#respectfully the live audiences do not sound like they are losing their minds over this choreo as much as i am

[dreamaze]

BEAUTIFUL LIAR ⟡ Minhyuk × I.M 

[illusionlockarchive]

romeos huge rant on comedy, horror, and how they interlap

ok, so. full disclosure, what got me to make this post was this joke post right here.

so the initial premise is funny, haha okay. yeah. oh youre a kid and your punishment at school is that you have to stay at a room full of wasps. its funny because its absurd. it couldnt happen irl. youd think it wouldnt happen irl. youd hope so.

the thing about comedy and horror though? is that they actually operate on very similar concepts.

and that is, the absurd. the uncanny valley. what youre expecting the least. what youre not seeing and not registering. jumpscares are effective if at least to get you to jump, even if they are cheap. meanwhile, jokes where they completely twist your expectations to get you to laugh do the same thing.

it may be hard for you to believe me, but in the end, the bad ending of tattletail is the other side of the same coin as a joke that goes “i swallowed a tablet with some water. everyone on the apple store was terrified of me.”

i have not read the wasp story, but i can guaranteee you, i CAN imagine it being scary, if the right tones are used and suspense is built up nicely. with the right twists and turns, knowing when to keep things quiet and when to blow things out of proportion.

OR it can end up being unintentionally hilarious, if the characters in it are way too cliche to be real and feel more like caricatures of teachers and students, if things are rushed and details lose their meaning and value, if we are just to focus on being an audience watching a kid get chased around by a swarm of wasps, instead of putting ourselves in their place.

im neglecting to mention something though. horror is not the TRUE other side of the coin to comedy. no, thats tragedy. and im sure many more people have heard of that. the two masks used in theater, one happy, the other sad.

and now we come to two very interesting modifiers. im sure youve heard of the term ‘horror comedy’ to refer to a subgenre of horror that does have jokes and silly things still happening, and may not take itself all that seriously. but why is it a specified subgenre? because MOST horror is tragedy.

this is why, despite liking many horror games or even stories, in the end i still dont consider myself someone who actually likes horror as a general genre. most horror focuses on the seriousness of the faults of humans, on our fragility, on all we can lose or are even bound to lose, on the fear that what we feel so confident about having close to us can be snatched away in a second, that our sense of reality can crumble. most horror? doesnt end well.

comedies in general tend to focus on the absurdity of life, on how many silly, strange, or even uncanny situations can happen that can challenge us, but not in a harsh way, but in a way that, despite so many bad things happening, we still get to point and laugh it off and be okay at the end of the day.

literally, all it takes for a tragedy to become a comedy, and vice versa, is a tonal shift. when i told of my idea to create this post to my boyfriend, he backed me up, and told me “the difference between horror and comedy is in the soundtrack and silly sound effects”. hes right.

of course, there are things that you should have the decency to not laugh at, still. to keep your mouth shut and know when to reject. but good comedy knows how to stray away from that, and good tragedy knows how to handle it respectfully without making it torture porn.

so, as horror hinges on tragedy, on the fear that we all know we must face in our lives, because a scream is as natural as laughter, so horror comedies are born as an interesting paradox.

a year or so ago, i got the opportunity to watch the banana splits syfy movie. i was a huge fan of the banana splits as a kid, and would often watch their reruns. those silly furries meant a lot to me. but im not stupid, i know thats a horror movie, i went in kinda knowing what to expect.

it was a gore fest, and for about two or three nights i had trouble getting to sleep. i wasnt actually scared of my childhood friends in animal costumes, as i knew how absurd and irrational my fear was, but just the images of the massacre being fresh in my mind were enough to send me into a panic if i lingered for too long, which can happen, you know, when youre about to sleep.

(TW FOR DESCRIPTION OF A MANS DEATH AND GORE, IF YOURE SQUEAMISH JUMP TO NEXT PARAGRAPH)

i think a scene that perfectly blurs the lines between comedy and tragedy, as well as just plain horror in it, is the scene where a man gets killed by being put in a magicians box and sliced in half as a ‘magic trick’ by fleegle, the dog. as he pleads for his life, and his soon to be wife watches in horror and pleads for the robot dog to stop (yeah theyre robots in this, weird), fleegle continues to slice him in half and blood spurts out, until he is dead, and fleegle just happily and proudly showcases what he has done, as if he just did a real magic trick.

(END TW FOR DEATH AND GORE DESCRIPTION)

watching that was horrifying, of course it was. but at the same time, it was what i wanted and expected when i thought about “banana splits horror movie”. fleegle just did something completely absurd and entirely uncalled for. and what doubles the uncaniness of it is that it was supposed to be something harmless, a magic trick. think about this if it was in an adult swim cartoon. the same thing could still happen, but be treated as just a weird, gross joke. fleegle could even swear, say ‘heres your fucking magic trick damnit! oh you dont like it, well i quit!’ n then throw his hat on the ground and step on it.

they are essentially the same scene, but the cartoon version of it is presented in a way that shows full on just how absurd and unexpected it is, without any seriousness to it, probably without any moody music to accompany it. meanwhile the movie one focuses on the fear, grief, and horror of putting us in the shoes of a woman who just watched the man she loved be killed, with the shots being extra impactful.

in the end, the banana splits syfy movie is a horror comedy though, because most of the movie is spent finding the most creative, absurd, borderline funny ways for people to be killed off. as you watch it along, you dont know whether to laugh at the weirdness and absurdity of the events or to genuinely feel grief and fear over the bodies piling up.

i could also just go over a million other examples available to me right now. in fact, as of the time im writing this, i have the latest vinesauce corruption stream pulled on youtube. during corruptions, the most bizarre and absurd things happen, and often times, things get scary. we see the video game characters we love be deformed and twisted in ways that you can only imagine hurt, but they still act as if thats normal! so you cant help but laugh.

earlier today, i watched a gameplay video of bonbon. its a short horror game, with a very... different antagonist. i wont spoil much, because, i dont want to deter people from buying it. but i will say, there is a reveal at the end, which slaps you in the face with the realization that you have been played for a fool all along, and the developers would probably laughing at you if they saw you after youve beat the game. its a joke, and the fear that they cultivated so lovingly, is the punchline. your fear becomes a punchline. to me thats one of the highest forms of blurring horror and comedy, and one i prefer to some more gory and harsh attempts.

and i mean, i have to mention fnaf here, dont i? its a great example too, particularly because, if you look at the games by themselves, they generally take themselves pretty seriously as horror stories, minus a few odd cases or references. but they just have enough wiggle room that, if you look at them from afar, as an audience, you can take these characters youre supposed to be afraid of, and have fun with them, because it is pretty damn absurd, and even funny at the end of the day, that youre expected to be afraid of essentially big, robotic childrens toys. and thats when many fun, fan renditions that focus on lighthearted situations pop up. vanny herself is pretty funny even! the idea of a person who dresses up in a full fursuit to do crimes is pretty hilarious.

all in all, i think i just really appreciate how horror and comedy can converse with each other and how that says something about how we, as humans, are easily made impressed, made to be surprised and shocked, to jump or to laugh. and we are always looking for that thrill, it just depends on if youre looking for laughs or screams.

so yeah, maybe ‘wasp room’ can be a pretty good story. is it a horror story or a comedy? we wont know until we read it. (also if you made it to the end reading this holy shit i love you , i fully recognize i talked way too much)

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (2/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General Audiences, no warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 2/? (2452 words)

Author’s notes : Here’s part two ! I also updated part one to be a bit better, don’t hesitate to check it out ! (taglist at the end !)

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“I always thought it was a disputable likeness.”

“JE-sus FUCK-”, I spat out as I turned over, stumbling back from shock. How in the hell- I didn’t even hear a goddamn thing, which was concerning given how close he was standing behind me. An eyebrow elegantly arched at my profanity, he seemed to study my figure. I was suddenly very aware of how absolutely dreadful I probably looked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to break in- The door-”, I stammered, somehow unable to find any decent words.

A twinkle of amusement brightened his dark eyes, and he didn’t do me the mercy of saying anything to put me out of my misery. I took a deep breath, and awkwardly held out my hand for him to shake.

“I am Eris Cetero. I got caught in the storm, and saw light. I didn’t know where else to go. I would be eternally grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

A bit dazed that I was able to align so many coherent words, I didn’t even have the time to react when the man gently took my hand in his, and planted a light kiss on my knucles.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doamna Cetero. I am Count Vlad Balaur, and welcome you into my home.”

I managed to thank him, by God knows what miracle. From the moment our eyes met, he had not moved his gaze, nor did I see him blink, now that I thought about it. A shiver ran down my spine, making me shudder.

“My, you must be freezing. Come, sit by the fire. Do you have anything dry to wear ?”

I shook my head as he led me to one of the sofas facing the hearth, a hand barely hovering over my back.

“My bag is in a sorrier state than I am”, I sheepishly admitted.

“Well, I might be able to find something for you”, he told me with a gentle smile.

“I couldn’t, really, I don’t want to impose-”, I started, but he dismissed my protest with a flick of the hand.

“Nonsense, I will have no one die of pneumonia in this house. Wait for me here, I will soon be back.”

He left the room in long paces, and I followed his tall silhouette as it disappeared into the halls. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. He did look somewhat close to the portrait, however. I looked up to study it further. The figure was certainly recognizable, tall, some form of nobility in the posture. He was a Count, after all. His hair was neatly laid in elegant black waves across his broad shoulders, so dark it was almost lost to the background. He was obviously younger in the portrait, but still carried as much poise as he did then.

The crackling of the fire almost covered the sound of the rain. A log broke in half in a flurry of embers. The flames licked at the charred wood, and I started to follow their ethereal dance in the darkness. Hugging my knees closer to my chest, I wondered if I shouldn’t drip somewhere else than the Count’s expensive-looking antique sofa. Found myself unable to move, anyway.

My curious host stepped back into the room, dragging me from my drowsiness. He had a pile of neatly folded clothes in hand, and what I assumed was a towel. He was still smiling, which, for some reason, made me a bit uneasy. I shook off the feeling. I mean, he was just an old eccentric man. A little weird at times, but who isn’t?

“I’m afraid you might find the style a bit dated, however, it’s warm and dry, which is what we are looking for, aren’t we?”

He laid the pile next to me, and took his leave, respectfully closing the door behind him. Unsure about what I should do, I still took a look at what he brought. The fabrics were soft, and felt luxurious. Dated indeed. A long wool skirt I just could have worn as a poncho, a thin linen shirt closed by a series of pearl buttons, and a jacket, matching the skirt both in style and warmth. after a sigh, I decided to peel my own clothing off my body. Cold water ran down my back as I slipped my shirt over my shoulders. I decided to keep my underwear, for legitimate and obvious reasons, and put on the outfit the count prepared for me. He even had thrown in a pair of socks and boots, which, curiously, were exactly my size. As I stood up and patted down the skirt, I caught my reflection in a window. There, I was ready to leave for the suffragette rally, whilst my husband slaves away at the vintage car factory. I spun around, and the skirt flared in a very satisfactory manner.

“Are you dressed ? May I come in ?”

The sudden knock on the door nearly made me lose my footing. I caught myself on the back of the sofa, and approved the request. The Count entered, pushing the door with his foot as the carried a wodden tray, holding a steaming kettle and delicate cups. He laid it on a small side table, and turned back towards me, clasping his hands together.

“Aren’t you feeling a tad better now ?”

“Much better, thank you. If I may ask, out of curiosity, where does this dress come from? It’s not very often people have that sort of clothing at home.”

“Well”, he started as he poured tea into a cup. “It is a family home, and I must admit I do not know everyone who ever lived here. It may have been my grandmother’s, or her mother’s.”

He invited me to sit, and handed me a cup, which I accepted gladly. It had a subtle, comforting cinnamon aroma The warmth of the cup was doing wonders for my almost purple hands, slowly regaining a human-like color.

“Eris…”, the Count enunciated, slightly rolling the ‘r’, almost to himself. “What an unusual name. You must have terribly interesting parents.”

“Oh, far worse. Historians”, I scoffed.

“Greek, dare I venture ?”

“Yes. They’re kind fo the reason I am here right now, in a way.”

“Please, indulge an old man.”

He seemed genuinely interested. I guess living in a mountain surrounded by huge “KEEP OUT” signs was bound to make anyone feel starved for any distraction. It was a bit of a challenge not sounding demented as I told him about my family. Strict, absent parents, very demanding concerning school work, insisting on me keeping up with their research. As they were interested in the Classical Greek world, I shifted my interest to the Balkans, which was shocking enough, and became almost disowning when I started a masters in medieval studies. I became a bit estranged to them after that terrible offense.

“Do you still study that field ?”

“Well”, I sighed. “I should hope so. I’m in my second year of doctorate on ‘Archaeological evidence for the conflictual relationships of Balkanic regions and the Ottoman Empire during the 15th century AD’.”

It had him laughing softly.

“That sound like quite some work”, he commented, a strange glimmer in his eye.

“It is. That’s why I had to take a break, coming here. I told myself I’d take advantage of it and work, maybe visit Targoviste. Turns out, I’d rather risk death by the mighty elements than do that.”

I tried to smile, but the weight in my chest started to come back. It lifted while I was running high on adrenaline, trying to escape my doom during the storm, but now that I was out of danger, it sure as hell was back. The Count had a strange look on his face, almost as he was trying to read my mind through my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You must be tired, after such an eventful day”, he softly told me. “Let’s prepare a guest room, shall we?”

He was right, by all accounts. I took a deep breath, and handed him my empty cup as he held out his hand for it. His fingers brushed against mine, just a second, yet long enough that it didn’t feel unintentional. He did nothing of it, and placed the cups back on the tray, before escorting me into the halls. As we left, he took hold of a small candelabra and had it lit over the fire.

We made our way through the lenghthy corridors, and I started undertanding just how huge the place was. Confusing. Labyrinthic, almost. I wondered how I would ever find my way without breadcrumbs, or a trusty ball of yarn. I started taking mental notes of some reference points. A weird cat in a painting here, a knight fighting a giant snail in the corner of a tapestry there, that sort of thing.

“Are you also interested in art, Lady Cetero ?”, the Count asked, semingly noticing my interest.

“A little. I’m afraid I connect better with pieces of armor and war apparatus in general, though. A bit of an influence from my thesis, I think”, I admitted.

“Ah, in this case, I have something I am fairly certain you will enjoy”, he announced, before taking a right into another corridor.

We passed a few doors, and stopped in front of a slightly larger one. He slipped a large iron ring out of his jacket’s pocket, holding dozens of different keys, some oranate, some rougher. Without much hesitation, which was impressive considering the sheer ammount of choice he had, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open, gallantly leaving me to enter.

The room was dark, yest I discerned a faint glimmer across the walls. As the Count stepped in, and lit torches on the walls, I almost couldn’t contain a squeal of excitement. On the wall opposite the door, a suit of armor was displayed on a mannequin. Intricately worked in gilted vegetal arabesque, the darkened iron still suffered indents and scrapes, and the golden sheen had flaked in some places. I ventured that whoever had worn this had very little understanding of the crime it was to ever put such incredible crafstmanship at risk on the battlefield. It was very reminiscent of the kind of battle gear I had studied in my first year, but I never saw a complete one, least of all in such an incredible state of conservation. The suit was surrounded by weapons of the same make, still bright and shiny, the incrustations of stones and pearls seeming almost alive in the flickering light of the flames. The other walls were all covered in an almost artistic display of a large variety of other weapons, which it seemed spanned across centuries and all the surrounding regions of the Balkans.

“This is...Absolutely incredible”, I managed to breathe out. “How did you come to have such a collection ? Even the museum in Bucharest doesn’t compete !”

“I am very interested in history, you see. Some of the pieces here were there before I was born”, he told me, stepping closer to the central figure of the room. “This armor has been in my family for generations.”

He looked somewhat nostalgic, eyes drifting along the glistening metal. He stood tall, and I couldn’t help but picture him in it, his silver hair back to the dark waves of his youth, sword in hand, covered in blood and dust, leading his men into battle against roaring, bloodthirsty waves of ennemies.

“I would love to take a better look at them tomorrow, if you don’t mind”, I asked, trying not to look so eager as I felt.

“It would be my pleasure, however, I will have to take most of the day to attend some... Urgent matters.”

I nodded along, and we left the room, me with a last longing look as the Count extinguished the torches, and locked the door. He then led me along a stone staircase, set in what I assumed to ba a small tower, as I glanced outside through the narrow windows. On the second story, the floors was made of dark wood, which looked a bit dull. I figured if he lived alone, he didn’t have much time to varnish the whole castle. As we walked, the boards creaked in a sinister way, that reverberated through the halls. I couldn’t help but shudder, and though I head a soft laughter from the Count, walking ahead of me.

He stopped to open a door, and entered before I did. It was a fairly large room, with a high ceiling, supported by large wodden beams. An iron chandelier hanged at Mid-height, which was still half a dozen feet above my head. A large fireplace was carved into the wall, which my host had somehow lit as I studied the rest of the room. Behind wooden pannels, a large canopy bed was set near one of the three windows that pierced the wall, opening to a view of the wind-swept valley.

The Count carefully removed the large bedspread, which had probably been collecting dust for a while, revealing divinely comfortable-looking covers and fluffy pillows. To be fair, I was so exhausted I would have slept on the floor with no second thought, had that been necessary.

“Make yourself at home. You will probably find something to change in the wardrobe, if you want. I will leave you this for tomorrow, should you wish to explore”, he told me as pulled the key-ring out of his pocket, and laid it on a large desk. “Have a restful night, Lady Cetero.”

Bowing his head slightly, he exited the room, leaving me alone if it weren’t for the presence still lingering inside. I figured there was a slight possibility that I really were deep into hypothermia, and hallucinating, or, more likely yet, that he was a ghost. I slipped into a nightgown, still feeling a bit like a gothic novel heroine. I wondered a second how I could ever find sleep with all the wonder, excitement and slight feeling of dread that filled my mind. However, as soon as I let the heavy blankets over me, sinking into the matress, everything went quiet, the faint sound of the rain and rumbling thunder slowly lulling me to sleep.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock

Don’t hesitate to ask if you wanna be tagged !

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight ~ the end

Here it is at long last -- the conclusion to my @cssns​19 werewolf saga! Never would I have thought it would take me so long to complete, but after two years of work and two complete MCs in this world, I honestly think I was having a hard time saying goodbye to these versions of all of them. (Particularly this Graham and this Belle, who I honestly didn’t expect to steal so much of my affection.) Still, I'm sorry those who have been following this had to wait so long! Thanks you so much for reading and for sticking with me on this venture. Enjoy the happy ending (beginning)! :)

Plus, kudos and thanks once more to @branlovestowrite​ for this gorgeous fic cover, that I STILL can’t stop staring at!!! <3

This full story from the beginning can be found here or on AO3.  As can its predecessor “Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)” from @cssns​18 - here and on AO3 or ff.net.

Summary: A werewolf au and alternate season two and beyond fic from the @cssns​ event.  Should probably read the first story in the series, "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)", or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting....

~ epilogue: two very happy beginnings

After all the trouble and fear which had preceded their birth, and the risk their mother had endured to deliver them, there was nothimg but bliss surrounding Belle and Graham’s newborns once they arrived. Both were peaceful and content babies, seeming fit and healthy and perfectly adorable in every way - no furry toes, lupine ears, or anything else which one might have wondered about with such unusual origins and accelerated gestation. All of their organs and extremities were fully formed and working well; an immense relief to their mother and father, who were already desperately enamored of them, and the friends and makeshift family who had gathered around them in support.

In fact, the only real hint at their supernatural heritage was that both already had adorable ringlets of a deep russet brown, much the same color as Belle’s, though the curls were all Graham at his most disheveled, when fingers had been carded through it repeatedly. Both had the most adorable, cherubic chubby-cheeked faces that anyone who looked on them would agree they had ever seen, and they had charmed nearly every nurse in the ward where Belle had been moved for observation during her recovery, with barely more than a blink, a gurgle, or the single wave of a pudgey little hand. It seemed - much to the dismay of their numerous new admirers - that Belle would almost certainly be cleared to leave soon, as she seemed to be mending remarkably well.

In the meantime, however, Graham had taken a full paternity leave from the station in order to fuss over her protectively to his own satisfaction, promoting Emma to acting sheriff for the time being, and her dad and her wolf man both as deputies. Belle had tried to reason that it wasn’t necessary, that she was in good hands, and that she already felt much better, but he was having none of it; intent on being right by her side and at her beck and call with an almost desperate physical need. He come so close to losing her - her and the two precious pups he already loved more than life. He could not fathom how he would have survived if Belle had not. Even for someone who had spent much of his life in a solitary, isolated existence, loneliness still threatened to choke and suffocate him at the thought of losing her; the one person who had ever eased his burden and truly felt his pain - because, in many ways, it had been her own as well. The very idea of her presence fading from the world was overwhelming.

On rounding the corner into the hallway for his love’s room, he could hear raised voices and raucous laughter. Brow furrowing immediately, and hand rather damagingly tightening its clutch on the bag of chocolate croissants and takeaway cup of hot tea Belle had wheedled him into fetching for her, Graham’s hackles rose unbidden as he doubled his pace.  Granted, the uproar sounded pleasant enough, but it wasn’t what he had expected to encounter upon his return, and Belle needed her rest, not well-meaning visitors overexciting her and wearing her out. Though he knew he was being ridiculous and bordering on driving Belle crazy with his caution and concern for her health, he couldn’t do much to stop the unbidden reactions that kept rising within him either. 

Wheeling into the room, ready to show her visitors out, Graham stopped short at the collection of people crowded into the small space, and Belle in the center of it all, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and the happiest smile as she looked up to greet him.

“You’re back,” she crooned warmly, holding out her delicate hand for him to take, as well as to pull him closer. “Look! Can you believe this? Everyone wanted to see the twins and bring them gifts.”

Mary Margaret, at the foot of Belle’s bed, beamed at him and then Belle once more in turn. “Well, that is the best part of knowing someone with a little one,” she chipped in mischievously, “getting to spoil them with all the cutest toys and clothes.” 

Her husband beside her chuckled, his hand shaking with his mirth even as he pulled her into his side to affectionately press his lips to the top of her head. “Only you, Sweetheart,” he teased.

Henry practically bounced on the balls of his feets between his grandparents and his mom and Killian, clutching a gift bag he clearly hadn’t yet been able to give to Belle.

Ducking his head, Graham flushed at the thought that he had been about to banish them all from the room. One look at their faces showed they meant nothing but to help them both celebrate the joyous arrivals and Belle’s recovery; not to mention that one needed only to glance at the new mother for a second to see the good their visit had done.

Glancing sheepishly at his former liege, Graham nodded respectfully to Mary Margaret. “Thank you, truly, your Majesties, but… you didn’t have to do this… I mean, my Queen… Um, er, Snow?” Though both she and Charming had repeatedly let him know that bowing and formality were unnecessary, it was an adaptation the former Huntsman was still making, with varied amounts of success.

Snow reached out to press his upper arm with her hand, assuring him that the pleasure had been theirs, which he was grateful for - even as Emma and Killian on one side of the bed, and Ruby and Granny on the other, were set to laughing once more at his expense. Her husband smiled at her genuinely; that wide, magnanimous smile which let a person know that he was understood, that all was well, that he was seen and cared for by those called to rule and wear the crown of royalty - even if, in this world, that mark of leadership took the form of a deputy’s badge rather than a throne and lavish finery.

Taking pity on his awkward tendency in larger groups, Belle beckoned her love closer still, a gentle and knowing smile on her lips. “Maybe you’d like to help me make our announcement, since everyone seems to be here anyway,” she suggested, gazing up at Graham in sweet affection despite the heated blush that stole across his neck and the tips of his ears, though his stubble hid the pink of his cheeks.

Her sheriff nodded eagerly, knowing that their gathered group of friends and loved ones would be excited to hear the news, and he hoped, touched as well by the small gesture of thanks he and Belle were offering in return for their kindness and loyalty. To his mind, it could never come close to being enough, but it was something. Clasping Belle’s hand in his as he reached her side, Graham brought it up to his mouth, laying soft, chaste kisses to her knuckles one by one as they were intertwined by his own.

Looking back up into the faces of the fiercely protective tribe gathered round them, the man who had once faced the world completely alone found it particularly fitting that the twins were in the arms of Ruby and Emma. Since the little declaration they were about to make would touched those two fierce women most, it seemed almost kismet that those two would already be holding the little boy and girl. 

“As Belle already mentioned,” Graham began, a grin making its way across his face in spite of his dislike for the center of attention. This joyous moment was different, and he found himself almost beaming as those gathered before him looked up curiously at his words. “We have a couple of things we’d like to tell you. Seeing that we might not have reached this point so happily without all of you, it seemed only right that you be the first ones to know. These two cuties you’re all busy cuddling and spoiling within an inch of their lives…” At that, he gestured to the two happily gurgling littles ones, and his audience chuckled, knowing he had them with the spoiling. “These two new arrivals have names at last. Belle and I would very much like you to officially meet Rose Red and Hunter Henry.”

Oohs and ahhs over the perfection and adorability of their choices broke out all around, though no one’s enthusiasm was felt more than Henry’s. At hearing that the little boy cradled in his mom’s arms was sharing his first name for a middle one, Henry’s eyes bugged wide in sparkling excitement. Thrilled and bouncing even more than he had been previously, the young prince looked to Belle sweetly, thrilled beyond all reasoning. “You - you named him for me?” he repeated in awe.

Belle nodded, the smile she offered her young friend both kind and affectionately indulgent. Her eyes were more than a bit wide and glazed with a sheen of unshed tears as she wrapped him up in the hug he offered. “Of course we did!” she whispered in his ear emphatically. “You brought all of us back to our real selves with your belief. Who wouldn’t want their little ones to have a heart like yours?”

Graham leaned over to envelop them both in a fierce hug too before Henry and Belle could separate. His own voice was husky and rasped with stark emotion, but he spoke over the lump of feeling to second Belle’s response. “You were a light when so many of us had little else in this place - not even our true selves. You should know what a hero you are by now.”

Henry shook his head in disbelief, having a hard time swallowing such praise, even as it sent a wide, crooked smile across his face and pride stir within him. Yet, as he glanced around at everyone else in the room, they were nodding and affirming their agreement - from Ruby beaming at him widely, to his grandma’s teary joy, to his mom and Killian standing together, with his mom mouthing ‘He’s right, you are’ to him with a look of such parental approval and love that Henry hardly knew how to handle it.

Chuckling good naturedly, Ruby reached out to ruffle his hair, something he had begun to protest his mom doing (he wasn’t a little kid anymore!) but which didn’t seem to bother him when the pretty brunette werewolf did it. Her teasing and bright, toothy smile made the usual gripe die on his tongue and a flush creep up his neck instead. “Well, I’m not sure I’m even half so deserving as Henry,” Ruby jested, “but I’m still touched you’d put ‘Red’ in there for a middle name too.”

“Well…” Graham paused, drawing out his next words dramatically as he flicked yet another look over at Belle who nodded eagerly, biting back a giggle at the glint of mischief in his eye and at how happily surprised they were about to make her vivacious new friend. “It seemed only fair she carry a nod to one of her two godmothers in her name. That is… if you and Emma agree to take on that role.”

Ruby squealed with barely contained glee, stopping herself just in time from jumping up and down in her excitment and jostling the little girl dozing in her arms. “Are you serious?” she asked, dark eyes wide in awe and genuine surprise. “Me?... Truly?!?”

Belle clutched her hand, reaching out with kind approbation. “Truly and absolutely… we’d be honored.”

After a moment weighted with feeling and acceptance, all three turned their faces to Emma, who was blinking rapidly as she glanced up from Hunter’s cherubic countenance to return their gaze, and nodded wordlessly, offering a tremulous smile to her friends before finally managing to croak out, “Me too… absolutely.”

That afternoon took on a golden-tinged glow for all of them in reminiscence. Looking back on it at any time afterwards, that moment just after the twins’ birth was one of those scarce ones that only come along ever so rarely, where everything seems right as it should. A moment meant to be frozen and kept sacred in the mind’s eye, one to treasure.

Even after life began to shift back to normal, they were forever altered - and despite the difficulty and danger they’d weathered - for the better. After recuperating (much longer than she had wished, at Graham’s and her other friends’ insistence) Belle returned to her beloved library, helping anyone who stepped into her sanctuary find the story they sought. Graham eventually stemmed the flow of stifling overprotectiveness and desire to watch over his love at every moment, and returned to his post and duties as sheriff, taking care of the town that had become his home - the people in it more family than he had even been gifted by birth.

And though it might have been a reluctant parting at first, both of them rested in the assurance that either godmother they left their children with had successfully fought both villains and monsters, and would do so again for their young. If Emma had the day off from the station, she often took the twins out on the waves with Killian in his ship, their childish giggles and squeals showing signs of them coming to love the wind and waves almost as much as the trees and shadowed clearings of the forest. If Emma was working, Ruby or Granny were more than happy to entertain and look after Rose and Hunter. Ruby had been known to set them both on the diner counter in their car seats when she was hostess, making faces at them in play and allowing pretty much everyone in the town who entered Granny’s to fall in love with them. Or sometimes Granny would rock them gently, one in each arm, in an old rocker situated in the corner of her upstairs office. Though she had mostly recovered from Morgana’s attack, her older joints didn’t have the healing powers they had once possessed, and she simply couldn’t stay on her feet in the kitchens all day as she once had. She was more than pacified in her occasional relegation to the quiet room to keep the books and check tourists into the inn by the presence of the two little ones where she could have them all to her self and tell them old stories, just as she had once done for Ruby and Graham years ago.

And Emma… well, she and Killian understood quite well what would bring both their sheriff and librarian back to the service of their strange little fairy tale town in whatever way they felt called. The sense of belonging to and affection for a place both of them had once considered themselves “only passing through” or arrived in by mistake was uncannily right, all the way down to their sinew and bones. When Emma’s deputy shifts ended in the afternoon or early evening, she found herself with a wealth of options - more people to see and things to do than she would have ever imagined for herself. On days when she was finished by three, she sometimes strolled over to the school to meet Henry and her mother and walk to her parents’ loft with them for an afternoon snack - or if it was raining, she might pick them up in the Bug. Occasionally, she drove over to the animal shelter where her father was now office manager and spent time with her dad - the novelty of that, which she had wished for so often in her growing up years, never seemed to wear thin. Moreover as well as growing closer and closer to her dad, she was growing more and more tempted with each visit to adopt the large, saucy tomcat that always greeted her with his vocal purring as she arrived and reached her hand into his enclosure to stroke his sleek, beautifully striped fur and scratch behind his ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” she found herself crooning more often than not, to her dad’s chuckling over her shoulder.

“Oh, he is - and he knows it!” Prince Charming offered. “He’s been here nearly six months now. His owner trained him well - loved him and spoiled him rotten truthfully - but she passed away... Antonio, I believe she called him.”

Emma snorted, “Must have been a Shrek fan,” she mumbled under her breath, now offering him gentle scritches under his chin.

“What’s that?” her dad asked, a puzzled tilt to his head.

“Oh, never mind,” Emma waved her hand. “Just another movie woven into this place with a tie to fairy tales, but I doubt you’ve seen it. The Puss in Boots character in it is voiced by an actor named Antonio.”

Her father chuckled, shaking his head at his own oblivious ignorance, long used to such occurences happening by that point. “Gotcha. Well, regardless, he definitely likes you, and he’d be good company. Plus, a good mouser on a pirate ship…?”

Emma cut her eyes to her father with a wry smile, both knowing what he was hinting at, and that he was digging for more info. “Subtle, Dad… real subtle.”

Yet it didn’t stop her from carrying said ‘mouser’ in her arms when she headed out that night as her dad locked up. The adoption paperwork was folded and stuffed into her back pocket, and she knew Killian would be equally as charmed by the handsome feline as she had been. Even as she and her father parted ways and she set off on her path to the docks, shaking her head at her own softheartedness, she knew that her wolf man would welcome her pet with open arms. He had even more of a weakness for lonely creatures in need of a home than she did.

The moonlight glittered off the dark waters of Storybrooke harbor, where the Jolly Roger was now permanently berthed. Pausing on the wooden planks of the dock, Emma gazed up at the ship, seeing her sailor standing on board, bathed in the ethereal glow and staring up at the stars overhead. His magnificent old ship had come to seem like her home too; she practically lived there with him for all intents and purposes. 

Something warm swelled within her chest as Killian turned at the sound of her approach and smiled down at her in welcome. “I’ve brought you a new recruit,” she offered playfully, stepping up to the gangplank where he could see the animal nestled happily in her arms.

“Well now, Lass,” Killian murmured, a pleased smile teasing at his firm, supple mouth as he took in the purring tabby. “It’s been some years since we’ve had a good mouser aboard the Jolly. He’s an admirable find for certain.” His wink along with the words made her blush, even with such a light and playful conversation.

Holding out his hand to help her aboard, Emma thrilled at the gentle pressure of her pirate’s fingers wrapped around her smaller ones. As she reached his side on deck, she leaned into Killian’s sturdy frame while his arms encircled her and his spicy scent enveloped her senses, the rightness of the moment and them together and their place in their world - home at long last - could not be any clearer. Their port was set, wherever they might sail.

Tagging: @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​ @therooksshiningknight​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @gingerchangeling​ @winterbaby89​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @hollyethecurious​ @artistic-writer​ @lfh1226-linda​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @thislassishooked​

[jace-the-writer-guy]

Lifebringer (Part One)

///Years in the past, Aurora was a simple priestess of Suvlenoyus, the God of Life and Death. She worshipped him along with the other priestesses of the temple in her home village, along with training and controlling her immense magical power. It was soon time for the ritual she had been prepared for over the course of several years, and on one night she was brought to the inner sanctum of the temple so that she may be given audience with her deity.///

Word count: 2,681

“Aurora, you have gained power and skill far beyond any of us here in our home and our Temple of Suvlenoyus…” One of the elders of Aurora’s village, the  dark elven village of Ashantil, said to her as she sat on her knees in front of the woman. She was an older looking dark elven woman, but still beautiful in her age. She had the same color hair as Aurora but very long, reaching down to her backside. From all the elves in the temple with them, only one had markings on their face and that was Aurora. Behind Aurora was a pool of crystal clear water, being filled from the small fountains in the wall behind the altar, the water running through small channels into the pool.

“You have devoted your abilities in learning how to control your power and use it for the greater good,” The woman continued, “You have grown so much, but there is still much more to be learned. But, there is one particular thing we believe would be used best in your knowledge.”

“What would that be, mother?” Aurora asked respectfully.

“The power to bring the dead back to life.”

Aurora looked up at her mother, her eyes widened a bit. “This is my ceremony?”

The woman nodded. “It is, my daughter. Your day has come. Only just a few people in the world have gained such a power. Suvlenoyus has given this knowledge to his most trusted acolytes, and now only a select few circles of his followers in the world know how they may gain access to this knowledge. We brought you here tonight so that you may learn this knowledge and pair it with your power, as none of us here have.”

Aurora straightened her back and bowed her head. She knew all of this information already, but hearing it again on the night of her ceremony felt completely different in her mind. “I would be honored to be gifted with this power, if I am worthy of it.”

Her mother nodded and turned to the altar, her hands clasped over her chest as she began to pray. “Suvlenoyus, hear my words on this night. I am Tiriana Aramentay. As your humble follower, I request that you see my daughter and impart your knowledge onto her…” Tiriana took a beautiful ceremonial elven dagger from the altar a moment later and clasped it against her chest to continue the prayer, letting her magic wash into it, “We ask that you see Aurora and accept her into your realm that you may give her this knowledge in solitude. We ask that you send her back to us if you deem her unworthy that she may continue to train and grow her power…”

Tiriana turned from the altar and toward Aurora, and she knelt down in front of her, a hand on the young woman’s cheek. “You will be brought back to us, my dear.”

Aurora nodded shortly. “You have my trust, mother.”

Tiriana pressed her forehead against Aurora’s. Several long moments passed in the temple before the priestess sunk the dagger deep into Aurora’s chest. But, Aurora felt no pain. The dagger pierced her heart and her mouth quickly began to pool with her life force, crimson trickling from the corners of her lips. Tiriana withdrew the blade from her daughter’s chest and nudged her backwards, and Aurora fell into the pool of water. The water felt very thick around Aurora’s body as she began to sink and slowly lose consciousness. Still, she felt no pain and though her heart no longer beat, she lived just barely. As the moonlight filtered through the roof of the temple and into the pool, the water began to swirl in black and emerald green colors around her and soon she could see nothing before she finally faded away into death.

From above the pool, Tiriana had put the ceremonial blade back on the altar before she had turned back around to see the pool of water take an emerald green color. “Suvlenoyus has taken her… Now we must wait.”

X x X x X x X x X

Aurora drifted aimlessly through a dark green abyss, her eyes closed shut as blood continued to spill from her chest. Her body was limp, her lips parted slightly with blood floating from them. Her lifeless form floated along, her beautiful dark skin slowly becoming more and more pale. It was strange. She was dead, but her consciousness remained in her body. Or… did it? She was aware of her body floating in nothingness, no sign of light given all around her. It was nearly like a dream. Soon, she saw her own face in the dark and loneliness of her closed eyes, and then her face opened its eyes.

Aurora gasped and her eyes shot open as her heart began to beat, bubbles of air coming from her mouth and rising above her. The darkness cleared around her and she was met with an emerald green sky. She didn’t notice any water around her anymore, and she was flying just like in a dream. She saw what looked like it could be the sun in this strange, eerily silent realm but it only emitted a dim light. She began to fly towards it, thinking it could be the God of Life and Death himself. She floated towards it for several moments and she tried to reach out for it but then, a sudden flash from the sun blinded her and she guarded her eyes from it.

After that, Aurora began to fall from the sky like a star, and for several long moments she felt as though she was frozen in heaven. No scream escaped her lips as she fell, plummeting further and further down but it just never seemed like she was moving at all. The silence was just entirely unsettling, and Aurora still had absolutely no idea if she was unconscious or conscious or if this was a dream or real. Blood pumped through her heart and poured from her chest and it beat more and more, and color came back to her skin to return it to its dark color. And still she fell from the sky for what felt like hours upon hours.

Splash

Eventually, Aurora’s body fell into an ocean of emerald and she fell deep into that abyss. And still, she felt nothing at all even as the green water enveloped her. Eventually, she stopped sinking and she found herself in total darkness once more. But, this didn’t seem to last and she could see the surface of the water slowly descending down on her and she saw the light of the strange sun peeking through the ripples. The light reflected down onto her underwater form in different patterns and ever so slowly the surface still descended, and that’s when her true consciousness began to come back to her.

The surface of the water finally lowered to her and passed her, leaving her laying on what felt like solid ground when in reality she laid on nothing at all in three inches of water. Aurora then tried to move her limbs for several moments, and she finally felt herself able to take control of her body. She turned her body over and rose to her hands and knees, and then she slowly pushed herself onto her feet. When she stood, she looked around and was met with the sight of a vast nothingness. Waves of emerald green water flowed around endlessly in all directions. The sky directly above her was pitch black and there was no sun anymore. The sky gradually turned green the further toward the horizon Aurora looked until it was a yellowish-green color All around as if it was just a sunset in all directions.

Aurora looked around for several moments before she turned once more and she saw something rise from the water ten feet in front of her. The figure grew to almost double Aurora’s height and it was covered in black, tattered robes. She looked down as a light began to emit from her chest and she saw that the open wound from the ceremonial dagger was slowly mending itself. The warmth of that light spread to her heart and flowed through her veins and through her entire body, leaving her letting out a slow, long breath as the magic healed her chest and heart.

“Aurora Aramentay…” A deep voice echoed deep in Aurora’s mind.

The dark elven woman kneeled down to the figure. “Suvlenoyus… You know why I am here?”

“I do, child. Tell me, why do you wish to prolong the lives of those that are taken?”

“I… feel as though many lives that are taken are done so before their time,” Aurora began to answer the deity in a low, respectful tone as if she was at a funeral, “In the short travels I have had away from my home, I have learned of women who have lost their young children, and mothers who have died in childbirth. I have learned of men losing their comrades to nothing more than accidents that cut their lives short. I have learned of many people who have been taken long before their time.”

Aurora heard a deep, thoughtful hum resonate in her mind. “A fair reasoning. And tell me, would you plan to use my knowledge for selfish reasons?”

Aurora thought to herself on that, and her immediate thoughts turned to her father, who had died years ago in battle. “I will not lie… If I create bonds of friendship with others when I leave my home to adventure the world, and if I lose those friends to tragic means, then I will revive them with this power. I will continue their lives until they may pass peacefully and naturally. But, those… Those like my father who have passed on years in the past will be left alone. I will not use this gift for personal gain, and I will not use this power for evil means.”

Another hum sounded in her mind. “You are not the first to make such promises, child. Yet, you are among the few who have…” Aurora felt a slight chill run through her when she felt Death grow close to her, “I sense the honesty in your words, Aurora Aramentay. Rise to your feet and face me.”

Aurora did so wordlessly and she looked up under the hood of Suvlenoyus’ robes, and she saw pitch darkness. “This power is not to be taken lightly. If I am to impart my knowledge onto you, then you must make a pact to me…”

Suvlenoyus reached into his robes and pulled out a dagger very much like the one Tiriana had plunged into her heart. “By joining this pact you will learn the knowledge of resurrection magic that I have once passed to my acolytes. By joining this pact, you will gain an extended lifespan over all others of your race. By resurrecting another mortal, you will sacrifice years from your own life. By joining this pact, you will become a Lifebringer, an Acolyte of Life and Death. You must decide when you deem it is necessary for a soul to be restored to their body, for if you resurrect another mortal, you will never regain those sacrificed years. Do you accept these conditions?”

“May I ask… Why do you accept me so easily to offer me this pact?” Aurora asked curiously.

She heard another deep hum inside her mind. “Many who have seemed audience with me have done so with much trepidation when realizing they must die. You faced your sacrifice without fear, and unlike many before you, your words hold honesty rather than uncertainty. I will give you this knowledge and this power, and I will send you back to the mortal realm. Do you accept the conditions I have laid before you?”

Aurora took a few moments to think to herself on that question. She had no doubts at all over this. If she did, she wouldn’t have attended the ceremony and she wouldn’t have agreed to her mother stabbing her in the chest and killing her in order to gain this audience with Death himself. She only thought of what good she could do with that power. The families she could mend by resurrecting a lost child, the friends she could keep from death, the young children that she could keep from becoming orphans. Those thoughts were what drove her to this choice in her life when her mother had first taught her of resurrection magic. She thought that if she could train with her great magical power, then any sacrifice she had to make by resurrecting a person would be lessened. That could be the case, but either way, the sacrifice would be worth it.

Aurora soon straightened her back and looked deep into the void under Suvlenoyus’ hood. “I accept.”

Soon after she said those two words, she felt the dagger the god had brought out sink deep into her chest as the other had. And again, Aurora felt no pain but rather than feel her life drain away, she felt a new type of magic flood into her body, straight into her heart and into her soul. She felt Suvlenoyus lift her into the air in front of him and felt his hand almost engulf her head, and then she felt the knowledge of resurrection magic pour into her mind, and the power to do it flood into her soul. She immediately began to know how to perform the ritual needed to bring a soul back from death. Her eyes began to glow an emerald green color  and soon they glowed very brightly before everything stopped. 

“Now return to your world, child.” Aurora heard his voice in her head one last time before Suvlenoyus withdrew the dagger and let her go, and she fell deep into the water, back into the dark and loneliness of the emerald ocean.

X x X x X x X x X

In the Temple of Suvlenoyus in Ashantil, Tiriana and the other priestesses waited patiently, surrounding the emerald pool in the center of the inner sanctum. Hours had passed since Tiriana had sent her daughter to the God of Life and Death, and the sun had risen over the village. They each waited there for hours in prayer that Suvlenoyus would be kind and impart his knowledge to Aurora, Tiriana more than the others as she clasped her hands tightly over her chest. 

Finally, the color began to fade from the pool and floating up towards the surface was the body of Aurora, a faint emerald light emanating from the center of her chest. The sounds of the water being disturbed gained the attention of the priestesses and they opened their eyes to see Aurora had returned from Suvlenoyus’ realm, and Tiriana quickly crawled over to the pool and over the water, which was now very shallow, and she placed her hand over Aurora’s chest.

The young dark elf’s eyes fluttered open after a few moments and her lips parted as she sucked in a long breath. “I-I… have entered a pact with Suvlenoyus. He accepted me as a Lifebringer and gave me the knowledge and power of resurrection.”

Tiriana began to give a wide, relieved smile. “How was the journey to and from his realm?”

“Very… surreal.”

Her mother laughed softly at that. “Yes, that is how it was for me when the former head priestess here sent me.”

“Congratulations, Aurora,” One of the other priestesses said to the newly anointed Lifebringer, “It is a great honor to journey to Death’s realm and return. I hope to take that journey myself one day.”

“What did he look like?” Another, younger priestess asked rather excitedly.

“What was it like?” The last asked.

“Girls, let her breath,” Tiriana said to them both and laughed once more, “It is a very tiring journey and it’s very taxing on the mind and body. Aurora is going to need rest and food.”

Aurora felt herself blinking multiple times. She felt very weak and unable to do much more than move her lips to talk and keep her eyes open. “Vaeril…”

The last priestess that had asked her a question perked up. “Yeah?”

Aurora grinned weakly. “You need much more experience before you ever take that journey.”

Vaeril pouted and frowned at that. “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

[waywardwilled]

DESTIEL || A Cosy Christmas

Summary: It’s Christmas and Team Free Will 2.0 spend it over at Jody’s with Claire and Alex. They’ve never met because I said so.

Categories: Fluff, Canon (ehh...) Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Jack Kline Words: 5,960 Rating: General Audiences Tags: Fluff, Talking about Jack, No Idea

Notes: Jack and Claire get a ton of spotlight because I love them. All of a sudden fluffy asf Destiel. This story is a fucking mess. Beware. Also, I wrote this before I caught up on S13,,

Links: Fanfiction.Net

"Dean. Where are we going?"

Dean was half tempted to ignore Jack's question. It was easy to fall back into old habits but Cas was back and he was starting to see Jack in a new light.

"Sioux Falls. We're gonna be spending the Christmas over at a friend's house."

"Jody Mills, she's the sheriff in the Sioux Falls police department." Sam supplied helpfully, "and Alex."

"And Claire," Cas added on from the back seat, beside Jack. Jack nodded and stared out the window as they pulled up the driveway to Jody's cabin. Light shone from within and a glimmering Christmas tree was visible through the window.

"Guys! You're here earlier than expected." Jody opened the door upon their arrival.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Jody," Dean remarked and made his way in, followed by the rest.

"You must be Jack!" Jody gave him a quick hug, who in turn looked at Castiel awkwardly; only stiffly wrapping his own arms around her when he seemed to grant unnecessary permission. "I see you're well Cas." She lightly smacked his arm and quickly exchanged hugs with the boys. "Claire and Alex are probably bickering in the living room. You guys settle in, I need to finish up the turkey."

When they reached the living room, they expected the two girls at each other's throat, but instead, they were greeted with the complete opposite. They chatted like long lost sisters, which, in a way, they are.

"Hey. You two seem to be chattier each time we see you. What's hot?" Dean set down the two 6-pack he brought with him. They lifted their heads in surprise, not noticing their entrance. What surprised them even more, was the new blonde boy that accompanied them.

"Who's that?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"This is Jack." Cas gestured towards the boy that awkwardly stood out in the group. The girls raised their eyebrows even higher. Before they could ask any questions, Jody came back in hands full with a plate of turkey and various other Christmas-y foods.

Jack sat between Dean and Castiel, making sure he was surrounded by familiar faces, feeling like the stranger and the odd one out. Sam was left to sit beside Alex and Claire, on the other side of the table, with Jody at the head.

They dug in, gratefully bringing food onto their plates and stuffing themselves, leaving Cas and Jack to awkwardly sit there (actually, Cas was used to it) and watch them eat.

"Uhm," Jack began, unsure of what he should do, "I don't eat much."

"What, you an angel too?" Claire offhandedly asked.

"Actually, half." He corrected, "My father was an angel." Claire nodded, letting the information sink in and slowly looked over at Castiel.

"Lucifer," Cas stated as if that answered all of their answers. This caught Jody's attention.

"Ah," She turned to Dean, accusingly, "Would've been nice to know you were going to bring the spawn of Satan to be eating dinner with us." Her words struck a spot and Jack looked down.

"Jack isn't what you think." Cas jumped in, feeling the need to defend his basically adopted son.

"Yea, we're practising to control our power and to use it for good, right?" Sam piped up. Jack nodded enthusiastically.

"Yea!"

Thus began the barrage of personal questions that Claire and Alex threw at him.

"Why are you with Dean and them?"

"If the devil is your dad, where is he now?"

"Does this mean you're an orphan?"

"If you're half human as well, what human things do you do?"

"What about your mom?"

"Uh-Uh…" Caught off guard, Jack looked at Sam and Cas in panic. They simply offered him a supportive smile.

"W-Well, my mother died when I was born, but she said that Castiel would take care of me so I have chosen Castiel as my father." Jack seemed proud, "I give no thought to my other father whatsoever." A moment of silence washed over them as Claire and Alex struggled to take it all in.

"Wait, so Castiel is basically your dad," Claire asked.

"Ah, yes, that's right." He confirmed, "Both of your parents are deceased correct? That's why you're staying with Aunt Jody."

Jody almost choked upon hearing her new title, but Dean helped pat it down. Alex and Claire nodded.

"Well, I was kidnapped by vampires when I was just a kid, until I got rescued by them." Alex glanced at Sam and Dean, who in turn gave her a smile. Jack looked over at Claire, waiting for her story.

Claire, unsure how to proceed with something so personal, looked over at Jody and Castiel. "Erm, well, my family used to be relatively normal. Until my dad got possessed." The supernatural piqued Jack's interest.

"By a demon?"

"An angel." She glanced over at Castiel, unsure whether or not she should continue. He simply smiled at her, as if to say, 'no hard feelings', but she didn't know who they were for.

Jack blinked, surprised. "I didn't know angels possessed people." Dean let out a laugh that ended in a choke when he met Cas' glare.

"Ah yea well, after that he disappeared for a year and my mom went missing and long story short, they're both dead so." Claire cut her story short and stabbed at her meat. Jack respectfully nodded.

They continued the dinner in silence until Jody, thankfully, changed the topic, "So what are you guys up to these days? Still running away from Lucifer?" She slapped the table before Sam and Dean were able to finish exchanging that look. "No lying in my lobby!"

"Erk…" Dean distractedly stuffed his mouth and left Sam to pick up where she left off.

"Uh, actually, Lucifer's trapped in another dimension."

Jody's mouth dropped. "Another dimension." She echoed.

"Yeah, and the gap closed so he's never coming back. Never." Dean confirmed. He pushed Mom into the back of his mind. He didn't need to bring her up and ruin everyone's mood.

"We should be celebrating," Claire said.

"We are celebrating." Came Jody's reply. Claire scoffed.

"Yea, celebrating the birth of Jesus."

"Actually," Cas began to interject, earning a moan from Dean, "He was born in August-"

"Cas, they don't need to hear your hour-long lecture. I'm sure they can just google it themselves if they're really interested."

"Hey! I like his informational sessions." Sam retorted.

"Hah, yeah, 'cause you're both nerds." Dean countered, Sam delivered his well-practised bitchface. Cas failed to shrug it off and his face slightly fell. Dean felt a small pang in his heart. He'll make it up to Cas later, he decided.

"Hey! No fighting!" Jody snapped them in place. She felt like she was handling Alex and Claire again; she really did when Alex and Claire started snickering. Sam and Dean shared a small smile, rolling their eyes they simultaneously said,

"Yes, Mom."

Castiel watched Jack laugh with Alex and Claire, bringing a strange warmth to his heart. Pride? Delight? He didn't know but it felt good. Suddenly, strong arms grabbed him into the hallway, the walls around them, hiding them from the others that had formed a circle to read stories. For a moment, Cas panicked but regained his rhythmed heartbeat again when he felt Dean's breath rest on his shoulder. Remembering Dean's remarks earlier, Cas ignored him. He watched Sam and Jody exchange stories, searching for funny moments to tell Jack, Alex and Claire.

"Come on, are you still angry about earlier?"

Cas continued to pretend Dean wasn’t there. When Dean pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck, He couldn't help but tilt his head. Sighing, he turned around to face Dean.

"I'm not a nerd." Cas frowned when Dean laughed, "I have also never understood your use of the word as an insult. The use of the word frequently means an expert in a particular field- "

"I was joking, Cas, joking." Dean held him around the waist. When they heard soft Christmas carols float through the cabin, Dean guided them down the hallway for more room. Grabbing Cas' hand, Dean couldn't help but sway to the light and slow tune of Silent Night-- Despite being the non-chick flick moment of a person he is.

"Dean, normally your jokes do include the insult and downgradation of others but-" Cas began to sass him when Dean cut him off with a kiss. When he pulled away, Cas simply looked more annoyed than before, "Don't interrupt me." Dean slowed the swaying and looked close to tears.

"Dean rasped, "You sound like a dissatisfied wife." Cas frowned.

"I will leave." Cas threatened which only seemed to fuel his laughter more. When he turned around to leave, a pair of familiar arms reached around and easily carried him to the end of the hall. Cas let out a small squeak when his back met the wall and he looked up to see that Dean has trapped him.

"Geez, I was joking again Cas." Dean smiled lightly and a pressed a light kiss on the other's lips. Cas let out a small amused huff at his boyfriend's joy; it was rare for Dean to be so carefree. Laughter from the living room seemed to vibrate throughout the cabin. Outside, the snow lightly touched the ground and the contrasting temperature clouded up the windows, which only seemed to make the inside that much cosier.

"I know." Cas smiled and his heart felt much lighter than it has in a long time. Dean laughed, bumping their foreheads together. He brought their faces close, giving Cas all the time he wanted to lose himself in Dean's vibrant green eyes. He wasn't sure whether it was because someone he loved was in his arms, or because the Christmas festive joy was infectious, he couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Merry Christmas Cas."

"Merry Christmas Dean."

[shaydh]

Initiation

A story from Valdir’s childhood that I promised like three months ago and finally finished, mostly due to inspiration from @mrs-cheese‘s Bhaalspawn backstories~

He was fifteen when his mother came to him and told him they would have an audience with the Matron Mother the next day.

Valdir stared at her, expressionless. He had learned early on that questions were not received well, that the wrong response to the wrong person could cost him dearly. So he stood in silence as she recited the rules of proper behavior, as if they hadn't been hammered into his brain the moment he could understand speech. Keep your eyes lowered, address the priestesses with the correct titles, speak only when spoken to and not at all when a nod or a bow would suffice. And above all, obey whatever order the Matron Mother gives, without question or any hesitation.

She repeated this last part once more, insistently, until Valdir nodded and swore to do anything the Matron Mother asked. The look his mother gave him was almost frightening. She had always been serious, rarely smiled in either malice or delight, but this was something else. It was fanaticism on par with some of the Spider Queen's most dedicated priestesses, except he couldn't imagine what it could be for. His mother had never spoken the name of Lolth in worship, or indeed at all.

She pressed an object into his hand. At first glance he thought it was a house insignia, but in place of a house rune the surface of the stone bore the relief of a skull. A circle of rubies glittering around it, bright as blood.

“Do not lose this,” she hissed, eyes burning in her gaunt face, one thin hand clutching Valdir’s wrist tight enough to hurt. He gritted his teeth as bones ground together. “Do not let anyone see this, or your life is forfeit. Do you understand?”

Valdir nodded even though he didn’t understand. Why was she giving him this trinket if he'd be killed for it? He didn’t want it. But questions were not received well, even by his own mother, so he tucked it into his ragged robes.

And then, to the young drow’s astonishment, she laid her hand on his head.

It was unusual for her to touch him kindly, or to even acknowledge him at all. She had never been cruel to him, but for most of his fifteen years she had done little more than allow him to trail behind her like a shadow, sometimes on her assassination missions if he was lucky. The few times she had seemed to truly see him, the expression on her face could only be described as covetous: not looking at a person so much as a weapon, a means to an end. To Valdir, those moments were brief flashes of reassurance; as long as she had a use for him, he wouldn't be abandoned. This time, however, he met her eyes with a growing sense of unease.

“You don't understand, I know." She finally released him, and Valdir resisted the urge to rub his wrist. "But someday, you will."

***

He had only ever seen Matron Mother Adelya from a distance. She was always dressed splendidly, with a spider silk cape draped over her shoulders, jewels glittering at her throat and fingers, delicate chains of adamantine and gold threaded through her thick braids. She would sweep by imperiously, attended by a few favorite males, while he and his mother would lower their eyes until the nobles had passed by. Sometimes Valdir couldn't help but raise his head to peek at them, entranced, until his mother forced his head back down with a hissed warning to attract no attention. It didn’t matter. To the nobles, the common-born might as well not exist unless they got in their way.

“This is the boy?”

He shivered. He wasn’t cold—he never felt cold, oddly enough—but having the full weight of the Matron Mother's imperious glare focused on him was enough to make a chill run down his spine. He saw his mother nod out of the corner of his eye, her gaze remaining respectfully on the floor where she knelt.

"Come here.” Ring-laden fingers beckoned him forward. Valdir got to his feet and moved to stand in the center of the room, in full view of the Matron Mother and the three lesser priestesses flanking her. He could feel all four of them studying him, but he dared not lift his gaze from their shoes.

"Your mother tells me you have some sorcerous ability. Show me."

This, at least, was something Valdir knew how to do. He lifted his hand and, just as naturally as drawing breath, summoned fire at his fingertips, letting it flicker along his skin until his entire hand was limned by dancing flames. The priestesses at Matron Mother's side hissed at the sudden light and turned away. Adelya did not. Through the flickering flame, quite by accident, Valdir met her eye.

She did not seem displeased; rather, her eyes glinted with greed. He understood her intentions immediately: here was a new toy. A new weapon.

“A bold one, aren’t you, boy? But with that skill, perhaps you’ve a right to be.” Her voice turned colder as she addressed his mother. “Very well. He is worthy of becoming a ward of House Auvryani…provided he passes my test.”

Valdir stared openly, forgetting himself for a moment. Join House Auvryani? Had his mother requested this of Matron Adelya? This was the first he’d heard of it; he hadn't even known such a thing was possible. The young drow snapped back to attention as the Matron Mother turned to him once more, trying to hide his astonishment.

“With a bit of polishing, your talent could be a useful addition to my household. However, I have plenty of skilled assassins serving me already." She cast a glance in his mother's direction and her lip curled in a sneer. Standing opposite these graceful, elegantly-attired priestesses, Valdir saw that his mother looked especially plain. Her wiry form was clad in little more than a worn leather harness, and her shorn hair and the multitude of pale scars that crisscrossed her body marked her as someone of the lowest rank, even among commoners.

"I dislike it when members of my household hold connections to outsiders," Matron Adelya continued. "It might make them...waver in their loyalties. And so…” She pointed. “Show me the strength of your magic and your loyalty. Kill her for me.”

Valdir froze, breath catching in his throat as he processed her words. The Matron mother was watching him intently, and as he stared he noticed her hand making the slightest motion toward the snake-headed whip on her belt. Aware that hesitating too long would be taken as refusal, he quickly turned and looked to his mother, still kneeling on the stone floor.

She looked back at him with the same feverish expression she had given him the night before. She did not look surprised or afraid. With a shock, he realized she had expected this-no, she had planned it. His second realization was that there was only one course of action if he himself wanted to live.

Behind him, he could sense the Matron Mother and her attendant priestesses eagerly waiting to see the display of loyalty, and Valdir felt a sudden burst of savage anger that surprised even him. They were mistaken, he thought as he raised his hand. This was not Adelya's order he was following, this was not out of loyalty to her. The last order was his mother's.

The fire was flickering in his palm though he didn't remember calling upon it, and with barely a thought he sent it racing towards his mother. And so he watched as the fire engulfed her thin form, watched as it stole the breath from her mouth when she opened it in a bone-chilling howl that sounded almost like laughter. When the flames died down, he couldn’t tell if she'd been grinning in triumph or if the horrible rictus was a result of her flesh melting from her skull.

Fifteen years of trained obedience made Valdir turn and kneel before the Matron Mother, gritting his teeth and ignoring the smell of burnt flesh that filled the air. Matron Adelya made a pleased noise, and even her attendant priestesses looked grudgingly impressed.

"Not bad, boy. Very well, from this moment forth, you belong to House Auvryani." She beckoned to one of the guards standing to attention at the chamber door. "Jaaed will show you to your chambers. Wait there until I summon you. It won't be long; we have much to discuss."

Valdir stood, bowed, and fell into step behind the guard without a word, more than eager for the audience to end. He did not look to the blackened corpse on the floor as he passed. The image was seared into his mind already.

Later, when he lay alone in the tiny cell-like room that was his new home in the Auvryani complex, the memory of her smile would haunt him and he would wonder. What had been so important that she'd unflinchingly accept the worst kind of death for it? And more importantly, what kind of pawn had she turned him into? Valdir turned her amulet over in his hand, staring into its empty gaze and tracing over the worn shape with slender fingers as he was sure his mother had done countless times before.

Whatever her endgame had been, her soul would not go to the Spider Queen. Of that, he was certain.

[itslikethatfrenchthing]

028: HOW I USE ORGANIC MARKETING TO REACH 100K VIEWS

iTunes | Stitcher | Soundcloud | Overcast | Spotify | TuneIn | Castbox

Today’s talking point:

 Organic Marketing!

Welcome back guys! Just a quick reminder before we jump into organic marketing: if you need a rest, if you need a day here and there where you need a creative reset, please take that day. Burnout is real. I would have hit that point if I hadn't taken some time off, and it can absolutely happen to you if you are not being delicate about your time and your energy. 

Please take some time to bring energy back in so you can come back stronger, more passionate and more creative. And if you don't fill your own cup first, it's very difficult for you to help others. Now for the juicy par you've been waiting for: organic marketing,  

USING UNPAID MARKETING TO GROW YOUR AUDIENCE

If Mark Zuckerberg was standing right in front of me right now, I would tell him: I don't like that I have to run ads on my business page to get the best engagement. Not to blow my own trumpet, but I have mastered organic marketing in the sense that it's been how I consistently reach 100,000 pageviews every single month on my blog. 

This is how I've truly grown my business over the last couple of years. I have not spent any money on ads. I truly did this organically (unpaid marketing) through a few different secrets and tactics that I'm going to share with you.

Okay, so let's dive into these tips and realise that all of this does take tests and trial. You have to figure out what is going to work for you.

P.S. Click here to grab your FREE step-by-step Boss Traffic Flow Checklist!

#1|  Sharing your story (& solution)

Your story is everything. It's everything. Your journey, that A to B transition, is worth so much. 

I've built a personal brand from me being vulnerable and that sounds so “woo-woo” and way too good to be true, but honestly that is the biggest tip. When you become a really good storyteller and you are finally allowing your audience to see who you are, that is when the connection starts, human to human sales. 

People in 2019 are craving human connection more than anything. This is why live video is crushing it, why podcasts are crushing it because you have the opportunity to be intimate with a human. The beauty of live video and podcasting is when you can clearly articulate your story and marry it with a solution, you have hit marketing bliss: connecting your story with your solution. 

To treat social media “like a diary” and hone in on connecting with your audience, you can ask yourself some questions & identify:

What is your story? 

Why do you do what you do?

What brought you to where you are today?

When you chip away at those questions, you’ll realise where you’re passions stem from and be able to marry your story with your solution. 

Once you’re in a position to say: “Hey, I actually know some of the top tips to heal from blank. I actually now know what it's like to go through blank and I want to help you with that to”, that makes you a powerful leader. 

Humans need to feel connection to purchase. If you have not already, read Why She Buys by Bridget Brennan. You can check that out on Amazon. It teaches you so much about the female brain and how we truly are emotional creatures and the best sales conversions for us are through the heart. 

So number one: what is your story and what is your solution? How can we marry and merge those two? These are the stories that you are going to recite and recycle on social media to really remind your audience who you are and why you do what you do. 

#2 | Direct Messaging 

Number two is direct messaging and no, this isn't sliding into people's DMs. It's clear messaging where you're speaking to one person. This is you, making sure that your message is very niche and your message is really something that one person could read and say, “oh my God, how did she know I was dealing with that?”

When I was in the beginning stages of building my personal brand, I was creating a lot of content. It was interesting to assess what type of content really landed  and what type of content was just okay. Speak your truth, speak your mind, in a way where you always respectfully support the other side. Speak what you want to say. 

When you're not running ads, organic growth comes from sharing your content, your content being so good and so helpful that Susie wants to share it with her best friend. 

In my podcast episodes, I follow a Q & A format. Whenever I record an episode, I always speak to the person who asked the question -I have one ideal client in mind before I press record. If I think about all the other people, not only does it become overwhelming, but then I forget who this messaging is really for. 

If you create content that everyone's going to like, you're not going to get those few people who love it. You create a loyal tribe of people who are obsessed with you and your work when you are polarising. 

#3| Live Video

Number three is live video. I can’t say enough about live video and how much it's truly changed my life and my business. It's been one of the most fulfilling things to do, because it's allowed me to connect with my audience on a really deep level.

It's allowed sales to be so easy for me that I never feel like I'm actually selling (because I'm really not). I'm just showing up, sharing my story and being my authentic self, there's no filter, there's no editing. 

So just giving you an idea, it's showing you the possibility and it's hopefully inspiring you to get yourself on live video. We go deep into this in the Busy to Boss Method - if you are not inside yet, I am adding some new trainings that are going to make you a boss at live video.

If you want people to purchase from you, get them to trust you first. Without showing up for your audience, how are they supposed to know you, or to trust you? Give your best passion to your audience, which they deserve. Solve problems, give value, give unmatched value. Live video is the fastest way to do that and that is way better than just running ads. 

#4 | Affiliate Marketing

This can be a really powerful way to sell and can be really authentic and genuine to do affiliate marketing. So you can give a referral incentive (Aka money) to people who will help you sell your courses or products for you. This is how you can work around not having to run ads. 

As a business owner, you can't think about it as, “oh, I'm losing money because so&so is getting a chunk of that sale” because that was money that was going to be spent on ads. As a marketer, I'd actually rather do heavier affiliate marketing and “lose money”  because it's an actual guaranteed sale. Whereas, if I just pump money into Facebook ads, I don't necessarily know if that is a guaranteed sale.

  #5 | Collaborations

Collaborations are huge. Whether this is you getting on a podcast, doing split screen live videos with all the bloggers and business owners, bringing people into your Insta stories, this is everything in the online space.

Sharing each other's audiences and really helping each other is so important. Utilise each of their networks like hell and collaborate because you never know who could help you and vice versa. If you know someone in the online space, who has a fantastic audience that aligns with yours, and you can bring a value to that person, it's time to pitch them. It's time to reach out. It can't hurt. If you don't ask, you don't get, and you might as well see if there's a collaboration opportunity.

#6 | Giveaways

Now giveaways can be annoying as hell if you're doing them every day and you're giving stuff away Monday through Friday. This is intended to be used strategically: a few times a month or a few times a year, where you are giving people an incentive, a free gift. Get creative, anything can be a giveaway. Maybe you're partnering with an amazing health and wellness company and they sent you a load of amazing products that you can give away. 

To use giveaways to their full extent:

Ask your audience to tag 2 or 3 friends in that post 

Give them some sort of incentive to join your email list or your newsletter

Get on live video, make fantastic graphics for it and incorporate collaboration with giveaways. Get creative. 

Resources Mentioned In This Episode:

Tool Recommendation of the Day: Typeform

Want access to a library full of online marketing resources plus weekly bitesized breakthroughs to help you boss your online presence? Find it here.

What did you think of the show? Leave a review on iTunes and become the Breakthrough Blogger of the Week!

Subscribe to the show and get notified when a new episode goes live.

Come join my free FB group.

Apply to work with me 1:1 in the Busy To Boss Method here.

P.S. Be sure to download your FREE Boss Traffic Flow Checklist to grow your niche and generate more readers and subscribers organically!

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[nolimitsongrace]

April 27: An Unlikely Sermon Illustration

An Unlikely Sermon IllustrationApril 27, 2020

For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription: TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.

— Acts 17:23

In yesterday’s Sparkling Gem, we examined Paul’s tactful and effective ministry strategy as he sought to share the message of the Gospel with the highly educated pagan crowd on Mars Hill in the city of Athens. Today I want to focus on his message. As Paul stood in the amphitheater and looked into the faces of the Athenian judges who were listening intently to him, the Holy Spirit dropped a sermon illustration into his heart that was pure genius.

Paul began by saying, “For as I passed by….” The Greek word used here carries the idea of a leisurely walk or a stroll. This is a word that a tourist might use to describe a peaceful, paced walk on a sunny afternoon. The Greek tense used implies multiple strolls throughout the city, which means Paul has taken the time to observe Athens. As a visitor to this historical city, he hadn’t closed his eyes to the city but had taken the time to experience its sights, its sounds, its smells — all the unique characteristics that made Athens what it was.

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

Paul went on to say, “…And beheld your devotions….” The word “beheld” is the Greek word anatheoreo, a compound of ana and theoreo. The word theoreo means to look upon or to gaze at, and it is where we get the word for a theater.

Like a huge theatrical stage, the entire city of Athens was staged for idolatry. Since idolatry was the biggest show in town, Paul had carefully observed it like a patron at the theater who watches every act of a play. He had studied the Athenians’ devotion to idolatry and knew the level to which this city had sunk into this abominable practice. However, in Acts 17:3, this Greek word theoreo is compounded together with ana, a word that means up. Thus, the word anatheoreo, translated “beheld,” actually means to look upward.

In addition to the thousands of small idols that people kept outside the front door of their private homes, Athens was filled with huge images that towered over the heads of those who passed through the city. These statues were so monstrous that as Paul strolled through the city, he had to look upward to see them! But instead of referring to these idols as the abominations they were, he calls them “devotions.” The word “devotions” is derived from the word sebo, a Greek word that means to stand in awe, to reverence, to worship, or to venerate.

Calling those idols abominations would have gotten Paul nowhere. In fact, using that kind of terminology would have gotten him kicked out of court and evicted from the city! Rather than lose this God-given opportunity to speak to the brightest minds in Greece at that time and impact that city with the Gospel, Paul continued to build a bridge to his listeners. If he had said that the city’s idols were abominations or cursed images, he would have been correct. But instead, he kindly called them “devotions,” which means objects of worship.

As Paul took strolls through the city and observed city life, he could see that the people of Athens were genuinely in awe of their gods, as evil as these idols were. The Athenians truly venerated and reverenced the idols as objects of worship, even though they were nothing more than objects carved of wood and stone — a truth that Paul clearly stated later in his message. But at that point in his message, Paul chose to call them objects of worship, further widening the door of the listeners’ hearts so they would receive the next vital point he wanted to make in his message.

Looking up at the listening judges, he went on to tell them that as he had passed through the city, he had “…found an altar with this inscription: TO THE UNKNOWN GOD.” Then he continued, “Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.”

Knowing full well that idols were precious to the heart of every Athenian — especially to Athenians such as the judges who were seated before him — Paul reached deep into the world of Greek culture and borrowed an idol as the sermon illustration for the message he was about to preach. If Jewish leaders back home had known what he was doing, they might have fainted! Idols of any kind would have deeply offended the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. But the Holy Spirit had shown Paul that the idol to the UNKNOWN GOD was a divine opportunity to declare to these Athenian leaders the identity of the UNKNOWN GOD! Paul then went on to brilliantly make use of this image made of stone to reveal the truth of Jesus Christ to his listening audience!

At this point, Paul had the judges transfixed by his message and shocked by his knowledge of vivid details about the city. Sensing Paul’s sincere respect for them, the men gave him their undivided attention as he prepared to shoot the Gospel arrow deep into the darkness of their souls in such a way that it would penetrate their hearts.

Then suddenly — Paul did another astonishing thing! Right in the middle of his message, he reached into classical Greek literature and quoted the Athenians’ own poets and philosophers! He said, “For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring” (Acts 17:28).

Today we use this quote in the lyrics of certain Christian songs. But these words weren’t written by Christians — they were written in a heathen context and then used by Paul to reach Greek hearts! The words were originally written by Aratus of Soli in Cilicia in 270 BC and by a Stoic philosopher who wrote a hymn to Zeus in approximately 300 BC. If Paul was trying to impress his intelligent audience, he had done it! They had just learned that this was a serious man — so educated that he could even quote by memory from Greek literature!

It was clear to Paul’s audience that he had read other materials in addition to studying the Old Testament. Because Paul was not only highly educated, but also well-rounded in his education, he could therefore speak freely to this intellectual crowd.

When Paul was a young man studying at the University of Tarsus, he had no idea that he would one day stand before the highest court of Greece and use the information he was studying at that time. What a vivid example this is of our need to cherish what we are presently learning! It is very likely that God will call upon us to use what we have learned in times past to help fulfill our assignment now or in the future.

There are great lessons to learn from Paul’s message on Mars Hill. What did he do right?

Verse 22: Paul addressed them respectfully: “Ye men of A…” He could have called them wicked sinners, which would have been true — but he would have immediately lost his audience. Paul appealed to them on a higher level of respect and therefore got their attention.

Verse 22: He called them religious. As we saw yesterday, this was a great compliment to them, which caused them to open their hearts to hear his Paul could have condemned them for being idol worshipers, but this would have shut their hearts and provoked them to evict him from the court and from the city.

Verse 23: He used an altar as the basis for his ser This object that Paul borrowed from their own culture as his chief illustration surely caused these judges to draw nearer to hear what he had to say. He could have said that this altar was an offense to God, but instead Paul chose to use it as an illustration to lead his audience to the Gospel message.

Verse 28: Paul quoted the Athenians’ own Greek poets and philosophers, showing them that he was familiar with their culture, literature, and history. This surely impressed the Athenian judges and caused them to respect what Paul had to say. He could have decided to quote only from the Bible, but by choosing to quote from their own literature, Paul grabbed their hearts and provided a common ground that they could relate to.

Imagine how dumbfounded the judges must have been when they realized that the man before them was a man of intelligence, not just an ignorant preacher with weird ideas. By the time

Paul was finished, he had fully preached the Gospel from beginning to end. He had even given an invitation, calling on his listeners to repent!

As you reach the people to whom God has called you to minister, ask the Holy Spirit to help you find ways to connect with them so they will open their hearts to you and to the message you have to share with them. The Holy Spirit knows the key to every person’s heart. He knows every culture and every nation, so nothing takes Him by surprise. If you are willing to listen to the Holy Spirit’s direction and do what He tells you to do, He will show you how to build that bridge into people’s hearts more quickly than you could have ever done on your own. Just open your heart and receive what the Holy Spirit wants to show you!

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Lord, I am so thankful that You teach me step by step how to be more effective in the way I witness and share Your love with people. You know the key to every person’s heart, so I ask You to give me the key to reach into the hearts of those people You have laid on my heart. I know they are part of my assignment, and I will do whatever You ask me to do in order to reach them effectively. But I ask You to speak clearly to me. Help me understand the proper steps to take and the right things to do so their hearts will be open to receive the love You want to give them.

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I confess that I am growing wiser in the ways I share Christ with unbelievers. Because I pray and seek the assistance of the Holy Spirit, He is helping me, showing me how to touch people’s lives in a way that opens their hearts both to me and to the love of God that I am commissioned to bring to them. I declare by faith that God’s Spirit is guiding me and teaching me how to be more effective in my methods of reaching both the unsaved and those who are in deep spiritual need.

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Can you think of effective methods the Holy Spirit has given you in the past that have been successful in opening the hearts of unbelievers so you could share the message of Christ with them? What were some of those successful methods?

As you think of the people God has placed on your heart right now, what can you do that will draw them closer to you and thus allow you to ultimately share the best news in the world with them? What acts of kindness can you show them that will make an impression on their hearts?

For whose salvation are you specifically praying at this time? If you haven’t yet made a list of the unsaved people God has put on your heart, why don’t you do it now to help you remember to pray for them every day?