#rightly dividing

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

A Workman without Shame

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. — 2 Timothy 2:15 | King James Version (KJV) The King James Version Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Romans 6:13; Ephesians 1:13; James 1:12; James 1:18

[the-big-picture-bible-blog]

Q&A Concerning Rightly Dividing and Jesus versus Paul

QUESTION (on social media): Why do people say ��You don’t have to obey Jesus because Paul said we are saved by grace?” Jesus said whoever doesn’t obey his words, is building on sand. (Matthew 7:24-27) Paul was for Jesus. MY REPLY: ALL the words that Jesus spoke are spirit and life, Jn.6:63, but we must take note to WHOM Jesus spoke. In his earthly ministry, Jesus spoke to the Jews. His entire…

[scripture-pictures]

[touchlikethesun]

@/queerdeadwizards posted a really cool meta today about the morality/grey morality of the black brothers, and it made me think of something, a point that they alluded to but that i want to expand on, but basically, when talking about the morality of regulus, i think an overlooked aspect of potential grey areas comes from the fact that we have absolutely no insight into his motivations for the things that he does.

like, the facts of the case are, regulus figured out about the horcrux(es?), found, and tried to destroy the locket, leaving a note with the line "i face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more." so we know that regulus wanted to see voldemort defeated. but we actually have no textual evidence of what specifically about voldemort pushed reg to try to help take him down. was it really because he came to the conclusion that voldies ideology was so horrible? or did he just disagree with his methodology?

i know we as a fandom like to charitably assume that regulus genuinely saw the error of his ways, the evilness of voldemort and his goals, this is the characterisation i prefer as well. but we don't actually know. i think, if handled correctly, it could be really interesting to explore a regulus that did the right thing for (at least partially) the wrong reasons.

[superbdonutpoetry]

Reconciliation is Based Exclusively on God's Terms

CONTRARY TO 2 CORINTHIANS 5:16 Why does the vast majority who refer to themselves as Christian, believe that Christianity is largely a way of life whereby Jesus, during His earthly ministry to Israel (Matthew 15:24 – King James Bible) is seen as THE ensample they are to follow in order for them to gain salvation and thus, entry into paradise? SELF-RELIANCE The criteria this institution holds…

[aratype]

its kind of weird that in uni they still assign u team projects without allowing you to work alone.. like wtf

[justwriterbritt]

A short about The BLESSING of the LORD

[serpentface]

The god Od depicted in a symbolic representation of the word's creation as a docile bull awaiting sacrifice at the altar.

It carries the foundations of the world in its horns (via a very old cross and wheel motif representing cyclical totality, now mostly used as a visual shorthand for the world). It has three sets of horns in the form of the lunar crown, a mostly obsolete symbol of Wardi royalty. The altar is decked with an orange lily motif, after a hardy native water lily capable of regrowth in waters that dry seasonally. This symbol of rebirth and fertility in a sacrificial scene evokes the sacrifice-rebirth cycle initiated by Od's primordial slaying, which is fundamental to the world's functioning.

This is a rundown on interpretations of the god Od, a deity that has a long history in the lands surrounding the Mouth of the eastern inner seaway, and the impact (or lack thereof) of its primordial sacrificial nature in religious practice.

The god Od appears in religious practices throughout the region, having the utmost significance to the Imperial Wardi faith and lesser or separate significance elsewhere. The five religious practices wherein variants of Od has longstanding historical significance are the Burri Faith, the (Imperial) Wardi faith, the Old or 'Heathen' Wardi faith, the faiths of the Hill Tribes, and the Wogan faith.

—

The name Od and most significant elements of this god have origins in the Burri faith, which was transferred across the sea to the Wardi, Wogan, and Hill Tribes in the time of its second and third empire.

The Burri Od is described as having been the first being. The universe began as a cosmic sea and empty, eternal sky, loosely representative of a primordial and fundamental female and male dualism. Od appeared at their borders as a result of their interfacing, in the form of a giant aurochs or bison whose hooves touched the seafloor and horns touched the sky. He dipped his head down to the silt and lifted it out of the sea in his horns, thus forming the foundations of the world. His semen spilled into the cosmic sea and created the first seven gods, who then killed and divided their father, giving the world its form with his body.

While significant to the creation story, Od is of relatively little importance in everyday practice of the Burri faith and is not commonly worshiped (rather his seven children are, as they were the original and most powerful group of gods and created life).

Though the Burri Od takes on a sacrificial role in creation, animal sacrifice is not central to the Burri faith and is only performed in specific contexts (some festivals and holidays, in times of great strife, and to a few specific gods within a wide pantheon). The Burri faith does not involve a sacrifice-rebirth cycle as foundational to the world's functioning and god's health, and offerings are instead mostly gifts to please and rightly venerate the gods (or avert the malice of less savory deities). Offerings of food, drink, and precious materials are preferred by most gods. When animal sacrifice does occur, bulls ARE generally favored, as a reflection of their primordial counterpart.

—

The modern/Imperial Wardi Od is partly an import of the Burri tradition, which fused with both native monotheistic/animist worldviews and animal cults during the reign of the 2nd Burri Empire and developed into a new faith, which has presently become the state religion of the Wardi Empire.

‘Od’ in the Imperial Wardi context is best translated as capital G ‘God’ (anyone saying 'God' is, in-universe, saying the word 'Od'). Its creation of the world plays out in a very similar fashion, but the first human life (rather than other gods) is created by Its semen mingling with the cosmic sea. It willingly sacrificed Its body at the hands of the first people, who formed the world with its remains. Its shed blood spattered the earth and can be found today as meteoric iron, and animal life emerged from the mingling of the blood and the soil. Its death initiated the eternal cycle of sacrifice/death and rebirth, with each begetting the other and necessary for the world to function.

Od's body is dead and the world is Its corpse, but Its spirit survives in seven 'faces' which govern specific functions of reality and society. The connection of Its spirit to Its body is maintained by right practice, right prayer, and right sacrifice (in the form of food/drink offerings, bloodletting, common sacrifices of animals and occasional sacrifices of people).

The Imperial Wardi Od is generally regarded as genderless and dual-sexed, and referred to with a unique deified pronoun most effectively translated as capital I 'It'. Its sex is of relatively little significance to everyday religious practice, and discussions of Its dualism are more likely to occur in scholarly and philosophical contexts (like debates on the minutia of how Its semen, milk, and menstrual blood are all mentioned in old accounts of creation, and how the implications of this should translate to body politics and taboo).

—

The Old Wardi or ‘Heathen’ Wardi faith is a separate branch of old ethnic Wardi religion with significantly less Burri influence. This is a minority practice that only survives intact in isolation. Its practitioners are often hostile to all foreign influence and the Imperial Wardi faith, and suffer minority status and religious suppression.

Its version of Od is a more intact surviving remnant of ancient Wardi monotheism, as an androgynous creator god who lost physical form in the act of creation, and lives on as innumerable spirit aspects of its whole. This deity is referred to as Od in describing its primordial form, but is mostly referred to as a unique word for spirit, which is 'the Koya'. Practitioners of the old faith often identify the seven-faced Od as a twisted, foreign misinterpretation of the Koya. 

This practice is somewhat animistic in nature and involves veneration of individual spirits that form a larger whole. Every aspect of the world has a spirit (plants, animals, minerals, bodies of water, etc) that exist in an ideal balance and as strands of an interconnected death-rebirth cycle. Each spirit is referred to as 'the [noun]-koya'. All discrete forms of life/matter have at least one attached Koya, while living beings also have a soul (which is separate from the Koya and reincarnated upon death).

Each Koya exists as a quintessential essence (ex: the lion-koya, the maize-koya, the iron-koya, the salt-koya) rather than separate individual objects having separate individual Koya, though unique landmarks do have their own (the Brilla River-koya is separate from the Yellowtail River-koya, though both share the freshwater-koya). Each individual may have multiple spirits (geese have the goose-koya, but also the bird-koya, the freshwater-koya, etc), a system that categorizes the world by intrinsic natures and precisely dictates how each physical body has unique metaphysical significance.

Animal sacrifice plays a somewhat similar role in Old Wardi religion to Imperial Wardi religion in the sense that it intends to maintain the stability and oneness of the divine spirit and a death-rebirth cycle. In this case, in freeing part of the spirit, balance can be brought to the Koya totality and restore the death-rebirth cycle. (Ex- in times of drought, the sacrificial release of the migratory goose-koya can encourage the return of the rains). This is far from the only way to re-balance the Koya. The most significant rites come in the form of songs that summon, release, or expel individual Koya as needed.

—

The Od of the Hill Tribes is a mingling of the Burri/Wardi Od and a much older goddess of fertility and agriculture, and is strongly associated with cattle and barley. This version of Od did not create the world and is only one of many gods, though she is said to have been born from the sea and carried up fertile soils with her (which is likely a direct result of Burri/Wardi influence). A few tribes venerate Od as a chief or patron god, though none are fully monotheistic (outside of converts on individual or clan levels).

She has a distant common ancestor with the Finn goddess Morgren (as the various Hill Tribes are descendants of a single proto-Finn population who migrated across the Viper seaway in prehistory), who is also a goddess of agriculture associated with fertility and barley (though in Morgren’s case, she is THE god of the staple crop barley and lacks the cattle association, and has no direct influence from the Burri/Wardi Od whatsoever)

Most of the tribes of Greathill do not practice animal sacrifice but offer grain and fruit to Od, and create a sanctified mix of crushed barley and oil that is anointed on livestock and people to confer Od's blessings of fertility. In some cases, the dominant cow in each herd is considered to belong to Od and will not be milked or slaughtered, and is buried with full rites upon its death.

—

The Od of the Wogan religion is distant to the rest of her counterparts, though has absorbed some Burri and modern Wardi elements over time and is referred to by the same name (a definite foreign import). She shares the fertility aspect ubiquitous to other Od variants, and is occasionally depicted as a cow.

She is a goddess of the earth and sea, who was wed to Iapedi, the god of the sky. The ocean is functionally her womb (which may be trace Burri/Imperial Wardi influence, or merely coincidental) and all life emerged from within. 

These are the only two true gods to the Wogan, though there is an additional element wherein the mating of Od and Iapedi also created innumerable spirits found throughout nature that act as an animating life-force. The concept is very similar to the Old Wardi '-Koya' (as the two faiths had close common ancestry), though this one lacks the sort of taxonomical system of its counterpart, and only ascribes spirits to living things. Each spirit in the Wogan religion is distinct (rather than each type of animal, plant, etc potentially having multiple spirits), and the spirits existing in each body are part of a greater whole that exists as a sentient consciousness that can be communed with (ex: each lion has A lion spirit, all part of The lion spirit, the latter of which can be engaged with).

Wogan religion strongly retains ancient animal cult practices common across the ancient Wardi-Wogan sphere, some of which have been translated into the faces of God in the Imperial Wardi context (both religions share commonalities of lions, snakes, albatross, migratory ducks, and cattle being significant sacred animals). The function of animal worship to the Wogan is communication and interface with the greater spirit of each animal (which can range anywhere from gaining personal blessing and protection, to dispelling plague, to 'lay off on eating our crops').

The Wogan faith does not involve animal sacrifice (though ancient variants almost certainly did). This is connected to traditional vegetarianism among the Wogan (as a means to avoid offending animal spirits), which some view as a point of pride and a mark of distinction against their Imperial Wardi majority.

[filmtv2022]

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

Also... just to clarify... the reader may be a bit younger than Marcus, but she is meant to be read as far closer in age to him than to her brothers (older sister). Writing for large age gaps is something I'm NOT comfortable with and did NOT incorporate in this story.

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Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind. 

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose. 

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight,  and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him. 

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later. 

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time. 

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.” 

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.” 

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation,  and fell short, “It has been adequate.” 

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?” 

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you. 

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings. 

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.” 

“My lady.” 

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later. 

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

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind. 

You couldn't be sure of the hour,  but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was. 

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less.  But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.  

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings. 

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm. 

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it.  With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot. 

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface. 

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen. 

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-” 

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.” 

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.” 

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest.  You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart. 

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.” 

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.” 

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

[the-big-picture-bible-blog]

Did Paul preach a different gospel to Jesus and the 12?

The following are some responses to the previous post uploaded concerning Paul’s “my gospel” and rightly dividing the Word. If one does not rightly divide the Word, it will become confusing, as is evident in this person’s comments. The comments are all directly related to mixing up the Kingdom and Grace doctrines. It is not only sad to see such confusion, but it is dangerous to spread such false…

[scripture-pictures]

[corazondebeskar-reads]

where you've been

For @dindjarindiaries celebration honoring 5 years of The Mandalorian.

5 Years of the Mandalorian: Day 2 - Boots

din djarin x f!reader

words: 708

summary: helping din with a simple task turns a little devotional.

warnings: dom!din djarin, use of good girl, established relationship, riduur!din, married couple, din djarin takes the helmet off, prelude to smut but nothing explicit, boot worship, hints of foot fetish, to me this is [spoilers] but we'll call it a standalone drabble, no proofreading or anything tbh

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t mean to. 

You don't mean to make a thing out of it. And yet, here you are. 

It becomes something of a routine. Mando comes back from a hunt and goes straight to the fresher. He leaves his boots at the foot of the ramp, when possible, so as not to track filth through the Crest. 

It started out innocently enough. You saw his sad, lonely boots sitting out in the rain, getting dirtier instead of being cleansed. 

Help us, they seemed to say. You imagine they’d have squeaky little voices. 

While it occurs to you later that this is a sign you’ve been alone too long on the ship, in the moment, it tugs at your heartstrings. Those poor, abandoned boots. It’s not their fault that they’re so dirty! 

Yeah, you’re definitely starting to lose it in your solitude. 

You tiptoe down the ramp in your bare feet, hopping quickly to avoid the frigid durasteel before it can adhere your delicate skin to itself. Boots snatched in your hands, you make your way back to the safety of the warm ship. 

Din’s boots have seen better days. Many, many, many better days. But you squint at them and think you kind of love them. The buttery leather melts under your fingers, and you can see the way they’d hold snugly to his broad, flat feet. 

They’re just boots, but they’re the boots that carry him home to you. The bounties change, the unforgiving planets never change, the life never changes. And these boots bring your husband home. 

So you take them to your station, a crate in the hull repurposed for the care and keeping of equipment, and you give them the spa day they so rightly deserve. You don’t mean for it to be anything more than it is, but the work is soothing.

In the end, they might as well be new. The bantha leather shines with the coat of protective oil you had carefully rubbed into the supple flesh. The grooves of his soles are free and clear of mud, stones, and detritus. A few careful stitches had pulled the lining back in place. 

You’re scrutinizing them when he comes out of the fresher, clad only in loose linen trousers. His damp hair clings to the back of his neck, and his eyes are sharp as he takes in the sight of you perched there.

He doesn’t need to ask. The curve of your shoulders, your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and the steadiness of your breathing tell him everything he needs to know. He tips your head up to look at him with his knuckles, and your lashes flutter as you look up at him.

“Oh, cyare,” he murmurs. “You’ve gone and put yourself down, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” is all you muster.

He clicks his tongue. "That's my job." But he takes the boot from your hands gently in his other hand. “Look at this. What a good girl, taking such good care of my things.”

The warmth in your chest spreads like a dust storm, and his thumb wanders over your lip, freeing it from your teeth. 

“You like that? Worshipping me that way?” 

If you were in your right mind, you’d marvel at the way his voice is so smooth and sultry, the rough rasp of it somehow silky as he wraps you in his sweet words. 

But you’re not in your right mind, and you’re far too distracted by what he’s said to notice how he said it. Worshipping. Yeah, that’s about right.

You blink up at him, dazed, and nod. “Yes, sir,” you say for good measure.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a smile. He sits on the crate. “Put them on me.”

Your breath catches on something in your chest, hooked by the bait he’s dangled. Boots in hand, you sink to your knees at his feet. One by one, slowly, savoring it, you slip the shoes onto his feet. 

It’s your turn to catch his breath. Unprompted, you give each a kiss to the top of the toe. His hand finds your head and holds you there as he marvels down at you, the lights framing him like some dark entity rising from the horizon. You’re captivated, utterly and irrevocably. 

And so is he.

title from "Little Devotional" by Taking Back Sunday (which is how you know it's a make it hurt verse story lmao)

[dailyeffectiveprayer]

Open up your Bible and you’ll never find a scripture that instructs you to feel guilty. Repentance for what you did is one thing, but guilt is a whole other thing. There’s a huge difference between feeling convicted by God and feeling condemned by the devil. (pray to rightly divide God's Word)

[superbdonutpoetry]

Learning Christ

Ephesians 4:13Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ: 1 Timothy 2:4Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth. Summed up: (1) Be saved, and (2) learn Christ according to the mystery. Salvation is a once-off transation. We are saved by…

[loventian]

Touchstarved character name meanings!

Lemme preface this by saying I’m not a name meanings expert I just love crawling through google pages and over analyzing things ALSO to make sure the results weren’t influenced by fandom everything here is from pre-2020! With that let’s get into things!

Mhin:

Mhin is a little bit tricky, as I can’t find anything for their name spelled as it is. Min, however, has several different sources and meanings.

In Chinese, Min (敏) meanings “quick, clever, sharp” Which seems rather fitting for our neighborhood soulless hunter. An alternative script for Min (民) translates to “people, citizens” which could have some interesting implications, as Mhin is implied to have strong connections to the city of Lovent.

In Burmese Min means “king, ruler” which, connected with the second Chinese translation, could perhaps be some foreshadowing? We don’t know how Mhin is connected to Lovent, but the city must have had a ruling class, perhaps Mhin held a position of power? It could also be why they survived, and which a powerful curse nonetheless

Finally, in Irish Min is said to mean “smooth, fine, small”, though I can’t find as many sources on this one. I include it because people have pointed out Mhin’s cloak pins are triquetra, which are Celtic symbols.

Kuras:

Please know I adore Kuras when I say this, but he really got the short end of the naming stick it seems. The most promising thing I can find is the usage as a Hindi surname, which doesn’t seem to have a meaning listed. If you remove the S and go with Kura, it can mean “river” in Turkish or possibly “fierceness, tiger” in Japanese.

Now here’s the silly translations! In Arabic, Kuras (كراس) seems to translate to brochure. In polish, it translates to chicken.

I truly doubt the devs thought brochure/chicken were good labels for the dear doctor, so I’m favoring the Turkish translation. Mostly because Eridia is a city divided by a river; could there be something deeper hidden in there? Maybe!

Ais:

So clearly Ais has a lot of Japanese influence, with his design being inspired by Oni, so I looked for those possible translations first. Ai (愛) translates to love in Japanese, and is typically used as a broader term to refer to emotions tied to like compassion, empathy, or platonic forms of love (as opposed to 恋/koi which refers to romantic love).

I’m gonna focus on this translation for a bit. Someone on a translation forum phrased it in a way I really love: “Ai” is something you do or give. Ais is our introduction to the Seaspring, and to groupminds in general. While the concept of a hivemind is usually used in horror as a way of taking away agency, the Seaspring is framed as a refuge for people to turn to. Could Ais’ name be an allusion to a goal he keeps hidden? Is the Seaspring a manifestation of a desire to give love despite the violent world? Or am I just reading into this too deep?

Vere:

Vere actually has a straight up name meaning! Most of the sources I found say that Vere is a French/Gaulish name meaning “Alder”, and it usually pops up in the surname “De Vere”. Alders are a kind of bitch tree, and I have no idea how that tie into Vere as a character.

But if we take “Vere” as a word rather then a name, then Latin translates it as meaning “truly, really, actually, rightly”. Vere’s introduction to us is as someone to not trust, a cunning fox waiting for the next meal, stealing our darn room key and lying about it! So I find it really interesting that his name could be a word for truth. Perhaps before his chains Vere was someone a lot more truthful ?

Leander:

Big shout out to Leander for having a plain ass easy to translate name. I’ll give you googles exact definition here: "lion of a man", from leon, "lion", and andros, "man".

That was easy, so now let’s pick it apart!

Traditionally, lions are symbols of nobility, courage, strength, and protection. Leander has a reputation for being That Guy; he’s a leader, a protector of the masses, etc etc. for all intents and purposes, Leander really is a lion of a man!

…On the surface at least. Because under all the symbolism, lions are still predators, no matter how noble.