” Jisoo says. 

“Female best friends.” 

You crack a small smile—one that rarely showed during this period. “When do you think…” Your words trail off, trying to find the correct words. “When do you think this charade should be over and done with?” 

Namjoo blinks wordlessly, not seeming to understand your question. 

“What do you mean, General?” Jisoo asks. “Are you referring to…? Possibly…?” 

“When can I fully become (Y/N) rather than just a general?”

“You’re not just a general,” Namjoo says. “You have risen up to become the General. The one who serves and protects your kingdom best.” 

“It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with my accomplishments. I’m proud of them, but I would prefer them to be my own rather than the son of the (Y/L/N) family.” You laugh inwardly at your own words. 

Son. What a joke. 

You did what you’ve had to, but, what was the real cost? The countless men you have killed? The women and children who were left with no one to care for them in this patriarchal society? 

What about your own life? What would life had been like, had your father and brothers not been killed? Would you have been married off to a family as well? Or would you still be in the military, serving with the other soldiers like now? 

There’s a moment of silence and the two struggle to find their words—whereas you’re left again to your own thoughts. 

It’s Jisoo who speaks first. “I want to tell you it would all be okay and things would remain the same.”

“But?” 

“But it won’t.” She tilts her head up, the stars shimmering in her eyes. “Things will be hard and things will be difficult. And, whenever you make that decision, we’ll be right here by your side.” 

Namjoo elbows you with a mischievous smile. “Just as we have always done. We pride yourselves as your protector.” 

Your smile grows. “That’s a relief to hear.” You turn away from them, taking a step back to push back the fabric of your tent to take a step in. “It’s too late to back out anyways.” 

“Too late for what, General?” Jisoo asks. 

Your head turns to her and your smile doesn’t waver. “The letter has already been sent.”

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “What do you advise us to do now?” 

The King sits at this throne, setting down the newly passed message from General (Y/L/N)—only to come in view with the court. 

While he may not be downright angry, he is well aware of how the court may feel. He is also unsure of what will result in his best military general, especially since the war is not exactly over and done with—considering how King Wu may still hold resentments due to the aftermath. 

He glances at the letter once again, feeling his head throb. Why did you have to choose now of all times? 

Just moments ago, the second messenger from your troops arrived—announcing his arrival and reading the letter aloud for the rest of the court to hear. Upon the King’s request, he had left the letter to the King, still in shock with the present state of affairs. 

General (Y/L/N) is a woman. 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun says, stepping out from his spot. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“It is unacceptable for a woman to be of such a high position, nevertheless a man’s rightful position. I propose we remove and replace the General.” 

Official Lee steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“If I may remind some of us here that we are forever indebted to the General. We continue to be so, considering the current circumstances. While he—” He pauses, before correcting himself. “While she may be a woman, she is of the (Y/L/N) family. Not only have they been loyal to the throne, serving our country for many years, they have made many great sacrifices.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Official Lee is correct. We cannot just remove the General.” He pauses, not before glancing at Official Chun and his followers. “The war might be over but we still have to be alert. Allowing her removal is the equivalent of death for our country.” 

Sensing Chun’s anger from the indirect remarks, Official Mae steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“General (Y/L/N) is a woman. A woman with too much power shall be the root our demise.” He glances at the other side, spotting those behind the Vice Premier. “She must be put into her place before she gets too ambitious.” 

Official Song steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“From what we are aware, the (Y/L/N) family does not have any male heirs. Considering the circumstances, we cannot afford to replace her when there are still repercussions of the war to be settled.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun starts to say. 

However, the King puts his hand up, pausing the conversation from continuing any further. He has already made his decision: you were to keep your position. Your accomplishments have stacked up, leaving the entire country indebted to you and your trained troops. Your reputation in the military is the most impressive—no one can be compared to you. 

Although, it might be too unsettling for the officials for you to remain in your position. There must be some punishment—some kind of way to appease the court while you can still maintain your position, but not harsh enough for you to refute. 

“General (Y/L/N) is to keep her position,” the King announces. He continues, shutting down any more possible verbal opposition. “Our country is indebted to the General. She has obtained previous territories that have been lost in previous battles and she has won countless wars, including the one we have just won. Replacing her would only lead to our doom and, even then, we have no suitable replacement.” 

Official Jeong steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.”

“I believe that’s a wise decision, as expected from our King.” He swallows apprehensively. “However, we cannot leave her be. After all, she has deceived us—including you. What shall we do with her then?” 

The officials murmur and whispers are passed around. Removal is too drastic for the King, therefore an execution is already off the table. No one seems to have any ideas of a possible punishment. 

That is, anyone from the court. 

While the officials scramble for an idea, the Empress’ eunuch, Eunuch Hak, shuffles himself from her side to the King’s throne. 

There’s a hush that falls over the court officials. 

“The Empress requests an audience,” Eunuch Hak whispers to the King. 

“Accepted.” 

From behind her golden curtain, the Empress lifts herself from her spot and gracefully walks towards the court. Her head is held high with elegance and her footsteps are light—almost as if she’s gliding. The officials bow their heads as she walks between them, no one daring to look up at her. 

She stops in front of the throne, smiling as she looks up at the King. 

“Mother,” he says. “How do you suppose we deal with this predicament?”

“I am proposing a marriage.” 

The whispers start up again, unsure of what the Empress is trying to plan. 

“Your highness,” Official Kwon says. “To whom do you think the General shall be married to?” 

Her smile grows. “I believe that the second nephew is the most suitable candidate.” 

“Second nephew?” 

“She doesn’t mean—”

“The second prince?” 

The King straightens in his seat, intrigued with the idea. “You are proposing a marriage between the most distinguished figure in Korea and Yoon Jeonghan?” He takes a small breath in, leaning back with a cocked eyebrow as he contemplates the idea. 

Official Jeong speaks up once more. “Your highness, can you elaborate more as to how this is a suitable punishment?” 

“If you ask me, it’s explanatory,” Official Chun mumbles under his breath. 

Official Mae smirks at the comment, whispering back. “Prince Yoon is nothing more than a joke to the royal family.” 

The Empress lets out a small sigh, proceeding to pretend as if she didn’t hear the rude comments about her grandson. 

“It’s not about punishment.” she says. “It’s about balance.” Seeing the apprehensive look from the King, she continues. “Jeonghan is rather unorthodox. He spends much of his time dancing at the brothels and admiring artwork rather than martial arts or sports.” 

There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the officials. 

The Empress takes it as a sign to continue. “While he is a healthy man with three lovers, he is still uncommitted and unmarried. If the two were to be married, it can help solve the problems that are occurring for both parties.” 

The King nods silently, but awaits for the court. 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Her highness makes a good argument. I agree.” He thinks for a moment. “Not only would the General be married off to produce a male heir, but the rumors of Prince Yoon could also settle down once he’s married.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Lee says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“I agree with her highness and Official Kwon. This is more advantageous on our part,” he says. “I mean no offense when I say this, but Prince Yoon’s reputation is rather…” He pauses. “Unfavorable, at the moment. The General can help with that change and his with hers when the news spread in the villages.” 

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “Shall we proceed with the marriage then?” 

“Yes, we shall,” the King says with a nod. “From this day, we shall begin the wedding preparations. Once the General arrives back to the capital, Prince Yoon Jeonghan will become her husband.” 

The Empress moves herself to the sidelines as the King stands up, causing the officials to stop in their spots and lower their heads once more. He steps down from his throne, starting his descent down the stairs and onto the path laid out for him. 

The Vice Premier follows him from the right and his majesty’s eunuch, Eunuch Boo, follows him from the left—their conversation continuing in hushed tones. 

The Empress leaves shortly after the King’s departure with Eunuch Hak on one side and Court Lady Nam on the other, leaving the officials with themselves. 

“Court Lady Nam,” she says. “You shall inform Princess Consort Yoon.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She turns to her right. “Eunuch Hak.” 

“Yes, your highness?” 

“Begin the wedding preparations.” 

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! Please don’t ask for updates. If you would like status updates, check out the upcoming post we have with upcoming works that will be posted! 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 29)

Her muscle definition has faded and she finds herself once again as frail as she had been in the grassland. Perhaps worse so. There is no sympathy in the Fire Nation. There is hardly anyone around to give it to her. And so her body grows thinner, bonier, frightfully so and she finds herself missing and craving the Earth Kingdom hospitality she has grown used to.

And it is so hot. 

So, so terribly hot. 

She isn’t sure how she used to thrive in it and resents herself for not being able to thrive still.

She feels quite queasy. Her body trembles with hunger and heat. She pushes herself forward until she doubles over and vomits. Her vision goes fuzzy. She uses the last of her unsoiled towels to clean her face. She drinks the last bit of water in her waterskin. 

She stumbles forward, her body sways, she can’t walk straight.

The sun beats down. 

She squints her eyes, she has trouble seeing over that merciless golden haze. 

It beats down with a viciously taunting intensity. It’s rays dance and simmer about as if to ask her what kind of firebender can’t stand a little Fire Nation heat? 

She has no answer for it. 

She comes by a small band of people, the first she has seen in a while. “I need water.” She informs them, voice strained. 

The side step her, look at her as though poverty is a disease that she may spread to them if they get too close.

Time passes strangely in her heat daze. But at some point she comes to a village. By now she is deeply parched, her lips cracked and dry. The sun has fallen and risen once, maybe twice, she can’t remember. Her stomach is past the point of aching, it has given up after so many days of ignored requests. 

She stumbles up to the first building, bracing herself heavily against its wall. People pass her by offering her nothing but looks of pity and disgust. 

She is dying, don’t they care that she is dying?

Does anyone care?

That day...days...week...her head is too foggy to retain any lessons, let alone make sense of them.

.oOo.

She isn’t sure that she is ready to let her euphoria and delight go, but she has to cleanse the wound soon; the longer she sits and lets it fester the worse it will be, the harder to clean. And, spirits are her emotional wounds deep. 

She lifts Caihong into her arms and carries her out towards the palace gardens and then further still. 

“Azula, where are we going?” Sokka pads alongside her. 

“To the coronation hall.” She replies. 

“Why there?”

She offers him only a shrug. Truth be told she simply can’t think of a better location; she doesn’t want to stain and tarnish her garden with poor memories nor mar the palace halls with them. Neither does she want to create new places that are hard to walk past. So she will take herself back to a place that she already has trouble visiting and make it harder still.

Caihong wiggles around in her arms, swiveling her head every which way. “This city’s really big!” She exclaims. 

“Yes, quite.” Azula replies, brushing a hand over her hair as though she isn’t going to bring the girl to tears very soon. Azula takes a deep breath as steps upon the grate. They had neglected to remove the chains that had bound her to it. Her stomach heaves and she clutches Caihong tighter. It had happened so long ago and yet it still has a grip on her mind, a stomach fluttering, throat burning grip. 

She doesn’t think that Sokka realizes exactly what this place means to her, what those chains represent. Even so, he hooks his arm around hers. 

“You alright?” 

Another shrug. 

“You aren’t. Got it.” He mumbles. 

“I didn’t say…” 

“Exactly.” He replies. “You don’t say anything when you’re not doing well. What’s going on?”

“Nothing yet.” She sighs as she makes her way up the steps. She decides to ascend only halfway, lest the conversation drain her too much to be able to make it all the way back down. She takes a seat with Caihong in her lap and stares for a good while at the setting sun as it dips behind one of several tiered roofs. 

Looking down she could practically visualize powerful bursts of blue and orange. Deadly blasts...merciless eruptions…

She holds Caihong’s head against her chest.

Sokka sits silently next to her, hand atop hers. She closes her eyes and savors the feeling of it, the feeling of care, of being cared for. The last time she perched upon these steps, she had no such thing. She doesn’t think that she had even a concept of it.

“Caihong, we have to talk about something.” 

“What Ri...Azula?” The girl stares up at her with such big, pretty eyes. Carefree and hopeful…

“Remember when you asked when I’m going to take you back to Wujing, your father, and grandpa Ojihara?”

She nods, a wide grin breaking upon her face. Azula’s stomach lurches that much further. “Mmmhmm! I remember! Are we gonna go soon!” 

Azula swallows, “Caihong, we aren’t going back to Wujing. There is no Wujing.”

Her smile fades and her voice grows small. “What do you mean?”

“The village was invaded and burned, do you remember that?”

She nods. 

“The village was destroyed, Caihong. The buildings are falling apart and there’s no one left in the village.”

“Where did they go, Rikka!?”

Azula cringes. 

“We gotta find them!” 

Azula bites her cheek, it is the only thing that keeps a sob from escaping. She wishes that the child would just get it so that she wouldn’t have to say it out loud again. “They’re gone, Caihong.”

“Gone where, Rika!?”

She grits her teeth. “To the Spirit World. They’re gone, gone. Do you understand?”

She shakes her head. 

“Dead.” She clarifies quietly. “It’s just me and you. You learned about the airbenders in school, right?” 

“Y-yes.” Caihong wimpers. 

“Do you remember what happened to them?”

“The Fire Nation killed everyone ‘cept the Avatar?” 

Azula nods again. “That’s what happened to Wujing.”  

“No, Rikka!” She stops her foot, “no! Dad is still there, grandpa’s still there. We gotta go find Atsu!” 

She can’t stop the sob this time, she doesn’t know if she even wants to. “Atsu is dead, Caihong. So is Seukhyun and Ojihara and Hajime and Min-Min…” Her body shakes.  

“No!” Caihong screams again. “No! No! No!” 

She wishes that the girl would stop. It is breaking her and she is already broken. She wants to comfort the girl but she can hardly keep herself from screaming just the same way. “Come here, Caihong.” She implores softly but the girl is sprinting down the stairs.

Sokka curses and chases after her. He catches up without a hitch and scoops the girl into his arms despite a decent amount of kicking and arm batting. “I wanna find dad!” She screams, it is so shrill; Agni, it sounds like her throat will tear.

Azula leans heavily against the steps and bunches in on herself. She hates that scream, hates the torment in it. Hates that she had to be the one to bring her the news that brought them on.

Sokka holds her tightly in spite of the trashing until she is all out of energy. Azula’s tears are more or less silent, she could very much use an embrace but Caihong’s need is more desperate. She has already been through the throes of loss, the child hasn’t.

“I don’ have a family no more.” Caihong murmurs after her cries slow. 

Azula forces herself upright wipes her tears away with her sleeve and then dabs Caihong’s away, “you do have a family.”

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes and nose on Azula’s sleeve. 

Azula’s nose crinkles.

“You do have a family.” Sokka smiles, “do you think that Azula would let just anyone wipe their runny nose on her sleeve?”

Caihong rubs at her eyes, “no.” 

“Well then…” He gives her a firm pat on the back. “You do have a family still, it just isn’t the one you thought that you’d have.” He looks away from Caihong for a moment and smiles at her. 

She swallows and rests her chin atop Caihong’s head. She holds the girl so tightly. 

“You both have a family.”

[radramblog]

Ultimate^2

Super Smash Brothers Ultimate has finally unveiled its final DLC character, with reactions ranging fully across the spectrum. Hot takes abound.

I mean, statistically, just about every possible opinion is going to be represented. There were at least 500,000 people watching the reveal stream, and that’s not including those viewing through restreams. That’s insane for a trailer of any kind, let alone for a console-exclusive video game DLC.

Now that it’s been like… a day and a bit, I think most of the spciest takes have probably been made, which is the perfect time for me to chip in with my own milder opinion. More of a butter chicken, really.

(no images in this one i’m lazy tonight)

I figure I’m this late already, might as well drop some notes on the other ones first.

Piranha Plant was kind of the definition of an unexpected pick. Not only was it from an already well-represented franchise, being fucking Mario, it’s also just…not a character. As such it makes an odd choice for a DLC fighter…except for the part where it was free. If you owned the game in its first month. And frankly, I don’t think people would have been happy if it wasn’t. As it is, though, it’s a perfectly fine character- surprisingly cute, actually.

I’m unsurprised about Joker’s inclusion. With how huge Persona 5 became in both Japan and the west, capitalizing on it to make a shitload of money makes perfect sense. The character plays well enough, though the meter gimmick was kind of a daunting sign of things to come. All that in mind, though, the most surprising thing about Joker being in the game is that they still haven’t put P5 on the Switch. Atlus please.

Hero and Banjo/Kazooie were announced on the same night, and I distinctly recall someone saying that this was one for the Japanese audience and one for the Americans. I mean, I’ve never played Dragon Quest, so I guess I fell into the latter? Both series have a long, well-regarded pedigree (Banjo’s lack of recent offerings notwithstanding), so both arguably deserve their respective positions. Hero is the much more notable character gameplaywise, though, with the incredibly complex mana and spellcasting mechanics. Complaints about RNG in Smash aren’t completely unfounded- though it has existed in the past in the form of, say, Luigi’s misfiring side-B- but I know a lot of people think Hero took it too far. If I’m honest, though, the weirdest thing is just having Akira Toriyama-ass 3D models in the game. Banjo’s gameplay is…awkward. The kit is kind of a mess, but at least the gimmicks weren’t going too hard, you know?

Next was Terry, perhaps the most obscure character on the entire list in 2021. I actually really like Terry in this game- while he’s still trying to emulate a similar feel to Ryu/Ken, the difference feels more natural, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s because I’ve never really devoted significant time to them, but Terry’s kit feels easier to work within than the Shotos when going between characters.

Finally for the first Pass, we had Byleth. I think it’s for the best that they announced the second Fighter’s Pass before this released, because if both 4 and Ultimate had ended their run on Fire Emblem DLCs then people would have been pissed. I mean, people were already pissed, but like…moreso. As someone who has played Three Houses, I do think the game is worth celebrating, but having yet another Fire Emblem Protagonist (read: basically a blank slate) in the game over all the substantially more interesting characters 3H has to offer is just really frustrating. Also the final smash looks like dogshit, like FE3H has overall worse animations than Smash for obvious reasons but I’m pretty sure this attack looked better the first time around.

FP2 opened with Min Min, which brings ARMS to the table. ARMS. The only first-party fighting game Nintendo has outside of Smash, so it looks a bit less weird next to everything else but…come on, man. I think this was the most confusing pick of all of them- the game came out in 2017, and having Min Min in Smash would serve as promotion for a sequel…which hasn’t been announced. There was a graphic novel in the works, but it was cancelled earlier this year. Oops? At least the stage was fun.

As much as playing them is awkward and complex, the Minecraft addition was fitting. Only the best-selling game around. I think people weren’t sure if Microsoft would go for it, but they let us have Banjo, so sure. I’m mostly just annoyed that they couldn’t get any of the songs from the actual game in there- like, you got one in from the fucking mobile game, but you couldn’t just get C418 on the phone?

Sephiroth is definitely one of the hype-ier releases from this pass. The character is iconic, as is his theme and his home game. I’ve never played any Final Fantasy game, but I can still respect the name. Once I remember how to spell it. The whole bossfight aspect to his release was also quite cool, while it lasted.

On the other hand, I have no love for Pyra nor Mythra. There’s so much wrong with these ones, frankly. They’re another swordy character, immediately following Sephiroth too, and they go back on Smash’s very deliberate decision to split characters like Zelda/Sheik and Samus/ZSS up (Yes I know Pokemon Trainer does the same thing but I have a lot more leniency for them). Add in their being from a JRPG much less well-known or remembered than the previous couple characters and the designs being…questionable, I have a big issue with the whole thing. This was also around when I kinda stopped playing the game in general, and they definitely didn’t help pull me back in.

Kazuya might have, though. With the exception of him and Sephiroth, all the characters from the Fighter’s Passes were pretty much protagonist-types, but this motherfucker pulses with the essence of bad guy. What I’m saying is that he’s fucking cool, and while he’s ludicrously complex, that makes perfect sense since…I mean just look at the combo lists from Tekken 7. His inclusion also kinda rounds out the list of biggest fighting game franchises out there being rep’d in the game, though I imagine now I’m going to have stans from Mortal Kombat or whatever on my back. They’re not going to put a fatality-capable character in Smash, guys!

Finally, this rounds us around to the original point of this article. Let’s talk about Sora. And by that I mean…I don’t really have a huge amount to say about him. Kingdom Hearts is a franchise that completely passed me by growing up, and I don’t think I have the time or energy to devote to it now. I’m sure it’s good, people seemed really excited for him to be in the game so they have to have gotten that love from somewhere, but I don’t share that feeling.

That’s not to say that I don’t think he deserves a slot. The idea of “deserving a slot” in Smash Bros is kind of an odd concept, even though it’s come up a lot so far this post. But a slot in this roster isn’t just a place in a popular fighting game, because at this point, Smash is kind of a museum of (mostly Nintendo) games- and so having representation is a forever acknowledgment that the franchise is, or has been, an icon to so many. Kingdom Hearts, to my knowledge, has 100% earned that position, and so Sora getting to be playable here makes perfect sense. He wasn’t my pick (Touhou representation never I guess), but I’m happy for those who wanted him.

As far as the actual gameplay looks, he reads like a character that kept in mind what people didn’t like about Hero when he released. It’s another sword-based character, which I think at this point speaks more about the demographic of video game characters than it does about Smash. But I appreciate that the Magic Bullshit is toned down, and that it’s also his only real gimmick (The 3-hit combo feature is A Thing, but other characters e.g. Bayonetta have already done that, so whatever). His recovery potential looks patently absurd- like he just gets Pikachu/Pichu’s Up-B as a Side-B that can also be chained with his actual Up-B? This guy better be light as hell or he’s going to be super hard to take out. I dunno, I think he looks solidly fun enough- more dynamic and aerial than the other swordfighters, at least- and that’s good enough for me.

And I guess that marks the end of Smash Ultimate. Not with a bang, but with a key…dude. It’s been a very solid run, the game managing to keep itself fresh across several years of development, even as other games have risen and fallen. Smash is kind of forever at this point, I think, though the finality of Ultimate’s ultimate character implies that this particular iteration may be coming to its end. And seeing as it is always one Smash per console, I wouldn’t be shocked if the Switch itself was nearing its endgame as well.

Okay but also it’s pretty funny how they heavily censored everything Disney out of Sora’s DLC except for that little Mickey charm on the trailer, like how much must that one shot have cost them, was it even remotely worth it, I don’t know but I kinda want to

[goldenart0]

I know Scott said that all the gods were forgotten but I say fuck it myth time

Some notes: A) it’s not the same story as in the video because that’s how myths/legends/history work. B) yes I glossed over the Aeor/Exor (or however you spell it pease sir I want to write myths properly) thing but to be fair it’s not the main part of this story

No one remembers the old gods, at least not as they once were. As time went on they faded from memory and took new names, new titles. Older peoples kept there stories for a time but even so-called immortals can’t hold on forever. By the time humans came into the world and held their power even mentions of the spirits were getting fewer and fewer.

But let’s go back to when the gods shone in all their true power.

There were many gods, more than could be listed here. Gods of the sky, the earth, the sea. Gods of peoples and of places, gods of animals and plants.

Even gods have enemies though, and often what troubled those who looked up to them troubled them as well. And although many times have forces risen to damage the world, none hit as hard as The Corruption. It was a force of destruction, ruining all it touched and bringing only death across the land. The Corruption grew with everything it destroyed and by the time the gods came together to remove this poison in their world it took all of them to return the world to a state of peace. Different stories would say that the gods fell asleep after this, using all their power in the fight, or that they gave their power into the land and left it for good, given rise to spirits to watch over what they did once before, or that those spirits are the gods, in new forms, unrecognized in their power. Some say the gods became the stars we see at night listing for above, or that they formed the hills and seas we walk and swim across, and some that they rest in a world of their own, keeping The Corruption at bay.

Now not all of the gods vanished then, into wherever they rested. Two brothers, gods of the stags, animals as fierce as they can be elegant, stayed back in the world. Were they younger, or a new generation or simply used less power in the fight? Were they told to stay back and watch over? Whatever reason those brothers remained in own world no one can say for sure. Each in turn gained followers, and thus power. But of course siblings will never stay content at each other forever and fighting soon began. And fight they did. An elder trying to hold the world in happiness and a younger jealous of power. Jealous in gods never ended well and it soon seemed to the older one that his brother couldn’t remained in the world if peace and light was to stay. Perhaps some of the old corrupting that the older gods had spend their life defeated had stuck around, or perhaps it is the way of the universe for conflict to rise and for brothers to fight. The world was at war for a time, the followers of the gods taking stances mirroring the godly fight with mortal ones until both the God and the people who followed him were banished, hidden from mortal eyes and minds.

The stag god too would fade from the stories and legends, finding a place alongside side some of his fellow gods as spirits of the land. The stag of the mountains, warming and protecting the people that still knew his name. The child of flowers playing in the forest guarding natures against harm. The mother wolf, guiding her pack throughout the forest helping travelers. Spirits of the grass and trees, the underground caves, and gems buried in the mountains. Those that remember and make peace with these spirits, or as some would say forgotten gods, will earn gifts and protection, but harm them or the people they protect and devastation will be brought upon you.

And of course, they are still whispers of destruction and corruption across the land. Of fallen kingdoms and ruined towers. Of red tendrils and fires burning. But of course, whispers are only whispers after all. The gods and those who they fought are gone, if they even existed.

Right?

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Childe Kadathine From the Tower Came

A gloom strangled the dusty valley. Old rock towered over darkest depths, drowned in fog and shadows. The waning sun of a late afternoon could not pierce the clouds and natural walls of jagged stone crags.

Jutting out in between them, atop a crumbling cliff, stood the Tower of Woe. Like a nail that dared to defy the natural order of things, it loomed, partly bathed in light from the setting sun, partly cast in the valley's dark. Hewn eerily smooth by human hands and fashioned in ways that suggested its makers remembered a cyclopean era, the tower's bleached slabs shared the age of the stone surrounding it.

An impossibility that had survived for thousands of years, resistant to destruction. An impossibility made real by sorcery, impervious to the sands of time.

The beaked edges of the structure almost took the shape of two claws, one grasping the earth beneath the tower, and the other reaching out to grab the heavens by the throat. Devised by an ancient civilization of devious wizards who fancied themselves greater than divinity, its shape inspired awe in the brave, and dread in the feeble-minded.

It thrummed with arcane energies. Any who beheld it quaked with an air of unease, permeating the entire valley. So far removed from civilization that only few ever survived the journey across a wasteland to reach it, and even fewer possessed the strength to brave whatever terrible secrets the tower held.

Not a single bird chirped. No insects buzzed. Animals avoided this desolate valley, draped in a deafening silence, save for a soft hum that emanated from the lonesome tower. A rumbling.

Red light cast by fire shone out and flickered from the myriads of narrow, glassless windows upon the face of the tower.

Something had come alive in its depths.

A wizard from Korvosa, Furio Falco, returned to the mouth of the valley. He returned to the Tower of Woe where he had dwelt and researched its many oddities.

Gravel and stone crunched underfoot, and though he was barely over thirty summers old, the uneven and precarious path forced him to use his ornate cane to secure his every step.

Calling it a path, however, was a stretch. Few mortals had tread upon it in the past millennia. So few that it still bore the footprints left behind by Falco's master, the Knight in Black named Septisanthas, who had discovered the ominous tower several years before leading the wizard there.

Claws of a dragon had scarred the tower's top and the pinnacles of the rocky spires framing the valley alike. Standing testament to the vale's third guardian, Karathrax.

The dragon had served well in preventing any raiders from approaching the tower, and the absence of such marauders afforded both Karathrax and Septisanthas their leave to attend other matters.

Now, Falco was all alone with the thing underneath the tower. He walked alone to the looming edifice, its narrow entrance from which eerie red light glowed, beckoning him to return.

The cool mountain air contrasted with the blazing heat of the sun he had basked in outside the valley, temperatures now clashing to make the wizard's head throb uncomfortably in the onset of a headache.

But the hours away from the tower had helped clear his mind. Helped center him and shed all excess thoughts as he had meditated out in the open, mulling over what magic he might need to employ next in examining the awakened thing in the depths.

An unliving mystery.

Clanking and clattering sounds echoed throughout the hollow center of the tower, bouncing off sharp-edged pillars and angular walls, punctuating the wizard's entry and descent, competing with the rapping of his boots as he took each step down the spiraling stairwell. Down hundreds upon hundreds of steps. Leaving him too much space to wonder what the creature was doing down there to cause such ruckus.

Heat from the lava pits beneath the tower rose, drying out the wizard's nose and leaving him with a tingling sensation, and turning his mouth to feel like he had been chewing on cotton.

He wondered what secrets the creature may reveal if it could still speak coherently. The clanking continued all the while.

Did the creature rail against its metal bondage, he wondered?

It sounded much less inert than after its initial awakening.

Falco stopped in his tracks at the end of the stairs, at the end of the long hallway leading to the Chamber of Catechisms. The air down here was close to blistering hot, prompting him to loosen the tight collar of his fine red vest.

The clanking had also gone silent. Only the monotone and growling rumble of the tower's churning machinery, perpetually powered by the lava pits, filled the air.

It could have broken free, he now worried.

SHWINK.

The wizard had drawn his silvery sword, previously hidden inside his cane, and approached the pointy-arched gate at the end of the hallway. The dark red light from the lava pits wavered here. The machinery rumbled loudest.

Sculptures carved into the masonry of the massive gate still sent chills down Falco's spine, even after having visited this chamber time and time and again. They depicted the old god-king and his armies subjugating all manner of monsters and legions, chained, and tormented under the grasping, greedy claws of their cruel emperor.

Falco stopped again before passing the gate. He expected the creature to jump out from the shadows of the corridor, from hiding places situated between opulent marble statues. Sneaking up on him unheard, all sounds it made drowned out by the bubbling of the lava pits and the churning of giant gears.

He scanned the walls, eyes nervously searching every dark spot. Swiveling to see the thing at the edge of his vision, always out of sight; a figment of his imagination, or his eyes playing tricks on him. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Marched onwards, ready to unleash his most powerful magic. Then immediately rethinking his strategy. The sword would do little. He never really used it other than as a threat or deterrent. And he mentally prepared to use magic for egress, rather than battle.

Whatever this thing was, he was certain that his thin, fine blade could do little to harm it.

For it had no flesh to cut. No organs to pierce.

He lowered the sword, keeping it by his side as a precaution, uncertain what it might communicate if the creature saw him near with the weapon raised. He set his jaw and continued onward. Had to face this thing. Speak with it.

It had spoken. Little, merely a string of disconnected words that failed to form a sentence. But the words it had uttered were pregnant with sophistication, they bore intelligence, and came on wings of the ancient tongue.

It might be able to shed so much light on the forgotten empire. To illuminate the mysteries its emperor and armies of wizards once held in their golden-clawed clutches.

Chains and ancient torture devices drooped drearily from the spiked iron fixtures upon soot-blackened walls. Heat rising from the dizzying depths of the pits below the iron grates distorted the air.

The creature stood out in the open. Free. Standing barely bigger than a tall man, its presence exuded something eerily menacing.

It turned. Its yellow robes flowed. From underneath its deep hood, its steel, expressionless mask faced Falco. Hollow eyes stared back at him, beyond which only unfathomable darkness lurked.

Was it angry? Confused?

Free from the shackles they had locked it in upon its awakening—the manacles still affixed to its wrists, with pieces of heavy broken chains dangling uselessly from them. Chains with the integrity to hold the strongest of men, and reinforced with magic to restrain even giants, even after all the years since their forging.

Almost as if to demonstrate the futility thereof, a shining, gilded hand of the creature curled its fingers around one of the shackles still wreathed around its wrist.

It grabbed. Squeezed.

The metal whined as it bent apart, crunched, and deformed under the iron vice of its grip. The creature twisted and pulled without any visible effort until the metal shackle broke apart, then clattered onto the iron grates at its steel-tipped feet, slipping and jangling until the broken shackle fell down hundreds of paces into the lava below the Chamber of Catechisms.

Falco cleared his throat and mustered all his courage to flash a defiant grin.

Delivering his best impression of what the forgotten empire's tongue must have once sounded like, he called out to it with bright and optimistic melody, "Greetings."

"Greetings," replied the creature with none of the feigned enthusiasm. "I am now fully awake."

The way it enunciated gave Falco pause. The stresses on syllables surprised him. If the creature harbored no hostility, it could also prove to be an invaluable resource in learning how the old Thassilonians once spoke before the end of their world.

The creature wrenched the other manacle from its wrist, producing the same unnerving spectacle of effortlessly destroying it and discarding it the same way as the first. Harboring no more doubts about it in his mind, Falco's first response to any sign of hostility would be to use magic to help him escape.

There was no way he could fight this thing alone.

"Pardon the, uhm, you know," Falco said, tipping his head to gesture at the sorry reminders of chains they had kept the creature in.

The masked metal creature reared its head and stared at the wall they had chained it to.

"You were wise to take such precautions for your own safety," said the creature. It spoke in a constant dull monotone, mirroring the constant, grinding rumble of the tower's machinery. Turning to face Falco again, it added, "Your attire is strange. I have never seen such fashion throughout the empire. Have new kingdoms risen in the west?"

Falco pursed his lips and pondered. The thin leather of his glove gripping the hilt of his slender sword now audibly cracked, reminding him of the tension throughout his body.

"Many kingdoms have risen and fallen since you last walked this earth. I am not sure you would recognize this world any longer."

The wizard became acutely aware of the distance between him and the steel creature.

Twenty paces. He had always been a good judge of measurement.

Asked the creature, "What year is this?"

"'Tis 4708 of the Absalom Reckoning."

The creature paused, then said, "I am entirely unfamiliar with your calendar."

Falco nodded, now feeling a painful reminder of the tension in his neck. It coupled with the dry sensation in his mouth, and the throbbing of his temples as his head began to ache.

"By my estimate, it has been around ten thousand years since you went to sleep. Your makers did well in constructing your form. It had been, uh, inert all this time, as far as I can tell."

"I am no construct. I am not even of your world."

It took a step towards Falco, and he instinctively took a step back in response. They both froze. The gears continued to grind; the tower continued to rumble incessantly.

"Fear not. I will do thee no harm unless you seek to render unto me the same," the creature said emotionlessly.

It did not help. Falco pondered what allegiance he should explicitly espouse—or feign—in the face of this strange entity. This tower had once served as a place of painful punishment, purposed for spies and traitors who had crossed the god-emperor.

This thing—had it been captive here? Or jailor?

But the creature interrupted his thoughts.

"I am not of your realm. I am child of Leng," it said.

The mention of the nightmare realm sent shivers to run down Falco's spine. He only knew that dread name from scarce legends, things barely known to even the greatest scholars who dedicated their lives to studying the mysteries of the Dark Tapestry and the Great Beyond.

"I chose to replace my flesh with the metals and innovative wonders of your realm, and before you, now, stands the wondrous result of this marriage between two very different worlds."

It raised its hands high in demonstration, allowing the wide sleeves of its yellow robe to openly display the mechanical marvels of its hands. Splayed its fingers, then balled them into fists. Its body put those of iron golems to utter shame, resembling more of a clockwork than a crude machine. The metal and gold linings upon all its edges shimmered in the glimmer of deep crimson light.

"Truly curious," said Falco. The irreverent wizard's voice trembled with newfound reverence.

The mystery of this creature continued to unfold, raising more and more questions.

"Why would you forsake your original body? I have been led to believe that you—your kind—you are made of the essence of dreams."

The hollow stared into Falco's eyes. Watched him. It stood still, neared not further.

"The essence of nightmares," it corrected him. Without melody. Menacing words, spoken without malice. "Immortal, yes. But as I stand before you, now, does my very being, here, before you, differ that much? I traded one form of immortality for another. My second body has advantages that my first did not, and vice versa. I prefer this form."

Falco mulled over what the denizen of Leng told him. Could it be a sophisticated golem, spinning a yarn and pulling a fast one on him? Some wizards did pull elaborate pranks in creating such devices.

"You can put your blade away," it said. "It will do you no good against me. If I wanted to dismember you, I would have already done so."

Falco gritted his teeth and his lips pressed against one another so hard that they turned into a thin white line. In an elegant flash, he sheathed the short sword back into his cane, blew a strand of frazzled hair from his face, and shifted his weight.

The tension remained.

At any rate, with his hands free, he could more easily flick his wrists and accurately draw the arcane glyphs necessary to conjure a spell, and the creature was indeed correct: he and his blade would not be able to put a single dent into that thing's mithral shell.

"What is your name?" he asked it.

It folded its hands in front of itself. Metal joints clicked harmoniously, and long, wide sleeves slid together, concealing those gilded digits.

"The Yellow Monk."

Falco arched a brow and mulled it over before responding, "That is a title."

"And yet it was the name most commonly used by your kind to address me."

"What about the, hm, less commonly used one, then?"

A chuckle erupted from behind the mask. Short, clipped. Soft. But chilling.

Unnatural.

"The Kadathine," it said with little pause to follow. "Another title, but I never had a need for a name, prior to arriving in this world of yours. Titles serve just as well."

"Alright. Yellow Monk it is," Falco muttered with a sigh. Then louder, he spoke, "I will have you know, that Thassilon has long fallen. And ten thousand years have likely passed since the Claimer held the Resplendent Throne."

The creature paused and took another step towards Falco. Its joints clicked, something mechanical whirred in its bowels.

The wizard stood still, hoping not to offend this bizarre being's sensibilities.

Nineteen paces away.

"He has not yet risen from the Eye of Avarice?" asked the Yellow Monk.

"No, but I've heard that name before. According to lore, it is secreted away in his hidden golden city. Scholars, such as I, and treasure hunters alike, we have all sought to find it, but to no avail. Perhaps you can tell me if it is even real? Or you know where that fabled city lies?"

"I do."

Another step.

Eighteen paces away.

Falco swallowed again. The heat here was unbearable, but it was not the heat that drove sweat to erupt from his pores.

"Do you care to share? Enlighten me, please."

"I will not. Enlightenment is attained on one's own. It is a result of one's own efforts."

Another step. Seventeen paces away.

"Ah, so you were one of the Claimer's loyal servants during the days of his rule?"

"I was, until I was not any longer. Gaze upon my golden robe, and see the gilded lines fused to my body. Know this: they were gifts from the Claimer. Rewards for my loyalty."

"But not any longer—was that why you were here? We—I—was led to believe that this tower—the Tower of Woe—that it was used to exact punishment on the god-king's unruly subjects. Why were you here?"

Another step. Sixteen paces away.

"I refused to consign myself to his return after sequestering himself to the Eye. As a toll for my transgression, the Claimer ordered me dismantled and smelted down within the forge of this tower. Most Exalted Ceoptra and her Wardens of Wind were tasked with my systematic destruction. The last thing I recall was the rune giants plucking the limbs from my torso."

Fifteen paces away. Falco's nervousness swelled, crept closer towards fear and outright panic.

This creature was entirely unpredictable.

Its tale so implausible that it refused to resemble fabrication. So bizarre that it had to hold truth.

The Yellow Monk chuckled again. Clipped once more, eerie in how cold and calculated its laughter felt. Like it had learned to emulate human laughter, but never understood it.

"Someone must have miscalculated, given how you and I now speak this freely."

"Fascinating," Falco blurted out. "You are fascinating. I know it may be a lot to ask, but—may I study you?"

Another step. Fourteen paces away.

At ten, Falco figured, he would flee.

"Study me? That is a fascinating prospect. And a mutual interest. I may want to study you more than you wish to study me. For instance, you must possess understanding of the arcane arts. Was it you who reassembled me?"

Thirteen steps remained between them.

"Yes. Y-yes, that was my doing," Falco said, clearing his throat again. The heat here had parched it so quickly that it felt like sandpaper. "Well, my understanding, now, is that you are an enemy of the Claimer."

"Incorrect," said the Yellow Monk.

"What?"

"Incorrect," it repeated.

"But he ordered you dismantled. Destroyed."

"Yet I do not deem him enemy. And furthermore, where is he now? Ten thousand years, so you said. He should have long returned yet remains absent."

"If all tales are to be believed, then he's trying to claw his way back into this world as we speak. Are you not concerned about him finding you and finishing what he started?"

Twelve steps.

"No. I am but a speck of dust in his grand designs. Where I came from, many other beings made of nightmare follow. The Claimer thinned the borders between our worlds. So much so that a feather suffices to pierce the parchment-thin barrier."

Eleven steps.

Falco's muscles, taut as steel chords, felt like they teetered on the brink of snapping apart. With delay, he recognized the grinding of his own teeth.

"If I helped you find the Claimer before he fully returns to your world, I would surely only draw his ire again. But as it stands now, I am free, and he remains entrapped in a prison of his own making," said the Yellow Monk. "What of me would you study? What would you have me tell thee?"

"Hm, all things considered, if you truly hail from Leng, then there is much I could learn from you about it. The reality of its existence is still a hotly-debated subject among my peers."

"I can assure you, Furio Falco—it is real."

A jolt shot through the wizard's body.

"How do you know my name?"

"Time and dreams are a strange thing. Time does not flow like a river, and all dreams flock eventually to the onyx walls of Kadath, afraid they can never escape its impossibly high summit, even more than Great Old Mhar awakening in the Fossa, and the howls of the hideous hounds of Tindalos, as they chase you across lost shores, the stink of fear escaping your skin. Their barbed tongues and eyeless maws reach out and snap at you, always just out of reach. Are you escaping them, or are they driving you somewhere?"

"W-what—what are you? What are you really?" Falco breathed, taken aback.

The Yellow Monk had described nightmares in all-too vivid detail—nightmares he had experienced before.

"Just another doorway to Azathoth," whispered the Yellow Monk.

Another step.

Ten paces away.

Yet Falco hesitated. Even without the influence of magic, this "Yellow Monk" compelled him to stay and listen. It held so much knowledge. So many answers that could be coaxed from it—if only he posed the right questions.

Just a few steps more, then he would take his escape.

He promised. He silently promised that to himself.

"Are there more—more of your kind? Did the Claimer draw more of you into this world?"

Nine. Nine paces away.

"Yes, and no. He opened a door and bid us enter. We stepped through of our own volition. Curious to explore your world, invited inside without needing our black ships to cross the darkness between the stars."

Eight.

"Fear me not, young man. Unlike my kin, I have chosen this marvel of metallurgy for a body. I have no designs on taking or experimenting on your kind. I have long outgrown such childish curiosity. I seek merely to perfect myself."

Falco frowned, interjected, "Perfect yourself? What do you mean?"

"I seek to become a perfect being. No god, no king. Does your world not perpetually live in question of their rule? Wonder if they truly exist, or if it is but human ambition and belief that gives them form? I can tell you, beyond a shadow of doubt, that the Old Ones exist. I know their names, and I can gaze upon their countenance without losing my mind. And I seek to join their ranks upon the day of my glorious return home."

Seven.

The Yellow Monk approached slowly, but Falco knew this slowness was deliberate. Chosen. For as powerful as the thing was, as easily as it had torn off its shackles, it likely possessed speed sufficient to cross the dwindling distance between them in the blink of an eye.

It always had.

"So that when one of your kind closes their eyes, and they glimpse the Dreaming Shore, and the Nameless Rock, and the Spider Vales—they will see my gleaming form. Brilliant, and shining out from the gloom, serene and immaculate and imposing. A beacon to guide the way, a blinding light that inspires awe even among the shantaks and the High-Priest Not To Be Described."

Six.

Another chuckle, more bone-chilling than any before. Clipped again, a mere mimicry of human sentiment. This close, the dim red light from the lava below reflected ominously on the sharp edges of Yellow Monk's mask.

"Fear me not, Furio Falco. I may not care if the Claimer returns or not—if that is the way that things were ordained for your world, so be it. No, I exist outside of whatever struggle he represents—his five-hundred-year rule was but a footnote in the annals of history. No, I yearn to broaden my horizons. And I believe you could teach me many things of your world, and of your new age."

Falco knew not what to ask. The sheer cascade of knowledge and gibberish that spilled forth from the Yellow Monk's mask staggered his thoughts. His mind circled and cycled at a thousand leagues a minute.

"And if all else fails, I am ever in search of worthy opponents to measure my strength against. Perhaps you—"

Five.

Five paces away, Falco flicked his wrist and blurted out the incantations necessary to vanish. In a flash of green light, leaving behind the stench of sulfur and a brief distortion of the air where he stood mere seconds ago, he had disappeared.

The Yellow Monk turned. Looked around.

Reached out and pawed at the air where Falco had stood before him.

"Very well. I shall await your return. If you hear me, there is nothing to fear. I, too, would like to know how I have awoken after all this time," said the Yellow Monk. "And I am sure you have so many more answers to provide."

But nobody was there to hear his dull, menacingly monotonous words.

Falco had not just turned invisible, he had escaped the place in an instant, bending space and time and reappearing at a safe distance, well out of sight from the Yellow Monk, outside the Tower of Woe.

Falco ran, stumbled, and staggered down the rough-and-tumble path of the valley.

Gathering his thoughts would have to wait.

Unraveling the Yellow Monk's mysteries took a rank well behind his will to live.

And in his next nightmare, they would meet again.

—Submitted by Wratts

[bvckys-doll]

If Only [2/2]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Little Mermaid AU)

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: James was the man who rescued Princess (Y/N) but even though he wants to tell her everything that happened, he can’t. Because he lost his voice so he could be with her...

Warnings: none except you don’t like tentacles...

Author’s note: Since I really loved the general idea of the little drabble I wrote, I turned it into a two part fic. Maybe I will even write a prequel on how Bucky saved (Y/N) etc. Also thanks to @valkyriesryde​ because she inspired me to continue after the first part, shout out to her!

You can find my main masterlist here!

The ground was ice-cold and Bucky could feel a slight breeze through the walls of the castle. The dungeons were near the beach. Right next to the sea. Right next to his actual home, where his brothers and sisters waited for him and desperately searched for him. But he had been naive enough and had gotten involved in the deal with Rumlow. He should never have trusted him.

“What one does not do for love, right?“ he suddenly seemed to hear his own voice at the end of the long passage leading away from his cell. He lifted his head and tried to see something in the dark. Soon the man stepped into the bright moonlight that shone in through one of the small windows and his dark eyes flashed. He had a nasty smile on his lips.

“Did you really think I'd let it come to this? That I would watch you ride into the sunset with your princess? No. I will see to it that I get what's due me. Your father is the reason why I have to reside like this now and he will pay for it.“ Rumlow looked down on James who had now risen from his place on the wet cell floor and walked towards him. Only the bars separated the two from each other. His knuckles turned white as James clasped the bars and squeezed them tightly. What he would throw at his head now if he only could. The only thing he could give of himself was an angry growl.

“And you know what else is funny? Although your little princess seemed so in love with you, she chose me. And I don't even want her.“ he laughed. Furiously Bucky kicked against the bars and tried to reach for Rumlow through them at the same time. To grab him somehow, but it didn't help. Calmly Rumlow took a step backwards to avoid Bucky's attempts to hurt him in any way.

“We'll see you at the wedding tomorrow, if they will let go by then.“ Rumlow chuckled before he turned around and went upstairs.

Frustrated, Bucky settled down on the broken flatbed that stood in the cell and angrily tore his hair. He would never get out this cell before the wedding took place. Had he really lost (Y/N) forever?

------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile (Y/N) sat up in her room and went with her hairbrush through her (Y/H/C) hair. Her eyes were on the sea which she could see through her open balcony door. Again and again her thoughts wavered to the man who had saved her. Rumlow. But was he really the one who had pulled her to the shore back then? Who talked to her? Rumlow sounded just like her unknown hero, but...something seemed off. James.

He had been so angry and she still hadn't found out the reason. And she couldn't bear to leave him down in the cells alone. He was far too good-natured to do such an act without a good reason. Maybe he knew him. She had to talk to James.

She resolutely put her brush aside and stood from her place in front of her mirror before slipping on her robe over her nightgown. But before she could reach the door leading out of her room, she heard a melody.

As if hyponotised, the princess paused and let go of her doorknob before running to her balcony and looking down into the large palace garden. Not a soul seemed to be there, but she still heard the melody clearly so someone had to be there and hum this melody. For (Y/N) not visible, dark purple smoke clouds rose up to her. Slowly but surely without noticing, the princess inhaled it with every breath and her mind began to blur. What was about to do? She had forgotten. But now she knew one thing for sure – Prince Rumlow was her saviour, the man who owned her heart.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning began with loud bells. Bucky closed his eyes when he could hear the church bells. Why were they so loud? They never used to be.

Only after a few seconds did he realize what was going on. Those were the bells from the church. Were they already married?

In full panic mode, he jumped up from his place on the wet and cold floor while bumping his head against the broken flatbed under which he had been lying in the process. With all the strength he could muster, he tried to catch a glimpse through the window but it was way too high for him.

Just as he was trying to climb up the stone wall, he heard some guards coming down the stairs. James hastily broke off attempt and turned to the men in uniforms when one of them grabbed a key and unlocked his cell door with it. Apparently, they were just as surprised as he was to be released from his cell. The captain took a quick look at James. His boots were wet and dirty as were his pants and his shirt which hung something out of his pants. Only then did he look James in the eye and nod towards the exit “The regent wants to see you“ Soon Bucky kneeled before Anthony Stark, the regent of Atlantica and guardian of (Y/N). Tony had already noticed how nervous James seemed to be. Again and again he looked around and tried to take a look outside.

„What you did yesterday was irresponsible. Since you are still a good friend of the princess and she would never let me judge you, I pardon you. If however it should happen a second time that you stand against the rules in this kingdom, you will be banished. Did you hear me, James?“ Tony asked him in a serious tone and looked down on Bucky who had kneeled in front of him on the floor and lowered his head. When Tony asked him the question, he raised his head and nodded.

“There are still some preparations to be made. The wedding is tonight before sunset, so I expect you to retire for the rest of the day. One of our servants will bring you some suitable clothes for the wedding to your room. (Y/N) and Prince Brock have invited you“ Tony explained to the desperate James who looked up at him with a hurt look. (Y/N) and Prince Brock, already the sound of their common names gave Bucky a blow. After all the time he had spent with (Y/N), he at least thought she would feel the same like he did. But he was wrong.

With a nod to his guards, they bowed shortly before they left the room. Tony wanted to talk to James in private without anyone being able to listen to them. A little confused, Bucky looked over his shoulder and then back up at Tony who came down the stairs before telling him to stand up.

Without hesitation Bucky rose from his place on the floor and looked at Anthony.

“I know how you feel about her and I can understand that it hurts you to hear that she has chosen another man whom she knows even less than you. However, I must admit that I was surprised when she told me this morning that she wanted to marry Brock before sunset. Even though we don't know each other for a very long time, same goes for (Y/N),...I believed that (Y/N) had...fallen in love with you.“ Tony confessed to him openly and turned his gaze to James as he slowly past him to look out of one of the large windows in the throne room.

James returned his gaze with a disappointed expression. So he was right after all. She had felt something for him. And it had been love.

“Maybe...she did it not for herself but her folk. Brock seems to come from a rich country and he could provide us very well and long. That's how a future queen should act, don't you think?“ Tony continued before he added “But please...never doubt that she felt something for you, because she did...or still does. More than I'd liked at first.“

James let his head down. He had her love, she had been within reach, but now everything seemed lost. He had lost.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

With a pouting face Bucky shuffled through the wet sand along the beach with his freshly polished boots. He had rolled up the sleeves of his smoothly ironed shirt to his elbows while his suit jacket was lying somewhere in his room over a chair.

Although he had received an invitation to the wedding, Bucky had no intention of showing up. Bucky knew he had lost and he would not give Rumlow the satisfaction of watching him celebrate his triumph before his eyes.

Just as he arrived near the pier to which some of the small rowboats were attached to, he heard a familiar voice calling his name “Buck?“

Shocked Bucky stopped in his tracks and blinked a few times as he saw his best friend in the distance looking back at him with the same expression on his face. Steve swam a little closer to him as he saw his friend standing there. On two legs. Ashore.

“How in Poseidon's name did you get legs? What the hell are you doing? We've been looking all over for you. Your father is worried sick, same as Rebecca and the others. Don't tell me you went to...He did this to you, am I right? Rumlow did. Why did you do that, Bucky?“ Steve pestered him with questions but all Bucky could do was drop his shoulder in defeat. With a tap on his throat and a shake of his head, Bucky tried to explain his friend why he couldn't give him an answer. At least not one that would be enough for him.

“You can't talk...“ Steve soon realized and looked up at his best friend with a heavy heart. “Is it because of this woman? The one you saved back then?“ Bucky nodded.

Sighing Steve dropped his shoulders and looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. Since this was not the case, he lifted himself out of the water and sat down on the edge of the footbridge. He held out his hand to Bucky “Show me what happened“

Like all mermaids and mermen, Steve had the gift of seeing and interpreting each other's thoughts and events by holding hands. This gift was only spread among their folk.

Embarrassed James sat down next his friend and laid his hand in Steves. Soon he could see all the events Bucky had experienced in the last three days. He was touched, amazed and horrified.

“We have to stop this. Rumlow can't win like that. I'm not gonna let him do this to you. Go to her, Bucky. Try to convince her that you're the one she should marry today.“ Steve glanced at Bucky as he let go of his hand while Bucky hinted that the sun was slowly moving south. He had no less than an hour and the ship had just cast off.

“Then we'll delay the whole process a little bit. But somehow we have to get you on this ship. Can you swim...with this?“ Steve asked him and tipped Bucky's thigh as he sighed and shook his head. Sighing Steve looked around before he nodded to a small rowing boat “Get in there“

---------------------------------------------------------------

With a hollow look on her face, (Y/N) stared towards the horizon as the sun slowly set towards the ocean. She stood beside her fiancé in front of the altar and heard the priest speak but she didn't recognize any of the words. Tightly she held onto the hand of the man she loved and who would soon become her husband as the swell slowly but surely increased which caused the ship to sway.

Blinking, the princess held on to Rumlow who had his gaze fixed on the sea and growled out of annoyance before he looked back at the old priest “Go on, go on.“

But before the old man could ask the decisive question, some guests screamed as the ship stopped abruptly as if it had run onto a reef. Shortly afterwards Bucky climbed up the side of the ship and hopped over the railing.

“You're a little too late, don't you think, James?“ Rumlow raised an eyebrow as Bucky grabbed one of the guards' swords and attacked Rumlow. The guests were frightened, some of the women screamed in horror as (Y/N) hastily dodged, falling to the ground in the process as the ship moved to the side again.

Rumlow drew his sword as well and blocked Bucky's attack before pushing him away but Bucky didn't give up so fast and tried to tackle him to the ground. Just as he and Rumlow hit the floor, a small bottle fell out of Rumlow's pocket. Immediately Bucky recognized the tincture and pushed Rumlow off him who had rolled over and pushed him to the ground. Quickly Bucky tried to grab it but Rumlow had come just in time and snatched it away.

Just as he stood up again and held the bottle in his hand, Bucky kicked him in the back so he fell forward and the foil fell to the ground, shattering. A bright smoke started to rise from the inside.

(Y/N)'s eyes, which had shone in a bright green the whole time, regained their normal color as the fog slowly lifted in her mind. Still a bit confused, (Y/N) looked at Bucky who was standing a few feet away from her.

“James...“ she breathed as he smiled back at her “(Y/N)...finally“

Quickly the princess got up on her feet again and ran into his outstretched arms. With ease Bucky caught her in his arms and looked down as tears gathered in her eyes. Softly he stroke her cheek.

“It's you. I knew it. What happened to you? How can that be?“

Bucky smiled at her with glassy eyes and bent down to kiss her as the sky darkened and he felt a stabbing pain in his legs. He sank to his knees and clenched his hands. The sun had set.

“James, what's going on? What are you-“ (Y/N) sank to her knees and stroke his cheek as she soon realized that a fishtail had taken the place of his legs. Her eyes widened as she looked at him “You are a-“

“Merman, yes. Touching, isn't it? After he saved you after your ship sank, he fell in love with you and wanted to see you again. But his time is up“ Rumlow said with a triumphant smile on his lips.

Furiously Bucky looked up at him as Rumlow turned back to his original form. His strong upper body had remained, but instead of his legs there were now huge tentacles, one of them now wrapped around Bucky's body. (Y/N) screamed in horror as Rumlow with Bucky in his grip lifted himself over the railing and jumped back into the water.

Without wasting any more time, (Y/N) tore off her wedding dress as best as she could before she was left with her corsage and a thin petticoat. Just as she climbed on the railing, Tony grabbed her hand and looked up at her with a horrified look “What do you think you're doing?“

“I lost him once. I'm not gonna lose him again“ (Y/N) replied with a determined look on her face before she freed herself from his grip and jumped into the water with one leap.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile Rumlow moved further and further down into the depths of the sea with Bucky still in his tight grip towards his secret hideout. He glanced over his shoulder to Bucky who desperately tried to free himself from the Kraken's grip but there was no use.

“Don't worry. You'll like it. The other will be happy to have a new companion.“ He laughed with satisfaction when suddenly a sharp trident was pressed under his chin and he paused. Bucky's father had found them. The king of the sea, Triton.

“Let him go, now!“ ordered with a firm voice and held his trident firmly in his grip as Rumlow could only smiled about it “Unfortunately, I can't do that. Since your dear naive son has signed a contract, he is mine now. He it is if you want to take a look.“

With a flick of his wrist, the contract appeared in front of Triton's face. Bucky's signature glowing brightly in the low light at the bottom of the paper.

“Father, I'm sorry. It was my fa-“ Bucky tried to apologize as another tentacle wrapped itself around his mouth so he couldn't get another word out. Brock raised an eyebrow and swam past Triton “It's really sad, isn't it? You should teach your kids how to read the fine print. Too bad, really, too bad“

“What do you want in exchange for his life?“ Triton replied without hesitation although he could already imagine what his answer would be. Smiling, Rumlow turned back to the king and looked at him “Now we speak the same language, my friend. You just have to sign here and everything that belongs to you – your power, soul and throne – will be transferred to me so your son can live his life again without any worries in his little mind“

“No, father, you can't do that!“ Bucky exclaimed as he freed himself from one of the tentacles. But not a second later, Rumlow snapped his fingers and in the next moment a whirlpool formed around Bucky which made him wither more and more.

“Do we have a deal?“ Rumlow turned his gaze back to the king who had his eyes on Bucky who became weaker and weaker as he slowly sank to the ground. Triton let his shoulders drop before he put his signature on the contract and thus sealed his fate. Immediately the vortex around Bucky ventilated and piled up around Triton. Only a few seconds later the former king was nothing more than a little morbid creature who looked up at them.

“Father, no...“ Bucky swam over to him and looked at him in horror as Rumlow grabbed the king's crown and trident. Triumphantly, he held the trident up and the sea became more and more restless “At last, after all this tim- AH!“

A harpoon had just missed him and had left a deep wound at his side. With a furious gaze, he looked up as he could see (Y/N) just below the water surface.

Horrified Bucky followed Rumlow's gaze who already pointed his trident at the princess as she tried to swim back to the surface. Hastily Bucky swam towards the Kraken and rammed him to the side so that he missed (Y/N) and dropped the trident. Without thinking, Bucky quickly swam up to the surface where (Y/N) just gasped for air again and screamed briefly when Bucky appeared next to her.

“What are you doing here? You have to leave before he can hurt you too“ Bucky pulled her into his arms as she held on to him and wrapped her arms around his neck as her strength slowly waned “No, I won't leave you alone“

But before Bucky could even give her a touched smile, they noticed how the ground beneath them and the sea began to tremble as Rumlow suddenly rose from the depths of the sea, but much bigger than he actually was.

Frightened the couple looked up at the giant who stood up in front of them as the sky darkened even further and flashes of lighting lit up the black clouds. Rumlow glared angrily at them as he held the trident in his had and pointed at them “You fools, did you really think you were getting the happy ending you deserve?! Not if I have a say in this!“

The waves around them piled up and the sky shot lightning down on them. A violent blow of one of Rumlow's huge tentacles tore the two apart and let (Y/N) fly through the air. She screamed in panic as she landed with hard splash a few yards away from Bucky. But before Bucky could even begin to swim back to her, he was pulled back by an invisible force into a giant vortex that carried him to the bottom of the sea.

Enraged, Rumlow piled up over the opening of the vortex and focused his trident on Bucky befoer shooting multiple lightning bolts at him, missing him again and again as Bucky jumped out of the way as best he could.

What Rumlow didn't notice during this time, however, were the ship parts and wrecks that were carried back to the surface by the strong whirlpool. (Y/N) who was still struggling to stay on the surface, quickly gasped for air as one of the wrecks came towards her and pulled her back under. While floating underneath the ship's hulk, she caught one of the ropes which were still attached to the ship. With the little strength she had left she pulled herself aboard. Coughing she let herself fall onto the deck and straightened up as she could see Rumlow firing his trident at something over and over again.

Panting, (Y/N) stood up on wobbly legs and ran up the stairs to the rudder. Shortly before she could reach it, a big wave hit the shipwreck and tore her off to the side. Exhausted the princess crawled to the rudder and pulled herself back on her feet before steering it as good as she could towards the giant.

„You'll lose everything, little prince! Everything!“ Rumlow laughed out loud as he tried to blast a giant lightning bolt on James as a stabbing pain pulled through his back. The tip of the bowsprit had pushed through his torso. Rumlow's eyes widened as he dropped the trident before he slowly disappeared into the depths of the sea, pulling the wreck with him. Shortly before he disappeared completely, (Y/N) jumped off board.

With the last strength she had left (Y/N) swam back to the shore and fell unconscious as she reached the beach while the waves slowly laid down and the sky cleared up.

At the same time Bucky took one last look at Rumlow before he swam back to the seabed he had left his father behind. Worried, he looked around when he discovered him. He was the same merman as before. Relieved Bucky swam to him as Triton noticed his son.

“Father, I'm sorry. Everything I've done. I never would have let him do this to you but still...because of this I met (Y/N). She is- I love her and she's not like the hum-“ Bucky paused as his father raised his hand to silence him. The young prince held his breath but what he had expected did not come. The king lowered his trident to the ground and wrapped his arms around his son. He squeezed him briefly and closed his eyes “I'm really proud of you, James. You were unreasonable, but you did the right thing and saved our people from a bad fate. And if you love her then...that's the way it is.“

When they separated, James smiled at him with relief “Thank you, father“ before he looked at him a little horrified “(Y/N), we were separated. I have to find her.“

Triton looked after his son as he quickly swam back to the surface and worriedly looked around for (Y/N).  Maybe she was still floating on one of the old ship parts that were now distributed aroud him.

“(Y/N)!“ he called out for her and looked around as he discovered her silhouette on the beach. With a few strong swim strokes, he swam to the shore and hunched himself on the rocks that rack out of the water near the beach. He watched as she lay on her back and took a deep breath again and again. She seemed fine.

But now...Bucky couldn't just go up to her anymore. Now that he was a merman again, he had no chance to live with her, for they came from two different worlds.

A little further away the king watched his son who watched the princess attentively but with a sad look on his features. He had never thought well of humans. After all he had learned from them over the years, it was impossible for him that she could have something like feelings, but this woman had feelings for his son.

“What will you do now, your Majesty?“ asked a voice next to him. The king looked aside and discovered Steve, his son's best friend, as well as some of his children watching their brother from afar. Rebecca swam up to them and looked up at her father “He really loves her, father. Who else would have given up all this for a human?“

Sighning the king looked at his daughter before he looked back at his son, who was still watching over his beloved, lying in the wet sand. He looked back at his trident “Then there's probably only one problem left.“

“Which one?“ Wanda and Natasha, Bucky's older sister, asked at the same time, looking at their father as he looked back at James “I'll miss him very much“

The trident in his hand began to glow as the king pointed it at his son. At first Bucky did not even recognized how his tail started shimmer in the moonlight but then suddenly his gaze went from (Y/N) to his...legs. Astonished he looked up and saw his father, who gave him a warm smile and nodded to him. He was wearing the same clothes he had on before but now they were clean and dry.

Slowly he stood up and gave his family one last look. His brothers and sisters waved back at him as he blew them a kiss. Wanda und Rebecca even wept some tears of joy as their brother climbed over the rocks to the shore and ran over to (Y/N)'s unconscious body.

Tears were streaming down his face as he let himself sink into the sand next to her and softly stroked her cheek as she slowly started to wake up again. Blinking, the princess opened her eyes as Bucky smiled down at her “Hello beautiful...“

“James...you're here, you're okay.“ an exhausted smile grazed her features while Bucky stroked a few wet strands from her face and pulled her into his lap.

„Now that I see you I'm feeling way better than okay. You made it, (Y/N). You defeated him, doll.“ Bucky held her close in his strong arms as (Y/N) laid her hand on his cheek “Will you stay with me now?“

“Forever“ Bucky gave her a wink and laid his hand on hers before he slowly bent down to kiss her gently on the lips.

Now we can walk Now we can run Now we can stay all day in the sun Just you and me And I can be Part of your world

The End.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved to write it for you!

Please reblog and give me some feedback! Lot’s of love, Ava xoxo!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

i hear the river say your name, part I

anonymous prompt: I just want a new smutty Jamie POV of him having a dirty dream about Claire before they married. It can take place at Leoch, maybe after his oath or something. Have his interactions with her the next day be super awkward, but charming. 😆 I live for this.

I am living for this prompt, anon. I like smitten puppy!Jamie.

show!verse, Episode 01x04 (The Gathering), 01x05 (Rent)

At least one more installment is yet to come of this one.

Rated: T, this part

Soundtrack: ➥ Lord Huron - When the Night is Over

i hear the river say your name, part I

Jamie Fraser has been in hiding for awhile.

Away from his family – though he supposes the only Fraser he has left is Jenny. And the Lord knows he can’t ever face her again. He’s been away from home for awhile now – first to France, then to Castle Leoch. How long it’s been, he’s not sure. Though they don’t comprise the most upstanding cast of characters, Colum and Dougal could be worse, and the machinations of life at Leoch are, to say the very least, interesting:

One, a boy who calls Letitia “mam” and calls Colum “da,” but looks like Dougal, provides a source of suspense he hasn’t known since he saw King Lear acted on stage as a lad by a traveling theatre troupe.

Two, the obvious pandering of Dougal to Arthur Duncan’s witchy blonde wife, made him laugh into a mug of ale two nights earlier. Geillis Duncan’s figure is decidedly less and less waif like with each passing week, and her bones are so obviously shifting to accommodate Dougal’s bairn that Jamie wonders if he’s the only one with eyes, ears, and common sense.

These observations aside, though, Jamie’s heart is not split.

He does not share love for Castle Leoch with his home.

For now at least, his heart lives in one place alone.

Lallybroch.

A place he hardly lets into his subconscious for the ache the distance causes him.

But now he’s hiding again – hiding within his hiding place.

The Gathering thrums along at some distance, the smell of roasting meat making his stomach ache with hunger and his mouth water, and causing the prospect of her (in some borrowed gown with her bonnie pearlescent breasts hitched up to kingdom come) to flit stomp carelessly through his mind while engaged in other more survival-oriented pursuits.

Mistress Beauchamp.

He’s in a pile of straw and probably smells of horses.

Of course that’s when he thinks of her.

He’s half asleep and half hard at the thought of her – changing his bandages with too-soft hands and nail beds as pink as petals, asking him about his back without pity, looking at him like maybe-just-maybe her lips would part and she would arch into him if he kissed her.

The sounds of the Gathering have blended and merged with the assistance of a few drams, his subconscious is urging him to just stay put. He decides not to do anything about his cockstand, figures that it’s easier if he just lets it ache and ache until he falls asleep, waking with the Sassenach far from his mind.

And that’s when the mysterious healer who has driven him absolutely mad with wanting trips over him.

Literally trips.

Of course, he doesn’t know it’s her right away – the source of that uncomfortable swelling tenting his kilt, the ringleader in his mind’s afternoon distractions. It is his protective instinct to draw his blade, to rise up over the unsuspecting, fallen target, adrenaline making his fighting spirit soar, and suddenly he’s invincible. It isn’t until the interloper makes some exclamation (“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”) that he realizes it’s her that is about to be speared by the sharp tip of his dirk.

He can’t help his smile (“no, Sassenach, just me” – though she makes him feel like God himself).

She looks so damned pretty in the dress Mrs. Fitz has found for her.

Her cheeks pink, her mouth letting out little frustrated pants, her breasts heaving as her own adrenaline surge blows her pupils to kingdom come.

Aye, she’s a pretty lass all dressed for the MacKenzie Gathering.

Even if she is about to flee.

Oh, he realizes, the Sassenach’s going to flee.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, to adopt her turn of phrase.

As a prisoner in his own identity and living under an assumed name, he can’t say he hasn’t thought of fleeing himself once or twice. By the venom in her eyes alone, he knows she’s a scrapper alright. He is holding his dirk steady still, still poised to strike.

And as the adrenaline fades, he shakes his head, smirks. He sheathes his dirk, gets to his feet, and helps her do the same. He teases her a little – her satchel of apples and already-hardened bread – his condensation-laden breath coming in pants.

“How far do ye think ye’d get, lass, on a dark night wi’ a strange horse, and half the MacKenzie clan after ye by morning?” he asks, not expecting an answer.

She’s thought it through – the logical wee thing she is. Where she will go, how she will get there. He was walking and found a scrap of cloth, and he suddenly realizes her game. She’s planned.

Ban-druidh, he wonders, the superstitious Highlander that lives in his gut teases for a moment before he consciously, decisively shuts down the notion. No. Not a witch. She is a woman. A smart, cunning woman, ready to survive.

And a dhia, she looks positively enraged that he has foiled her plan to flee.

Later, as he is waltzing through a conciliatory speech without swearing an oath to Colum MacKenzie, he wonders about her.

He wonders if she’s watching.

***

Claire had left Leoch with them, getting further and further from the echoing stone chamber she called a “clinic” one evening as she checked his wound one last time. They have been sent away by the MacKenzie to collect rent. He can’t help but think that her scheme to flee is somehow both more within reach and further away from ever now that they’re on the road.

He watches her – she’s standing at the edge of a loch, separate from everyone, her thin arms crossed over her waist. While Geillis is growing with Dougal’s bairn, Claire is shrinking with Dougal’s oppression.

Before the rent collectors departed Castle Leoch, Dougal had boasted about how he told that Sassenach bitch, that redcoat spy, a feral cat was coming along. Dougal gave the old lawyer a look, and explained that no, he didn’t tell Claire Beauchamp anything, lads. Dougal finished a tankard of ale, wiped the foam from his beard on his sleeve, boasted that he commanded her to come along. Claimed that he’d have her English thighs spread and his cock roosting before they returned with a handsome tithing from the MacKenzie lands. Jamie had risen to his feet, fists pulsing at his side, aching to splinter bone and make his uncle’s nose collapse with a nasty, crunching sound.

Oh.

For more than a moment Jamie entertained punching Dougal – making his adulterous uncle spray blood and spittle spectacularly across the walls of the hall where they were eating a final meal before departing, watching his mother’s brother drop like a stone, where a boot could easily make home in the softening gut of his aging uncle and close in on a throat.

Then Jamie had realized that such violence was no way to protect her.

To protect Claire.

To protect my own, his heart hammering at his own reference to her.

Jamie paused his shaking fists, shook his head, decided to take Dougal’s challenging look on the chin, to let the man think that he’d bested his stupid nephew. Jamie knew better.

“Do ye see that lads? Jamie fancies the traitor bitch.” Jamie sat, clasping his hands beneath the table not in prayer, but in an attempt to keep the violent fantasy from becoming a reality. He stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. Sit, pheathar. Ye stinking jealous fool. Ye’ll find somewhere for yer cock to roost for yerself.”

Now, out here on the road, they are at a quiet gathering. Not the kind that they’ve just left. Not one to swear fealty to a laird, unless of course one is to consider the pillaging of each resident of their entire livelihood and savings.

Dougal chants it first: “Bragh Stuart!”

Jamie’s eyes catch Claire’s as he fights to pull his shirt on over his head.

There is no mystery left in what is happening. She is a smart woman, the realization crosses her face slowly, like she can’t quite believe it at first. That they’re betraying Colum MacKenzie, that the gold they’re collecting will fund rebellion, that they’re engaged in something traitorous against their Laird and the crown. She steps out of the too-warm, too-smoky shed, hair falling across her cheek and her small fist knotted in the cloak around her shoulders.

Jamie wonders what she’s thinking.

If she would just face him, he could tell, but she doesn’t turn around.

[dfroza]

“Let me remind you, brothers and sisters…”

[seeds]

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 15th chapter of the letter of 1st Corinthians:

Let me remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I preached to you when we first met. It’s the essential message that you have taken to heart, the central story you now base your life on; and through this gospel, you are liberated—unless, of course, your faith has come to nothing. For I passed down to you the crux of it all which I had also received from others, that the Anointed One, the Liberating King, died for our sins and was buried and raised from the dead on the third day. All this happened to fulfill the Scriptures; it was the perfect climax to God’s covenant story. Afterward He appeared alive to Cephas (you may know him as Simon Peter), then to the rest of the twelve. If that were not amazing enough, on one occasion, He appeared to more than 500 believers at one time. Many of those brothers and sisters are still around to tell the story, though some have fallen asleep in Jesus. Soon He appeared to James, His brother and the leader of the Jerusalem church, and then to all the rest of the emissaries He Himself commissioned. Last of all, He appeared to me; I was like a child snatched from his mother’s womb. You see, I am the least of all His emissaries, not fit to be called His emissary because I hunted down and persecuted God’s church. Today I am who I am because of God’s grace, and I have made sure that the grace He offered me has not been wasted. I have worked harder, longer, and smarter than all the rest; but I realize it is not me—it is God’s grace with me that has made the difference. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether it was I or the other witnesses who brought you the message. What matters is that we keep preaching and that you have faith in this message.

Now if we have told you about the Anointed One (how He has risen from the dead and appeared to us fully alive), then how can you stand there and say there is no such thing as resurrection from death? Friends, if there is no resurrection of the dead, then even the Anointed hasn’t been raised; if that is so, then all our preaching has been for nothing and your faith in the message is worthless. And what’s worse, all of us who have been preaching the gospel are now guilty of misrepresenting God because we have been spreading the news that He raised the Anointed One from the dead (which must be a lie if what you are saying about the dead not being raised is the truth). Please listen. If you say, “the dead are not raised,” then what you are telling me is that the Anointed One has not been raised. Friends, if the Anointed has not been raised from the dead, then your faith is worth less than yesterday’s garbage, you are all doomed in your sins, and all the dearly departed who trusted in His liberation are left decaying in the ground. If what we have hoped for in the Anointed doesn’t take us beyond this life, then we are world-class fools, deserving everyone’s pity.

But the Anointed One was raised from death’s slumber and is the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep in death. For since death entered this world by a man, it took another man to make the resurrection of the dead our new reality. Look at it this way: through Adam all of us die, but through the Anointed One all of us can live again. But this is how it will happen: the Anointed’s awakening is the firstfruits. It will be followed by the resurrection of all those who belong to Him at His coming, and then the end will come. After He has conquered His enemies and shut down every rule and authority vying for power, He will hand over the Kingdom to God, the Father of all that is. And He must reign as King until He has put all His enemies under His feet. The last hostile power to be destroyed is death itself. All this will happen to fulfill the Scripture that says, “You placed everything on earth beneath His feet.” (Although it says “everything,” it is clear that this does not also pertain to God, who created everything and made it all subject to Him.) Then, when all creation has taken its rightful place beneath God’s sovereign reign, the Son will follow, subject to the Father who exalted Him over all created things; then God will be God over all.

You have probably heard that some people are undergoing ritual cleansings of baptism for the dead. Why are they doing that? If the dead are not going to be raised, then why are people being baptized for them? Why are we putting our lives on the line all the time if there’s no resurrection? I die every day! I swear that it’s true! That’s something you take pride in, brothers and sisters, as I do in Jesus the Anointed, our Lord. But if I have fought against the wild beasts in Ephesus for some human cause, then what good has that done me? If the dead are not raised, then there’s nothing more to do than—as the saying goes—eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.

But don’t be so naïve—there’s another saying you know well—Bad company corrupts good habits. Come to your senses, live justly, and stop sinning. It’s true that some have no knowledge of God. I am saying this to shame you into better habits.

Now I know what some of you are thinking: “Just how are the dead going to be raised? What kind of bodies will they have when they come back to life?” Don’t be a fool! The seed you plant doesn’t produce life unless it dies. Right? The seed doesn’t have the same look, the same body, if you will, of what it will have once it starts to grow. It starts out a single, naked seed—whether wheat or some other grain, it doesn’t matter— and God gives to that seed a body just as He has desired. For each of the different kinds of seeds God prepares a unique body. Or look at it this way: not all flesh is the same. Right? There is skin flesh on humans, furry flesh on animals, feathery flesh on birds, and scaly flesh on fish. Likewise there are bodies made for the heavens and bodies made for the earth. The heavenly bodies have a different kind of glory or luminescence compared to bodies below. Even among the heavenly bodies, there is a different level of brilliance: the sun shines differently than the moon, the moon differently than the stars, and the stars themselves differ in their brightness.

It’s like this with the resurrection of those who have died. The body planted in the earth decays. But the body raised from the earth cannot decay. The body is planted in disgrace and weakness. But the body is raised in splendor and power. The body planted in the earth was animated by the physical, material realm. But the body raised from the earth will be animated by the spiritual. Since there is a physical, material body, there will also be a spiritual body. That’s why it was written, “The first man Adam became a living soul”; the last Adam has become a life-giving spirit. Everything has an order. The body is not animated first by the spiritual but the physical; then the spiritual becomes its life-giving source. The first man, Adam, came from the earth and was made from dust; the second man, Jesus, has come from heaven. The earth man shares his earth nature with all those made of earth; likewise the heavenly man shares His heavenly nature with all those made of heaven. Just as we have carried the image of the earth man in our bodies, we will also carry the image of the heavenly man in our new bodies at the resurrection.

Now listen to this: brothers and sisters, this present body is not able to inherit the kingdom of God any more than decay can inherit that which lasts forever. Stay close because I am going to tell you a mystery—something you may have trouble understanding: we will not all fall asleep in death, but we will all be transformed. It will all happen so fast, in a blink, a mere flutter of the eye. The last trumpet will call, and the dead will be raised from their graves with a body that does not, cannot decay. All of us will be changed! We’ll step out of our mortal clothes and slide into immortal bodies, replacing everything that is subject to death with eternal life. And, when we are all redressed with bodies that do not, cannot decay, when we put immortality over our mortal frames, then it will be as Scripture says:

Life everlasting has victoriously swallowed death.

Hey, Death! What happened to your big win?

Hey, Death! What happened to your sting?

Sin came into this world, and death’s sting followed. Then sin took aim at the law and gained power over those who follow the law. Thank God, then, for our Lord Jesus, the Anointed, the Liberating King, who brought us victory over the grave.

My dear brothers and sisters, stay firmly planted—be unshakable—do many good works in the name of God, and know that all your labor is not for nothing when it is for God.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

Resurrection is central to the gospel. In fact, without the bodily resurrection of Jesus there is no good news at all. For in Jesus, God personifies His redeeming work and demonstrates the scope of that redemption. He is a God who brings life from death, peace from war, prosperity from adversity, and bounty from famine. The resurrection of Jesus marks a new era of God’s dealing with the world. He intends nothing less than the total reclamation of His good creation damaged by human folly, sin, and death.

Redemption is not merely forgiveness of sin’s guilt so our souls can go to heaven someday. Our true hope is to be free from physical death just as Jesus was raised from the dead. Accordingly, this hope of bodily resurrection stands against the expectation that souls escape from their mortal bodies (as if your soul is the real “you” and your body is a disposable external space suit) and merely float up to heaven. Rather, Paul presents resurrection as a new creation; and this restored bodily existence affirms and fulfills the original intent of creation. Believers don’t have to wait until the future to experience this Spirit-enabled life because living in obedience to God through the Spirit is a foretaste of the total experience that will come when all is restored later.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 16th chapter of the book of Jeremiah:

The word of the Eternal came to me.

Eternal One: Jeremiah, you must not get married and have children in this place, because this is what I, the Eternal One, say about the sons and daughters of this land and about their mothers and fathers: They will die of deadly diseases. There will be so many dead that no one will bury them or grieve for them; they will be like dung scattered on the ground. Others will perish from war and famine, and their corpses will feed the vultures and wild beasts of the earth.

This is what I declare to you, My prophet: Do not go inside a house that is mourning. Do not grieve with these friends and families. Do not comfort them because I, the Eternal One, have taken My peace, even My loyal love and mercy, from them. Death will come to the great and small of this land, but they will not be buried or mourned. There will be no one left to cut themselves or shave their heads in ritual displays of mourning. No one will bring food to comfort those in mourning or offer a drink to console even one who has lost a parent. You are not to enter a house where they are feasting and celebrating. Refuse to eat and drink with them. For this is what the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies and God of Israel, now declares: Before your eyes and during your lifetime, I will silence the sounds of laughter and joy in this place; the joy of a wedding will no longer be heard.

When you tell these people all of this, they will ask you, “Why has the Eternal decided to bring this horrendous evil on us? What have we done wrong? What sin have we committed against the Eternal our God?” I want you to answer them with My words: All this is because your ancestors deserted Me and followed after other gods. They served and worshiped them, but Me they have deserted. My instruction they have ignored. As for you, you are even worse than your ancestors because every one of your hearts is evil and stubborn, and you continue to ignore Me as you follow your own wicked ways. For this reason, I will throw you out of this land into a land you and your ancestors have never known. There you will be able to serve these other gods all you want—day and night—for I will show you no compassion.

(to the people) Look, days are coming when people will remember how I restored you. They will no longer say, “As the Eternal lives who brought the people of Israel out of the land of Egypt.” Instead, they will say, “As the Eternal lives, who brought the people of Israel out of the lands of the north and the countries where He had exiled them.” For I will bring them back to their promised land, the land I gave to your ancestors.

But first, I will send for many fishermen who will catch them. After this, I will summon many hunters, and they will hunt them down on every mountain and every hill, in every crack and crevice of this land. My eyes are fixed on all they are doing. Nothing is hidden from Me; their sins are exposed before My eyes. For their wickedness and sin—polluting My land with the lifeless husks of their disgusting idols, taking what is Mine and filling it with these abominable things—I will repay them doubly.

Jeremiah: O Eternal One, You are my strength,

my fortress, my sanctuary in times of trouble.

The day will come when the nations will come from all over the world and admit,

“Our ancestors were fools! They inherited and clung to empty lies,

Worthless gods that gained them nothing good.

Can people make their own gods?

No, because a man-made idol is not a god.”

Eternal One: Behold, I will teach these people.

This time, they will learn of My power and strength.

I will teach them, and they will know and fully understand that I am the Eternal.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 16 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

The loneliness Jeremiah has already endured is indeed painful. Surely he wants just one companion in whom he can confide; even that would be something. If only he could find solace in a loving spouse! Certainly society is composed of husbands and wives; even the worst people have families, while Jeremiah is alone. It now becomes clear that this isolation is his life’s calling. He is banned not only from starting his own family, but from being with others. He cannot enter into the sorrow of his people’s grief or enjoy any celebration in the community. To abstain from both the sorrow and joy of those around him ensures Jeremiah’s isolation. But it also raises important questions with painful answers. As always, God anticipates these questions.

This horrible vision of judgment is tempered with words of God’s gracious restoration. Though the sentence against faithless Judah is harsh, it will not be the end of her.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, September 16 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about Adam’s dream:

In Jewish thinking, Rosh Hashanah commemorates the creation of Adam and Eve, and therefore it may be regarded as their "birthday" of sorts. However, on the soon after Adam and Eve were created, they disobeyed God and were sent into exile from the orchard, and therefore Rosh Hashanah commemorates humanity's rebellion against God as well... As such, this holiday has an inherent ambivalence about it. On the one hand we rejoice over the gift of life and acknowledge God as our Creator and King (the sound of the shofar is intended to remember the coronation of God as our King), while on the other hand we tremble over God as our holy and righteous Judge. Consequently, in Jewish tradition Rosh Hashanah is associated with the Day of Judgment (יוֹם הַדִּין) when God decrees who will be “written in the Book of Life (סֵפֶר הַחַיִּים)” for another year of life. According to the sages, we can “affect” the divine decree by turning to God (i.e., teshuvah: תְּשׁוּבָה), by honestly accounting for our actions (i.e., cheshbon ha-nefesh: חֶשְׁבּוֹן הַנֶּפֶשׁ), and performing acts that demonstrate penitence (such as making amends to others and giving charity). The notion that we can merit God’s favor during this time is clearly expressed by Abraham Heschel, who wrote, "No word is God's final word. Judgment, far from being absolute, is conditional. A change in man's conduct brings about a change in God's judgment" (The Prophets, 194).

The Scriptures clearly state that “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb. 9:27), and they further warn that on the Day of Judgment, anyone's name not written “in the Book of Life of the Lamb who was slain” (בְּסֵפֶר חַיֵּי הַשֶּׂה הַטָּבוּחַ) will be thrown into the lake of fire (Rev. 13:8, 20:15). Indeed, Yeshua Himself is the none other than the Judge of mankind to whom every knee shall one day bow (Isa. 45:22-23; Rom. 14:11; Phil. 2:10). Yeshua is the Judge of all the earth (John 5:22; 12:48; Acts 10:42, 17:31; 2 Thess. 1:7-10; Rev. 20:11-15), including the judge of all those who profess to obey Him (Rom. 14:12; 2 Cor. 5:10; 2 Tim. 4:1; Matt. 7:22-23). As Messianic believers, we maintain that our personal “Judgment Day” has come and justice has been served through the sacrificial offering of Yeshua for our sins (2 Cor. 5:21). He is the perfect fulfillment of the Akedah of Isaac, and the sound of the shofar recalls the sacrifice of the promised seed. However, even though we believe that we are made acceptable in God’s sight solely by the finished work of the Messiah (Titus 3:5-6), we understand that we will one day face our own personal judgment. Even in the glorious light of the cross, we all must give account for our lives (2 Cor. 5:10): “Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; the fire will test (δοκιμάζω) what kind of work each has done” (1 Cor. 3:13). Yeshua is the Judge of all people, both for those who are trusting in Him and for those who spurn his salvation.

Let’s return to the “birthday” of Adam and Eve and consider it in light of the birthday of Yeshua, that is, his advent as the “Son of Man,” our "Second Adam," and the Savior of the world. Adam was a pattern of the king to come (Rom. 5:14). The Apostle Paul presents him as “the first man,” adam ha-rishon (אָדָם הָרִאשׁוֹן), while he calls Yeshua “the second man,” or adam ha-sheni (הָאָדָם הַשֵּׁנִי). Adam is regarded as “first” in the sense of temporality and legal succession as God’s vice-regent for the physical order, whereas Yeshua is regarded as “second” in the sense of being the climactic expression of God’s redemption of that lost regency in the advent and victory of the Messiah.

Adam was created by a direct act of God -- not by any kind of "reincarnation," as it says, "Then the LORD God formed (יֵצֶר) the man of dust from the ground and breathed (נָפַח) into his nostrils the breath of life (i.e., nishmat chayim: נִשְׁמַת חַיִּים), and the man became a living soul (i.e., nefesh chayah: נֶפֶשׁ חַיָּה)." The word yetzer ("formed") refers to something shaped, like pottery fashioned by the hand of a potter. Just as a potter purposes a shape before forming an object, so God consciously intended the image of man. Regarding the impartation of the soul, the sages use the analogy of a glassblower who creates a glass vessel. Just as a glassblower blows into a tube to form a vessel from molten glass, so the "breath of God" (i.e., neshamah: נְשָׁמָה) becomes spirit (i.e. ruach: רוּחַ) to form the human soul (i.e., nefesh: נֶפֶשׁ). The Targum states that God breathed into Adam the ability to think and to speak. In other words, thought and speech are two primary characteristics of the image (tzelem) and likeness (demut) of God. The very first creative act of God, then, was to impart the divine "image" to mankind, which primarily involved giving people the ability to experience God’s awesome transcendence, to reason, to use language, etc.

Adam was made "like" God, but his soul was created, that is, it was not eternal or preexisting. Only Yeshua is the "Word made flesh," the "image of the invisible God," and the "radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint (χαρακτήρ, 'character') of his nature" (Col. 1:15). All of creation is being constantly upheld by the word of His power (Heb. 1:3): "All things were created by Him (i.e., Yeshua), and for Him" and in Him all things consist (συνεστηκεν, lit. "stick together") (Col. 1:16-17). The miracle of the incarnation - the Absolute Paradox - is that the Creator Himself "emptied himself" by freely choosing to be clothed “in the likeness of sinful flesh” to become a sacrificial offering for our sin so that the righteousness of God could be fulfilled in us (Rom. 8:3-4). It is for this reason that the Word of God became flesh and “tabernacled” with us (Isa. 45:22-23; Phil. 2:6-7; John 1:1,14).

Both Adam, the first man of the earth, and Yeshua, the second man of heaven, were “sons of God,” born sinless and in unhindered communion with God, and both were subsequently tested by God (Gen. 2:16-17; Matt. 4:1; Heb. 4:15). The first man failed the test, however, which led to the fatal disease of sin infecting his progeny (Rom. 3:23; 5:12-ff), whereas the second man passed the test which led to eternal healing and life to his progeny (1 Cor. 15:21-23; Rev. 2:7). Yeshua is called the "second man" in the sense that he was God's beginning for a recreated humanity, and through him humanity would be restored to the paradise of God. “The life was in Him, just as it was originally in the first Adam (John 5:26). Yeshua is called the "Son of Man" (בֶּן־הָאָדָם), the new High Priest of humanity, who comes “with the clouds of heaven” to offer up his life for our reconciliation with God (Isa. 53:5; 1 Pet. 3:18; Heb 2:9). Yeshua's sacrificial death destroyed the power of death and undid the curse that befell fallen human nature (Rev. 22:3). Just as Adam is the "federal head" of the (fallen) human race, so Yeshua is the "federal head" of a new creation of redeemed humanity (Eph. 5:23). Through Adam comes the transmission of physical human life (i.e., the "Adamic nature"), whereas through Yeshua comes the transmission of eternal life (i.e., the "new nature" given through divine inheritance). Yeshua is the "first fruits" from the dead - a new "type" of resurrected human life that is restored to heaven’s fellowship. Adam was given dominion over creation (Gen. 1:26), whereas Yeshua is Adon ha-kol (אֲדוֹן הַכּל), the LORD over all (Acts 10:36).

If the title "Son of man" (בֶּן־הָאָדָם) reveals the continuity of humanity in Yeshua with the humanity represented by Adam, it also reveals the new step that humanity has gained in the victory mediated to us in the “Man, Yeshua the Messiah” (1 Tim. 2:5). The incarnation of Yeshua was intended to lift us up from the old, Adamic nature, to be partakers of the divine nature, and therefore Yeshua is called “the firstborn (הַבְּכוֹר) among many brethren” (Rom. 8:29). Yeshua is not only called the "Second Man," the founder and head of a new race, but also “the Last Adam” (i.e., adam ha-acharon: אָדָם הָאַחֲרוֹן) because there is no other man to succeed Him, and His victory is entirely sufficient for our everlasting deliverance.

Thus it is written, "The first man Adam became a living being"; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. But it is not the spiritual that is first but the natural, and then the spiritual. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven (1 Cor. 15:45-49). "For as in Adam all die, so also in Messiah shall all be made alive" (1 Cor. 15:22). The "new seed" of life given to us in Yeshua makes us into a "new creation" (בְּרִיאָה חֲדָשָׁה) that fully restores the defaced image of God within us (2 Cor. 5:17). We are “more than conquerors” (ὑπερνικῶμεν, lit. “hyper conquerors) through Him that loved us (Rom. 8:37).

Just as God produced a bride from the wound he made in the sleeping Adam (Gen. 2:22), so a spiritual bride was produced when Yeshua suffered the “sleep of death” for everyone upon the cross, as evidenced by his pierced side after his death (John 19:34). Just as Adam's dream was fulfilled in Eve, so Yeshua's is fulfilled in the "bride of Messiah," his called-out assembly that follow him (Eph. 5:27). Human beings by nature are all connected with the first Adam as the "legal head" of the human race and are thereby subject to the sentence of death that was pronounced on him; however, all who are connected with the Second Adam are given the free gift of God's righteousness, and "have passed from death to life" (Col. 1:14; Rom. 5:17; 1 John 3:14).

It is customary to partake of a new food item, usually a new fruit, during the Rosh Hashanah Seder, which symbolically can represent for us the first fruits of Yeshua and our new creation in Him. For example, when we say, "May it be your will, LORD our God and God of our fathers, that our merits be numerous as the seeds of a pomegranate," may we understand this to be in reference to the fruitfulness we now have in the new life our Messiah gives....

A lot more could be said on this subject, of course, but this will have to suffice for now. Just as God opened Adam’s eyes on the very first Rosh Hashanah, so our eyes will be opened when we are called up to obtain our inheritance in the Messiah during the time of the rapture (1 Thess. 4:16-17). This is the great teruah and sound of the shofar to come (1 Cor. 15:51-53). Meanwhile, "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Yeshua the Messiah be with you" (Rom. 16:20).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Isaiah 45:22-23 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa45-22-jjp.mp3

Isaiah 45:22-23 page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/isa45-22-lesson.pdf

9.14.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

Liberty is a beautiful concept, but it comes with its share of responsibilities. Being free means shouldering the weight of responsibility, embracing agency, and being held accountable. At times, these burdens may seem heavy, but in the long run, they infuse our lives with meaning. They empower us to take ownership of our lives, celebrate our achievements, and inspire others.

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

September 16, 2023

Three Worldly Powers

“For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.” (1 John 2:16)

This well-known passage identifies three fountainheads of ungodly power that will, if unchecked and unguarded, ensnare a believer into a sinful lifestyle.

Sensual power (lust of the flesh) is a body-oriented and emotion-driven reaction to fleshly appetites that can never please God (Romans 8:8) and is in constant warfare with the Spirit of God (Galatians 5:17). We are told to “flee” these “youthful lusts” (2 Timothy 2:22) that are a “corruption” (2 Peter 1:4) of the “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) God-designed human body.

Visual power (lust of the eyes) is an intellect-oriented and imagination-driven stimulation of wishful thinking that will take control of behavior (Matthew 6:22-23) if not carefully curtailed (Job 31:1; 2 Peter 2:14). Although impacting men more than women, this kind of “lust” will “conceive” sin instead of merely reacting to it (James 1:13-15).

Personal power (the pride of life) is a self-oriented and ego-driven desire for dominance that has no ethic or limiting factor other than the praise of men, not God (John 12:43). Such pride, dominated by the “natural mind” (1 Corinthians 2:14) and a “deceitful” heart (Jeremiah 17:9), spirals into a self-love that twists and distorts human behavior into a litany of ungodliness that loves pleasure rather than God (2 Timothy 3:1-5).

Giving in to these “worldly” powers may grant us pleasures for “a season” (Hebrews 11:25), but will surely make us an “enemy of God” (James 4:4). May our Lord Jesus grant that we stay armed against such “wiles” (Ephesians 6:11), covered and protected with the “whole armour of God” (Ephesians 6:13-17). HMM III