#the righteous will see the kingdom of Heaven

[yeslordmyking]

Genesis 3:15 — Today's Verse for Friday, March 15, 2024

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

(ep8 spoilers ahead!)

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a king who honoured Truth.

He was as gentle as a lamb, as pure as driven snow, as warm as sunlight, and his citizens revered him for these qualities. His Truth was his kindness and his hope, and he was said to be able to heal a Cookie of all their woes and pain with a single touch, so blessed by the heavens he was.

Unfortunately, his Truth was no armour, and eventually it became a blade that turned against him. His soft heart failed to protect his kingdom when disaster fell like a fog over it, thick with malice, and those citizens who once revered him came to despise those very same traits they once praised.

The king of Truth, as gentle as a coward, as pure as a martyr, as warm as the remnants of his burning kingdom. The king, dismayed by his Truth failing him, had little idea of what to do as his citizens abandoned him, one by one until only he remained.

One day, a wise scholar happened upon the shell of that kingdom and, curious to know its story, he went to visit the king. The king, still at a loss for what to do and hoping the scholar may impart some of his knowledge, freely shared the tale of the kingdom's downfall with a deep sorrow in his voice.

The wise scholar, taking pity on the king, stepped up to the weary silhouette curled in that old throne and said, "Is it not obvious? You should let go of your Truth."

"My Truth?" The king murmured, disbelieving. "I certainly must have misheard you. I have dedicated my life to Truth. I cannot possibly part with it."

"Whyever not? Look at where Truth has lead your life – to complete ruins, hasn't it?" The wise scholar explained, oh so patiently. "It has paid your dedication back with anguish and despair. Why should you live like that? Deceit would be far more merciful to you, and it would surely soothe your poor heart, if you'd let it."

The wise scholar had offered this morsel of Knowledge out of the goodness of his heart, and for a blissful moment, the king considered it. Sadly, the king could not see it as the act of goodwill that it was, too blinded by his own petty pride, restrained by his years of stubborn devotion to the false idol of 'Truth'.

"No, what you have said is a lie meant to mislead me. I can tell, because Deceit drips from your tongue like poison." The king foolishly declares, his face hardening with misplaced determination. "This must be a test sent to me from the Witches, to test my strength, and I will not fail so easi––"

—No, that's not quite right. Let's try again.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a great hero.

This great hero was benevolent, noble and self-righteous, known as a friend and ally to all, but he harboured a dark secret. His Soul Jam, the source of all of his awe-inspiring power, was not wholly his.

Indeed, it had once belonged to an illustrious sorceror, a manifestation of his very soul. But this sorceror had suffered a great injustice under the hands of the fickleminded Witches, and his Soul Jam had been torn asunder. While he had clung fiercely to one half, the other had slipped out of his grasp and fell into the hands of our great hero, the unwitting thief.

Of course, the sorceror came to confront the hero, to claim back what was rightfully his and reunite with the full extent of his power. But the hero was unwilling to give it up, and after much consideration, the sorceror decided to be gracious. He allowed the hero to keep his half of the Soul Jam, granted that he never stray from the sorceror's side.

For a blissful moment, it seemed like this compromise would work well for the both of them. One day, however, the hero approached the sorceror, fidgeting with his long sleeves.

"My Soul Jam calls for yours," The hero admits, soft and careful, "and so too does my soul. Even though I am by your side, it is not enough."

The sorceror smiled, flashing teeth, pleased by the admittance because it proved his emerging hypothesis correct. That the other half of the Soul Jam could not have landed in anyone else's hands but the hero's, for they were meant for each other.

"Then come closer." The sorceror goads, reaching for the hero. "Unite our two halves and become one with me, as it should be."

The hero does, pressing into the sorceror's arms, pushing the softened middles of their Soul Jams together until they begin to merge, light melting into the dark of the sorceror's tight embrace. Truth into the comfort of Deceit.

For a blissful moment, they are together and whole and one.

Then pain bursts through the sorceror's back and he screeches as the hero pushes and stumbles out of his twitching arms. The sorceror's wide, blurry eyes catch on the icy glint of a dagger in the hero's hand, sticky with jam.

The sorceror heaves as his hand scrambles to his own back, finding an open wound weeping thick jam that seeps through his clothes. He starts to taste it, sour on the back of his tongue. Sure enough, the hero had stabbed him in the back with a blade he had hidden in his long sleeves.

The hero stares down at him passively, unremorseful. The sorceror's back burns with gouging pain, and his chest burns with boiling rage, coming up through his teeth in a mighty growl. Jam leaks through his clenched fingers as he curls into himself, his Soul Jam crying in the hollow of his throat, calling for its traitorous other half, ringing, ringing, ringing, RINGING. "YOU--"

—NO! No, no, no, that's not right either, absolutely not. Let's take it from the top, one more time.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a humble shepard.

The shepard was sweet and languid as honey, content in spending his days tending to his vulnerable flock. He had no interest in the world at large, though he welcomed any travellers that passed through with friendliness, making peace in his little meadow.

One day, another shepard, hooded and pale, arrived at the meadow with a single sheep trailing sadly at his heels. He asked for a place to stay for the night, as he had recently lost the rest of the flock to a wolf and, in his grief, took to wandering the lands as a nomad.

The shepard, sweet as he was, agreed. He led the hooded shepard to his flock, where the hooded shepard settled his sheep in for the night. Then, he led the hooded shepard to his little cottage, where the hooded shepard settled himself in for the night, right beside the shepard in his small wooden bed.

Little did the shepard know, the hooded shepard laying beside him was, in reality, a wolfherd. Little did the shepard know, the sheep he had allowed to rest in the comfort of his poor flock was, in reality, a wolf bundled in sheep's wool, trained to behave mildly in the presence of Cookies.

When morning came, the shepard was horrified to find that his flock, which he had dutifully nutured since young, had been eaten whole. The wolfherd's wolf, smeared in red with its woolen disguise hanging off it in sticky clumps, trotted up to its master lazily as the shepard helplessly fell to his knees.

For a blissful moment, there was just the shepard's sobs as his world crumbled around him, ready to be remade.

Then, the wolfherd came up to the miserable shepard and lunged.

He pinned the teary shepard to the damp grass, bathing him in lamb blood as the wolfherd bared his fangs and dug his claws into dough, shedding a disguise of his own.

A thin throat gave way under the wolfherd's teeth, and he discoverd that the shepard really was as sweet as honey, all the way through, as jam spilled into his mouth. He made cracks as the shepard weakly tried to struggle, tearing into his dough in reprimand, in retribution. The shepard deserved it.

He dug into his chest with his wet teeth, pulling out his jammy heart, his pulsing Soul Jam, his writhing soul. He savoured it as he swallowed it whole, as the shepard went obediently still beneath him, because he deserves it, this is his, he is his, and the shepard deserves it too. He deserves it, he DESERVES it, HE DESERVES IT--

—HE DOES, he does, but not quite like that. No, no, something's still off. Maybe a change of angle is needed. A change of perspective.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a liar.

He was beautiful, magnificent in his dark robes and rough around the edges in a captivating way. He watched the world from the top of a spire, looking down on Cookiekind from above with dozens of golden eyes, turning his back on Truth.

The liar was not alone. At his side, and he at his, was the beast that strung the world in shimmering strings, playing the universe like a grand orchestra to seranade his companion. Their power did not just blend harmoniously; it was a singular one, feeding into an endless cycle between the two of them, driven by the thrum of their Soul Jam.

For a blissful forever, they stood together, casting the veil of Deceit over the world, dampening the blistering light of Truth until it coalesced into the shadow of Deceit, becoming what it always should have been. The two of them were unstoppable, bowing to nothing and nobody, rising above it all. They were unstoppable, they could have been, they would have been unstoppable-- IF--

—IF THOSE GNATS HADN'T– IF HE HADN'T–

(Stupid, traitorous, weak fool!)

—No, no, enough, enough, enough. This still isn't getting anywhere. How about this?

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a saint of Truth.

He was blindingly bright, too bright, and he could drive the shadow monsters away with a single swipe of his staff, so radiant was he. And yet, for all his shining power, he was also a complete idiot, driven by his soft, squishy heart.

For instead he cleaved the monster out of the shadow, held out a hand and said, "Let me be your...friend."

Friend. Friend. How ridiculous! Laughable, really, in its absolute stupidity. The saint's eyes were so soft, gentle in contrast to the harsh edge of the light, gooey like melted chocolate, like the saint was doing the monster a favour even though it was the other way around, it was SUPPOSED to be the OTHER WAY AROUND--

—NOPE, no, that's no good either. Come on, what else, what else, what else– aha!

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived an angel.

This angel was once a shepard, once a king, once a hero, once a saint before he ascended to the light of the heavens. He was beautiful and benevolent, warm as sunlight, sweet as honey, blindingly bright and infuriatingly beloved. Until he wasn't.

You see, when the angel had ascended, he had thought that he had risen from the rock bottom of the river. He had foolishly believed that he now knew everything, that he had captured the essence of Knowledge through a brief meeting of two halves of a single Soul Jam.

He hadn't realised that a new rock bottom can always be created – all you need to do is dig.

And so, the demon did, dragging the angel down from the picturesque heavens and back to him, backed by a symphony of screams.

The angel tried to reason with him, with his faulty logic. The angel tried to fight but wouldn't risk crumbling him for good. The angel tried to reach out to him, like he really, truly believed it would work.

In the end, the angel lays crumpled at the demon's feet in a heap, cheeks wet with tears but eyes tired and wild. His painful light dims into something bearable, close to snuffing out entirely, flickering weakly like a candle in the wind.

"You were right." The angel whispers, about his hope, about his kindness, about anything, about everything. "You were right. It was always going to end like this."

And when the angel looks up, it is as if he is giving all of himself to the demon. Properly, this time, no clever tricks even passing his mind. His life and soul forfeit.

There. Perfect.

Shadow Milk sighs, a heavy sound that thickens the air. He is not quite satisfied, because he cannot be, not with his dough crawling with restless viciousness, but he is satisfied enough. With the story, of course. Not with anything else.

Just thinking of that, Shadow Milk scowls, finally looking back down at his hands. He had forgotten about the little plush doll he was holding. It's a cute little replica of Pure Vanilla, small enough to fit neatly into the palms of his hands. He had been fiddling with it for no reason in particular, mostly agitated boredom.

In the midst of his storycrafting, he must have tightened his grip too hard. His claws have ripped its chest in half, stuffing bubbling out of the wound like sea foam.

He stares at it blankly for a moment, claws idly toying with the fluff. Then he narrows his eyes, growls, and twists his claws deeper into the tear.

Lonely, Pure Vanilla had said, with the absolute gall to act like he could read him perfectly. Like he could understand him.

As if! There was no way he understood him, and his new little light show only proved that. Whatever understanding Pure Vanilla thought he had was conjured by his own mind, his poor little heart's attempt to find a peaceful solution. It's like Shadow Milk had told them – in the face of the unknown, Cookies tend to fill in the gaps with whatever fits best with their existing belief system, and what they want to believe is true.

Shadow Milk huffs, finally pulling his claws out of the Pure Vanilla doll. It's a sad looking thing, droopy with the lost stuffing. He considers it for a moment, before gingerly beginning to push the stuffing back in, tuft by tuft.

There is one thing Pure Vanilla got right, though. He really is the only one with the potential to truly understand Shadow Milk. He was close to it, even, tantalisingly close before he pulled himself back out again, but he hadn't gotten there yet.

Shadow Milk knows that he hasn't. Because Shadow Milk knows what it will take to get him there, and it involves tearing him to shreds–

Shadow Milk summons old marionette strings, now mostly unused, and begins to sew up the open chest of the doll with lazy flicks of his finger. Despite the casual movement, the stitches are precise and perfect. Once he's done, the doll looks almost as good as new, but inarguably altered.

—before fixing him back up in Shadow Milk's design.

Only then would Pure Vanilla really be able to understand Shadow Milk. Only then would Shadow Milk believe it.

Shadow Milk rubs his thumb over the doll's cheek, something ugly twisting in his chest. His claws twitch, eager to tear the doll apart again, to have an outlet, but he refrains because he does have self-control and he just fixed it.

Instead, he lifts the doll up and presses a kiss to the little stitched star on its forehead. No, not a kiss. It's more like a curse, a harsh press of lips with the slightest snarl of teeth, with enough pressure to create a dent in its soft head.

Yes, this isn't the end. They have eternity, after all. The wait may be agonising, but eventually, he'll understand him. Shadow Milk will make sure of it.

The something in his chest loosens just slightly, as if relieved.

[juricel]

OML I got this idea stuck in my damn brain like-

Reader aka us, being the ruler of the cookie kingdom (the kingdom we currently own as the player), and Shadow Milk Cookie begging to be let in the kingdom because he wanted to cause silly danger and more mischief (in his corruption), to only fall in love with us (could potentially become a yandere but up to you) after a few days/weeks of meeting.

Like - reader as very sweet, calm and cool that made SMC fall hard in love for them ? 💙🩵

a/n: don't know about everyone else, but me, personally, if I see shadow milk cookie begging to be let in my kingdom, I'd be more than willing to take him in... need to promote him to 2 stars...

— yandere! jester! shadow milk cookie x ruler! reader

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: yandere themes, psychological and emotional manipulation, gaslighting, coercion, toxic relationships, extreme possessiveness, obsession, mind-breaking, corruption, shadow milk cookie is a cunt, slow-burn destruction, degradation, despair, entrapment, dependency, unhealthy power dynamics, existential horror, and dark romanticization of suffering, its written in shadow milk perspective so it's romanticized, potential ooc.

𖦁 above the high tower—so pristine, so sickeningly pure—a utopia. a kingdom balanced on the trembling fulcrum of equality, on the polished illusion of prosperity, on that laughable dream of heaven. when first he heard of it, he scoffed, a knowing little chuckle curling at the edge of his lips. a kingdom so spotless was a kingdom awaiting its first stain. a place so righteous, so unbearably good, was nothing more than a stage trembling in anticipation of its first act of sin. and if corruption was its fate—oh, the sweet, inexorable pull of ruin—then why not be the hand that guides it? the first dark filament woven into its tapestry, the first exquisite crack in its porcelain? for after all, what greater pleasure was there than watching a kingdom of splendor crumble? to witness the slow unraveling, the first fractures lacing through their golden foundations, the hesitant, horrified realization dawning in their wide, unspoiled eyes? a bliss; the way grandeur rots from within, the way righteousness sours into desperation. It was always such fun, never failing to elicit a laughter from his lips—to watch their heaven buckle under the weight of its own impossible promises, to see their shining citadel collapse into the very ruin they swore could never touch them.

𖦁 at first, that was his sole plan—a swift, merciless tainting, a single decisive stroke to mar their pristine dream. but ah, immediate corruption lacked artistry, lacked finesse, and it was certainly not his modus operandi. no, no, he was not some blunt force of ruin, some crude agent of chaos. his was a subtler touch, a patient, insidious creeping of decay. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to let the rot seep in slowly, to let the kingdom sip its own poison drop by drop? after all, a thing does not truly break unless it first believes itself unbroken. and what was the first step to that, but to endear the ruler? to weave himself into their favor, to become the whispered counsel at their ear, the trusted shadow at their side? a kingdom so pure, so blissfully naïve, would never suspect the serpent if it spoke in honeyed tones, if it coiled itself in silken loyalty. let them trust him, let them open their gates, their hearts, their very souls. corruption was sweetest when it was invited in. and so he did; draped himself in the garb of mirth, painted his deception in bright, foolish colors. a performer, a jester—a harmless thing, a trinket for amusement, a creature of capers and laughter. how naturally it all fell into place, how perfectly the pieces clicked. he acted, he jested, he spun his illusions like golden thread, and just as he had anticipated—just as he had orchestrated—one day, you finally took notice. one day, you plucked him from the streets and placed him at your side: as your personal jester.

𖦁 Calm, composed, tender—a ruler carved from the finest marble, whose very breath seemed to hold the delicate rhythm of a perfect, untroubled reign. An embodiment of a perfect ruler, both to his twisted sense of definition and in the term followers coined; a sovereign that ruled with grace and collection, one who will choose peace of their own kingdom rather than theirs, and most importantly, a sovereign exquisite to break, a monarch to watch crumble apart at the seams. With an oh-so-frail hands, he slowly fed you poison, feeding you sweet lullabies lies with every single time he invited himself to your court, yet with such gentleness, such tender adoration, you hardly noticed the slow, treacherous drip of it into your veins. His touch was light, his voice a soothing lullaby, his eyes a mirror to your own desires, reflecting the very world he had already begun to fracture. You laughed in his presence, you adored him as a child adores the fool who dances for their amusement, never suspecting the subtle malice woven beneath the laughter. You were the imperator, crowned and naive, and he—oh, he was no more than a jester, a trickster, a soft-spoken destroyer. He seeped in, unnoticed, beneath the cloak of love, until the kingdom you ruled had turned to ash. Every moment he spent by your side, every gentle word he whispered, drew you closer to the inevitable end. He was not the harbinger of doom, merely its messenger, and you, sweet sovereign, had already embraced the fall—he wasn't cruel! no, far from it, he was simply speeding up the process of your fate.

𖦁 Piece by piece, the delicate order of your kingdom crumbled, the carefully woven threads of control slipping, unraveling into the quiet chaos that waited with open arms. It was such a quiet delight, watching your face—watching the once-imperious set of your features soften, grow fragile. His sweet darling, his imperator—did you enjoy his performance? His quiet theatrics? The way he danced so close to your frail soul, each movement a deliberate stroke in the masterpiece of your undoing? Your laughter—so exquisite, so heartbreakingly tender—spilled into the air like the final note of a dying melody, trembling before fading into something unrecognizable. No longer the regal, composed mirth of a ruler, but something frayed at the edges, something raw, something slipping through your fingers before you could grasp what had changed. And he watched, oh, how he watched, as each delicate layer of your serenity cracked, one by one. And just as he had foreseen, you sought refuge in him—clinging, desperate, drawn to the very hands that had undone you. You needed him, craved the sweet poisons he fed you, each drop a fleeting reprieve from the reality gnawing at the edges of your soul and who was he but a sweet jester, a silken-tongued fool draped in motley mirth? After all, you were his dearest majesty, sovereign of his affections, and if such a luminous crown sought more of his quaint little revels, if those imperial fingers curled, ever so faintly, in silent demand—ah, how could he deny you? You were his to break, and break you he did—so gently, so tenderly, so exquisitely.

𖦁 And ah, how utterly darling you were like that—weren’t you meant to be the perfect ruler, the unshaken sovereign, the very pillar upon which your kingdom stood? But worry not! For he, your ever-faithful jester, would always be there to lift your spirits, to coo and fawn and wrap you in the silken embrace of his honeyed falsehoods. Sweetly, tenderly, he guided your gaze away from the creeping decay, his fingers featherlight as they covered your eyes, his touch a gentle shroud over the truth he was so lovingly unraveling. He was your jester, your fool, a puppet crafted for your amusement, a plaything meant to make you laugh—yet, oh, how beautifully the strings had tangled. For here you were, trembling beneath him, his sweet little sovereign, his fragile darling, lost and despairing, just as you were always meant to be. He yearned to keep you just like this—to clutch the dying breath of your laughter, to sink his fingers into it and squeeze until nothing remained but the broken echoes of something once bright. But joy was meaningless, a trinket easily shattered; no, the true rapture, the thing that set his soul alight, was your despair, your ruin, the exquisite tremor in your breath as realization crawled through your mind like a slow, cold hand. Oh, how he adored the way your smile faltered, how he savored the flicker of fear in those celestial eyes, the way your very soul seemed to wither beneath his touch. You were his masterpiece, your suffering a symphony, each fragile crack in your spirit a note in the melody he had composed with such tender cruelty. Your radiant smile, your trembling gaze—how divine they were, poised at the very edge of oblivion. And oh, how perfect you would be, entombed in eternity, frozen forever in that exquisite moment of collapse. Never whole again, never beyond his reach, never anything but his—his to twist, his to shatter, his to own. No one else could have you. No one else would understand. No one else deserved to witness the fragile, broken thing he had so carefully sculpted. You were his—his ruin, his darling, his little sovereign—forever and only his.

𖦁 Oh, but do not misunderstand him! He loved you, loved you wholly, the way a flame loves the fragile moth that it lures, the way a poet loves the ink that stains his trembling hands. Your gentleness, your calm, your measured poise—these he cherished, yes, these he cradled in the hollow of his palms like something sacred. But oh, his love, what he adored—no, what he worshipped—was that part of you which most repulsed yourself. The cracks, the stains, the lovely little rot that clung to your soul like mold upon marble. Your cruddy, your ruin, the decay that softened your edges into something closer—ah, so much closer—to his own. It was in that wretchedness that he found divinity; it was in your unbecoming that he saw you, at last, becoming his, a reflection of himself. He wanted you broken, petrified, stripped of all that made you whole. But don’t be so upset, won’t you? This was your fate, after all—etched into the marrow of your bones long before you could protest. You were blinded, drunk on the illusions of heaven and prosperity, stumbling through the gilded halls of your own self-deceit. And being the good little jester that he was, ever so devoted to his craft, he helped you out—by corrupting you, warping you, twisting your kingdom into a grotesque parody of its former glory. A kindness, really. A mercy.

a/n: one thing that you can always trust me to do is that if it is possible to include yandere! shadow milk cookie, i WILL include him but i do feel like its starting to get repetitive. also, just woke up after finishing writing this in the middle of the night and i just realized how far this was from the requester's request but... the damage is already done, somebody kill me NOW.

[christianloveinthetimeoftrump]

I feel like a madwoman when I read the news sometimes. When I see what is being done in the name of Christ. How are they reading the same book as me? Jesus says it is easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven, but we have given the keys to the kingdom to rich men. Jesus says whatever you have done to the least of these you have done to me, now we stoke disgust against the most vulnerable to gain more power. Scapegoating young children, as you weaponize fear to further your pursuit of ever more wealth and power. How does loving your neighbor mean pulling them away from their family? I want to scream and shout and knock down doors. This is the taking of the lord’s name in vain. They dress themselves in the cloak of Christianity while shirking Christ's call to grace, and spit in the eye of a lord of humility and generosity. 

When I  watch the news I think this must be how Jesus felt when he overturned the tables. I want to tear it all down. This is the righteous indignation they could never understand, not a facade to cover up my hatred. The pain of a heart longing to follow the prince of peace in a world of hate.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

idk if you take anon requests but I am in love with Yandere ruthless and bloodthirsty Pirate captain who's obsessed with a princess from a small kingdom and takes her as wife in exchange for not plundering the kingdom and bleeding out their resources. He had planned for their first evening together to be romantic but she looks too tempting when she's frightened

🌹

CW: Extremely rough smut, sadistic behavior, bodily harm, knife play, blood, minor character death, dead dove

Edward listened to two of his crew members gossiping like handmaidens, feeling only mildly annoyed at their squawking. Usually by now he would have threatened to pull out their teeth to keep them quiet, but he secretly could understand their excitement. While pirates were blamed for anything that could go wrong on the open seas, they were actually often employed by nobility to do what their navies could not do legally. Still, it was a surprise to be extended a job offer from a large kingdom, considering Edward's notoriety.

Edward "The Living Death".

There wasn't a crew as fearsome as his. He had never worked for any of the self righteous kings or queens in the past who conscripted pirates for their aid, not because he thought too highly of himself, but because the stories of his wrath scared all the rich bastards away. And the stories were not exaggerations. Edward aimed to make himself the most terrible in the world, because while it was too late to ever be let into heaven, it wasn't too late to become powerful enough to kill Satan himself.

For an entire week the crew would be guests in the sea side kingdom, while The Living Death and two of his men would be welcomed into the castle for negotiations.

It was entertaining, being welcomed onto a king's land, and Edward was curious as to what King was so insane as to ask for his assistance, knowing that Edward was the type of man to torture sailors for sport.

The ship with black sails tied off on the dock of the grey and dull harbor. Although the carriage that awaited Edward was gaudy with its elaborate engravings, the buildings were drab and pitiful. Truly, a thriving kingdom. And the large castle that towered above the impoverished residents was just the icing on the cake. To enter the grounds a large gate had to be slowly opened, physically alienating the royals from their subjects.

The attendant waiting to take Edward and his mates to the study felt his jaw fall agape at the sight of the men. What parts of their bodies were visible were covered in deep scars, the men were large and intimidating, but the leader was almost inhumanly frightening, unnaturally blue eyes that almost looked blind pierced his soul through a mop of shaggy black hair.

Edward met with the king for introductions, however was politely dismissed to the rooms they would be staying in for a bath and meal, promising to begin negotiations the next day.

However, he couldn't expect pirates to do as he asked so blindly, so after his shower and a free change of clothes, Edward decided to wander the gardens, internally arguing with himself over what he is doing in a king's estate. Then he saw her.

A woman in a beautiful, yet simple, dress was being followed by a maid, chatting kindly with one another despite the class difference. From afar her voice touched something in Edward's spirit; a longing he hadn't been able to quench on the ocean.

Marilyn tensed up and fell back behind (Reader) where she was supposed to be, generally. (Reader) looked ahead to see what had frightened her handmaid, and witnessed a man she did not know approaching the both of them.

"Greetings, ladies." His voice was gravelled and exhausted, tugging on (Reader's) heartstrings. From under the stranger's freshly washed hair (Reader) could see a long scar between his eyes, matching the scars that littered the hand he offered to (Reader).

"Good sir." (Reader), without hesitation, responded with an extended hand. Marilyn audibly choked behind her, having to physically bite her tongue to prevent herself from shouting at the man to 'step off!'

Wind burnt lips kissed the back of (Reader's) hand, holding it for an inappropriate amount of time, yet (Reader's) expression of genuine kindness never changed. "You clearly do not know who I am." Although it was said with a smirk his tone was dangerous.

"Just as you clearly do not know of me." (Reader) held herself tall, praying that the man before her was not important enough to feel offended by her ignorance.

Edward's eyes sparkled beautifully as he straightened his back, as to tower over the lovely lady he had just met. The movement shifted his hair, better showcasing not only his eyes but the giant scar stretching from his hairline to the bridge of his nose. "I am here on business."

"What a coincidence." (Reader) smiled coyly. "As am I."

What is this feeling? Edward had many effects on women, fear, disgust, loathing, lust. But the smile on (Reader's) face was honest. Like a child who hasn't yet learned to fear the evils of men, her eyes were clear and unclouded, looking not at his scars, but his eyes; numb to the stench of blood he could never scrub himself clean of, the lamb had no clue she was speaking to a wolf, and he wasn't even in disguise.

"What kind of business does a lady have with a disgusting fool like this king?"

(Reader) gasped, taken back by his words, smiling nervously behind her fan. "Good sir, you just be careful with the way you speak about a king! I will not report you, but others shall not be so kind.." Concern laced her words as she searched the surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"The King knew who I was when he hired me, so he shouldn't be offended by my language."

"Still..." (Reader) sighed. "Well, if you are so curious, I'm here because of a marriage proposition."

"Marriage?" The idea irked Edward, and he had to hold back his hand from almost instinctively lashing out. What a strange reaction, feeling peeved over the possible engagement of a woman he's just met.

"Indeed, strange isn't it? I always knew marriage would one day come, but.. it is still quite the adventure." Her grin tightened, but it wasn't a happy smile, the expression felt more like a mother's attempt to console her frightened child.

There was an odd glow to (Reader's) eyes, and Edward was suddenly under the impression that the woman before him was secretly an angel, sent in disguise to test him, to see if Edward truly did long for the throne of hell. Again, his arm tried to move on it's own accord. What if, instead of allowing such an angel to return to heaven with her report on him, he caged her like a little song bird and ripped off her wings?

"I apologize, Miss, but I must cut our conversation short. Any longer and I might gouge out your eyes." Edward spoke with a smile, revealing his sharpened canines. But again, (Reader) surprised him, giggling back at him as though he had just made a light-hearted joke, while her maid behind her was grasping her breast like she was having a heart attack.

"Well, I shall keep a spoon in my pocket in case we need again!" (Reader's) laughter filled the garden.

She curtsied, back still straight and head dipped only as low to be polite. The maid, on the other hand, was practically folded in half and was bent down for so long she had to scurry after her lady.

As the mystery woman left, Edward had a lot of strange, foreign thoughts and feelings causing chaos in his mind and heart. He briefly fantasized about running after her, and taking her for himself behind a bush while her maid screamed for help. He had seen plenty of women's bodies before, but the fantasy of what could be hidden by his mystery lady's bodice was.. tantalizing.

Would she be impressed by his body? Or fearful? What kind of face would she make as he forced her to carry his children? Would she look at him with love and tenderness during the birth of their first born? Would she bite and scream and fight?

Edward discovered that he would have to return to his room prematurely, perplexed as to who that woman was, and why she had such an effect on him, causing an arousal despite not saying, or doing, anything sexually exciting.

Marilyn smacked her princess on the shoulder, red in the face and mouth frozen in horror. "My lady! I can't believe you!"

"What? Did my joke not make sense?" (Reader) asked in earnest. "I said I'd carry a spoon, so he had something to easily scoop my eyes out with."

"Not that, you-you- IMBECILE!" Marilyn cried out, grasping the lady she adored like a sister. "That man was The Living Death!"

"Oh. He didn't look dead to me." Another slap connected with the back of her neck.

"He was a pirate! A pirate!"

"A pirate? What was he doing here?" (Reader) nervously pondered, examining her maid's expression to see if she was pulling her leg.

"I don't know, but you should write a letter to your father immediately. No good man would want his daughter marrying into a family that deals with rotten apples."

After the sun rose into the dreary kingdom, Edward and his mates were finally invited into King Nikolai's study, meeting the rotund bastard who reeked of wine and pulled at his codpiece frequently.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today, gentlemen. You've saved me from an uncomfortable situation. That is, if you agree to my request."

"Well, let's not make this longer than necessary." Edward spat in disgust, feeling as though he would catch syphilis from just speaking with his potential employer.

"My son, my heir, has two marriage candidates. Two worthy marriage candidates. My friend, King Leopold has a, frankly stupid, daughter, Princess Cadence. Leopold and I decided long ago that his daughter should marry my son, and become queen when he surpasses me. Now the issue is King Dretious. His kingdom is.. small, but not unimpressive. It thrives wonderfully. He has only two daughters, pitiful him. The eldest is being trained to be his successor, which is wonderful for him since he was blessed with bright and charismatic daughters, but no man who marries her well become King, so there is no incentive there to send even my sons I dislike. The youngest, is a perfect marriage candidate. Princess (Reader). Intelligent, charming, attractive.." He took a ragged breath, his mind traveling to where it should not. "I desire her land. If she marry my son I'd have access as family to her resources, and in a generation or two my grandchildren could gain control of that little rock. But it isn't worth ruining my relationship with Leopold. That would be.. catastrophic."

Edward numbly wondered if the young woman he met was Princess Cadence, or Princess (Reader). In the short time he spent with her she certainly didn't seem stupid, so he was leaning towards the latter.

"But I want that land. Do you understand me?" King Nikolai's smile was sinister. "You can have whatever is in their castle, whatever can be looted, as long as I receive the deeds to their nation, signed and stamped, and King Dretious and his kin are exterminated."

"And what do we get? If I wanted to plunder a small country, I could do that without needing permission."

"Full, under the table, immunity, as well as enough money for you and your crew to retire in the Caribbean as lords." He was so smug as he pleaded his bargain that Edward considered killing him just to see him choke on his own blood.

Edward stood, walking around the king towards the window, debating whether or not it would be worth it to kill the fat asshole right then and there. But below the window, under a flowered tree, sat the woman he met the day before, watching birds as they flew overhead. "I met a young lady in the garden yesterday. She said she was here for a marriage proposition."

"Hmph, yes.. attractive, isn't she? That would have been Princess (Reader). She is unaware of her competition with Leopold's daughter, so it would have been unwise to have them both here at the same time."

(Reader) had her lips pursed, upset about something. 'How would those lips taste?' Edward thought excitedly.

"We'll do it." Edward spoke loudly, startling his men who were surprised by the boss's response.

His men questioned him on the way back to the ship. Surely he wasn't serious? Of course not... Captain Edward "The Living Death", the man who abandoned his family name, had a plan, one that he had come up with purely for selfish reasons, that did not include sucking up to a disease ridden rat. And he assured them, that after he got what he wanted, the crew would return, and burn King Nikolai's kingdom to the ground.

The wonderfully jolly, soft King Dretious, known for being unlike the cruel kings who ruled throughout the land, plump with age instead of greed, was petrified solid. The elderly father who was seen as a grandfather figure to his small island, blessed by the gods to always have the wisdom to do what was right, was stunned, incapable of coherent thought. Before him was a pirate captain who had demanded an audience, two months after his darling baby girl returned home from another country.

"What did you just say?" He stuttered out.

Edward stood beneath the kindly king sitting on his throne while wearing an ostentatiously decorated black frock coat, shining with it's abundance of gold decorations and precious jewels. His unnaturally bright eyes were fixated on the mortified princess standing behind her father.

"I have been hired to bring ruin to your kingdom. However, if you offer me a better prize than what I was promised by my employer, I'll reconsider my agreement with him." His gaze made (Reader's) skin crawl.

King Dretious swallowed the lump in his throat. "And what would that be? Whoever had the gall to request such a reason clearly had the resources to hire you, so I doubt anything of mine will compare."

"True. However, it isn't your money I'm after.." Edward stepped forward, still fixated on the younger princess will a hungry expression.

The eldest sister recognized the look of a predatory man before her father did, and stepped in front of (Reader) in a protective stance.

"I demand Princess (Reader's) hand in marriage."

"No!" The eldest princess spun around, grabbing onto (Reader) and hiding her within her embrace. "Father, you can't!"

"Please, Captain, isn't there anything else?" The King frantically begged, knowing that his army wasn't enough against The Living Death and his infamous crew of the damned.

Edward sighed, his patience wearing thin. With a snap of his fingers, his men brought forward four captives; the cook, two guards, and Marilyn. "Let's try that again." The demon spawn pulled out a gun and cocked it, aiming it at the older guard.

"Let's be civil-"

The King was cut off by a loud shot, killing the innocent man who had been a loyal employee of the castle for the past thirteen years. (Reader) hollered, frightened by the sudden bang.

Edward moved over to Marilyn, pulling down the hammer slowly. "No!" (Reader) burst free from her sister, running down the steps to fling herself onto her only friend's body, ready to be her shield.

"(Reader)!"

(Reader) cradled her maid, glaring through tears up at the man she foolishly thought was handsome only a couple of months ago. "I'LL DO IT! I'll do it! Just please.. no more."

Marilyn sobbed under (Reader's) weight. "Princess, no! Please - save yourself!"

"Sister, come back here now." The queen to be demanded, shaking and on the brink of tears herself.

Edward smiled wider than before, holstering his weapon. "Wise choice, angel." He turned his attention back to the King. "I hope you don't mind that there will be no wedding. For you see, God has no place in my life, even for happy occasions. I've already procured a marriage contract, so once it is signed that shall be that."

A calloused hand reached out to the princess.

"Shall we?"

The country was in mourning as the news of the princess's sacrifice spread faster than a plague, and nearly the entire country arrived to see her off as she boarded the pirate ship with black sails, stiffly shuffling next to her new husband, the certificate signed and verified only an hour prior. On what should be one's happiest day, the air was filled with sounds of heart breaking agony. (Reader) was numbly dragged onto the ship and into the captain's quarters, no longer a princess, but a wife to a monster.

Edward locked the door behind them, smiling wolfishly. "Welcome, to your new home, darling. Unfortunately, we will have to prolong our honeymoon, as I have a country to conquer."

"What?!" (Reader) collapsed before her new husband, clutching onto his shirt. "But you promised!"

"Ah, apologies, love, but I did not mean your old country." He pulled her onto her feet, kissing her knuckles. "I meant the country that asked me to kill you. Now that you are my wife, I can't stand for such insolence, now can I?"

(Reader) pulled away, eyes wide with disgust. "Was this your plan from the start? If you never truly cared, then why take me? Whatever loot you plunder from whoever it was that employed you will surely be worth more than my father's entire island, so if you had no qualms about taking on a presumably larger nation-state, then why?"

"You are a smart one." Edward chuckled, approaching (Reader) with a look she had never seen before, yet for some reason set her on edge. "I did it because I wanted you."

He lunged, tackling her onto a large bed covered in silk and furs. She struggled, fighting with all her might to push him off of her, but she just wasn't strong enough. (Reader) bit her lip in an effort to not cry again, a pitiful attempt to retain her pride.

"So strange.. I have had whores throw themselves at me many times in the past, but they were nothing but bodies. What is it about you that is so different?"

Nothing but bodies.. (Reader) had learned from Marilyn what happens on a woman's wedding night, but in the chaos of her marriage she had forgotten that that was what this was, her wedding night. Her face fell, tears whelmed up in her puffy red eyes, and her resolve to look brave cracked.

But this expression seemed to only excite the mad man further. His blue eyes grew hazy like he was drunk and his breathing became irregular. "So that's what you would look like.. I wondered."

A large knife was procured from behind his back, causing (Reader) to cry harder. With sadistically slow movements he cut through her dress. She made pathetic attempts to swipe at him, but Edward only responded by effortlessly flipping her onto her belly, slicing through the lace of her corset.

"So many layers to finally see the body I've been dreaming of. That will change, of course. If I want to see your beauty, I will. Even if you must live in the nude."

He ignored her screams as he tore off every article of clothing she wore, leaving (Reader) naked and shivering beneath him.

"Is it me that makes you shudder like this, or is it," he placed the blade against (Reader's) cheek, earning another gasp as her body practically convulsed, "either way, I'll pretend that your shaking is in excitement for me."

With (Reader) now on her back, Edward held the knife to her throat to prevent her from running while he removed his own clothing with one hand. Her sobs only grew louder as more of his scarred skin became visible.

"Please do-don't do this!"

"Don't what? Make love to my newlywed wife? Fine then. I'll fuck you instead."

His pants slipped down, revealing his fully erect manhood. (Reader) closed her eyes in shame, but Edward grabbed her face with enough force to bruise her chin, snapping them back open in shock of the pain.

"Look at what you've done to me. Without grabbing at my pants and begging me like a slut, you've already made my cock like this. Don't you feel special, knowing that you have that effect on your husband." Edward continued squeezing his bride's face painfully, forcing her to nod in agreement.

The tip of the knife drug down her skin without enough pressure to cut, but enough for (Reader) to feel the cold threat tingling and creating goosebumps, traveling teasingly from her breasts and over her quivering stomach, stopping at her exposed cunny. (Reader) felt the metal touch her where she was told never to touch herself, and was consumed by humiliation.

"Unfortunately for you, it seems that your modest body has not prepared itself for me. I would have taken the time to wetten your cunt, but as per your request, I am not to make love to you, but to fuck you."

"What does that-" a searing pain electrocuted her body as (Reader's) dry pussy was stretched over Edward's dick. Her throat was aching from all the screaming, but that didn't stop the sounds of agony from shrieking out.

He held himself inside of her, relishing in the feeling of her twitching hole tightening almost unbearably around him. For a brief moment, Edward's heart swelled with love, and he considered licking his fingers to provide his wife with lubrication, but the look on her face.. just from entering her (Reader) became so red she was almost purple, eyes flickering as though she were to pass out. It was too beautiful for words.

As he pulled out it caused an awful friction that (Reader) swore she could hear, an awful shuk shuk shuk as Edward removed himself, only to slam back in. It felt like she was being torn apart. He continued thrusting into her rapidly swelling sacred place. The tearing sensation morphed into a burning one, as her blood slickened her hole.

His movements only sped up, pounding into his bruised and bloody princess. (Reader) began to adjust to the pain, and started to push against Edward's chest, desperate enough to fight against him despite his knife still being held to her thigh.

Suddenly, (Reader's) legs were raised and folded back, pressing down into her arms to prevent her from moving. She pulled and struggled, disgusted by the wet noise as Edward's hips connected with hers, uncomfortably aware of his pelvis grinding against her sore clit. Edward grabbed her face again, popping her jaw open and sliding his knife into her mouth.

"Don't struggle, or you just might cut out your tongue." The man threatened, his malicious words clashing with the intense lust in his eyes.

(Reader's) nose scrunched up as she tried to glare at Edward, unable to spit out the knife because of his hold on her face.

"Ah, continue looking at me like that!" He sang with praise, his legs twitching with anticipation. "I'm about to cum!"

(Reader) didn't quite know what that meant, but she could feel him throbbing inside of her.

"I was going to wait until you've gotten used to being my wife, but I think I'm going to cum inside you! Fuck, I'm going to put my babies in you! I'm going to knock you up!"

Learning what was about to happen, (Reader) tried to scream without bumping the knife in her teeth.

Suddenly, the knife was thrown across the room, replaced by Edward's lips, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth as he climaxed deep in his wife's raw pussy. (Reader) didn't know if it was because she was aware that he was cumming inside of her, or if it was because of the paper thin cuts along her vaginal wall, but the fluid pumping into her was horrendously hot, burning her abused body.

He collapsed onto her, still kissing her passionately, tasting the lips he had craved since he first met her. When Edward pulled away, admiring the unbroken string of saliva connecting him to his lover, he knew why he had been so enamored with (Reader) since the beginning.

"I'm so excited to drag you down into hell with me, princess." 'There will be no escape from me. You are my gift from Satan, my little angel. You belong to me.'

[darlingpoppet]

Where The Dead Forget — Chapter 8: Glory

Hades Gameverse Memory Loss AU | Achilles/Patroclus | E | Chapters: 8/22 | Words: 87,923 (Ch 8: 16,680) words)

Chapter 8 Summary: A treatment of the Scyros episode from the Achilles myths. Patroclus is called upon to honor his allegiance to war, and Achilles is keen to join him, for the sake of love and glory. His mother Thetis, however, has different plans.

Excerpt:

“Father,” Achilles began, “We have been told there are tidings you wish to share with us.”

“Indeed,” Peleus said. “I have called you both here—however, these are matters that primarily concern Patroclus.”

Next to Achilles, Patroclus’ bowed head lifted.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Peleus answered him. “I have just gotten word of a disturbing incident out of Sparta—a grievous crime in violation of the sacred customs of hospitality. Prince Paris, son of Priam of Troy, has abducted Queen Helen, the wife of Menelaus, son of Atreus. And since Helen’s former suitors from all over our kingdoms had sworn by oath to honor and protect their union, King Menelaus, along with his older brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, have called upon all those men bound by that oath to assist in ensuring Helen’s safe return to her rightful place.”

Achilles turned to Patroclus, astonished by this news. Patroclus, however, did not seem to notice him. He lowered his head once more, closing his eyes as a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Ah,” he said simply.

“They intend to wage war against Troy?” Achilles asked, turning back to address his father. “And you mean to tell us that they wish for Patroclus to join them? Because—“ he blinked, quickly putting the pieces together, “—because he is among those who made the oath?”

“That is correct,” Peleus answered.

Achilles turned again to Patroclus. “I did not know of this.” He hoped his tone did not come off as aggrieved, even if he did feel a considerable degree of shock.

Patroclus looked back at him, his expression solemn, but strained.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to keep any more secrets from you. The truth is, it is something I simply did not think would ever come to pass, so I had put it out of my mind completely. I was so young then—not even ten—I had petitioned for Helen’s hand at my father’s behest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I did not have a choice back then… and it appears I do not have a choice in the matter now, either. So I shall go, and honor my duty. I suppose since I am no longer a prince, it is simpler this way. I have no army of men at my command, so I will be able to leave at once for Mycenae on my own.”

Achilles shook his head.

“What are you saying, Pat?” he exclaimed. “What in all of the heavens and earth makes you presume that I wouldn’t come with you?”

Patroclus’ eyebrows lifted, eyeing him seriously. “I presume nothing. You are not bound to this war,” he said.

“But I am bound to you, aren’t I? You are my dear companion, and my duty to you is just as important as your duty to myself. If this is something you must do, then of course I will be by your side to protect you, and keep you company. And it does not matter that you are not a prince, without an army to call your own. You are a Myrmidon now—one of us. If you have no contingent, then you may share mine, and together we will muster the most splendid army in all of our kingdoms!”

Peleus, who had been listening to their conversation all the while, appeared delighted. He grinned handsomely.

“A magnificent plan, my son,” he said. “Of course, the kingdom of Phthia would be honored to do right by Patroclus, and extend its means to assist the Atreides brothers in their righteous cause. The both of you shall secure glory and victory for yourselves, and for us all. How particularly fortunate you are as well, Achilles. A man could not ask for a finer gift for his coming of age. You should be very pleased.”

Achilles nodded, flushed with pleasure and excitement. “There, Pat, you see? We all love you. And I don’t just mean those of us here in this chamber. Every one of us in Phthia.”

Patroclus eyes darted between father and son, both of them smiling widely at him with warm enthusiasm. At first, he appeared almost stunned by this, but then he bowed his head once again, his eyes glistening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “I am grateful.”

Read the rest here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43292178/chapters/150227206

Previous Chapters: 1. Drown | 2. Grief | 3. Grace | 4. Weakness | 5. Together | 6. Guilt | 7. Known

[hamliet]

Hi, Hamliet! First of all, thanks for your fics and metas! As someone who is blind to LGBTQ you helped me to learn. Also, you are the only one (that I know until now) who also love to talk about Christianity and know about Bible.

See, I was raised by a religious mother who is homophob and now she love "that" president who got chosen again. I love my mum so much, but it's okay that I'm sad by her choice right?

She really chose him just because he "looks religious", can you believe that?

And I tried talk to my mum about how I enjoy queer thing, and she looked at me sad and angry so I lied. Then she sent me sermon of how LGBTQ people will end in hell. And how she is proud that the real gender is only male and female.

Because of that I kinda loose a little faith in christianity (is it weird, I'm so sorry)? Have you ever feel that?

My mum really love king David's story, so when I found your post about how he is a disaster bi, I laughed so hard. Because my mum who is anti LGBTQ not realized that the person she like is bisexual, too...

Also, Paul not married at all, can he be ace or aro?

If I can asked, what is your fav story from Bible and your fav person in it?

Hello hello!

First off, I'm sorry about your mother. I understand. My own mother isn't pro-him, but a lot of my loved ones, including people who actually helped me find a real faith instead of the indoctrinated fundamentalism, have fallen to him. I hate what that man and what he stands for have done to them. I want my loved ones back. Give me back my loved ones, you alt-right brainwashing conmen.

And, I'm also angry. I don't know that I'll ever really forgive them--or, that even if I love them and forgive them, the anger won't cease so long as we live with the consequences they have inflicted on, to use the biblical term, "the least of these." Basically, the vulnerable, the people those in power don't consider. I don't think it's wrong to feel that righteous anger.

But I still want them back.

Just remember that the Bible says this about looking religious:

Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to (Matthew 23:13).

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world (James 1:27).

I don't say this to condemn your mom, or my own loved ones. Just to say that Christians in America--particularly evangelicals--have utterly lost sight of who Christ is, and when someone actually speaks the word of Jesus to them, they want her executed for treason. The American church has sold out for power, for comfort, for wealth, but you can't serve God and mammon. And the consequences of it will be its destruction. The problem is that so many innocents don't deserve this.

As for the LGBTQ thing, sigh. I'm sorry. It's awful. Sometimes I just want to ask people to read about Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome--which was only first recognized 200 years ago--and tell me with a straight face that there are only two genders, and that we know everything there is to know about gender and couldn't possibly be missing key information, even biological information, that informs gender identity.

(I'm not saying there is certainly biological information or that that is necessary to believe queer people are perfectly and wonderfully made in the image of God, as are we all. I'm just saying that I do think people who default to biology need to consider how much we still don't know and are discovering about genetics.)

I don't think it's weird to lose faith. I think it's what happens when we're in a culture where the people who boast about their faith are so far from the very faith they describe. It's a natural consequence. All the far-right conservatives in the US would be better with millstones hung around their necks for the damage they're doing to everyone--both the vulnerable, and to God's name. Because God's name is synonymous with the vulnerable. If you treat the vulnerable with anything other than love and respect, I'd say that's blasphemy, because he's on their side.

So, the funny thing about my favorite Bible story and character is... it's David and specifically his story with his son Absalom. I actually wrote a whole theology paper on it.

The saying that David was "a man after God's own heart" is true, but while we often assume that means God's heart has us slaying giants and ruling, the reality is that David was never closer to God's heart than when he was weeping over his lost son. Because God himself knows what it's like to lose a son.

The irony, though, is that Absalom went really, really wrong. Just like the path so many Christians in American are taking right now. A path of power and self-aggrandizement, where the hypocrisy is out for everyone to see, and the innocent pay the price.

I think God's weeping over them, too.

Oh, and about Paul, for sure he could be! He actually was also quite likely married at one point, because he claims to not be lacking in any qualifications according to the religion of his day--and one of those was to be married. A lot of scholars theorize his wife left him after he converted, which would certainly explain a lot of his darker view of marriage. </3

[corgiplays]

This edition of Evil!Chloe is brought to you by a 16oz Red Bull, Strawberry Sour Patch Kids, Sing to Me and Wolves by Missio

Enjoy @minafeu

Like always ⚠️Trigger Warning ⚠️ for blood, guts, and gore

Judge Sebastian Frollo wasn't always the man of God that he is today. His younger self was filled with hate and anger at his father, the world, everything. He lashed out and made many enemies during high school before getting kicked out and joining the church to find some sort of purpose; and he did.

The news of Adam's gruesome death has struck fear in the hearts of the people. With Ben contents away with no way to gain a hold of the royals apart of the court have been scrambling to find a suitable replacement and have turn to the church for guidance. Which is why Sebastian is here after hours kneeling to his holy father for help.

"Oh most righteous lord. I beg of thy to guide me. I ask of your heavenly wisdom to guide me to the right direction. Our county is in shambles as a darkness plagues the people, a demon has-"

"I do believe I am worse than a lowly demon."

A deep rumble echoes through the large chapel, the stone and wood tremble with the sheer volume. Sebastian stands, fear racing through him as he presses against the holy alter. He grips his cross, mumbling a pray as a what can only be described as a demonic chuckle makes the stained glass shake. It's low, haunting and Sebastian holds his cross tighter.

"I am not afraid of you monster. My father in heaven-"

"Your father has abandoned you!" The voice snarls, it sounds both far away and too close, the sound of metal dragging against stone makes him cringe from the sound.

"He has not! My holy father would never let his most faithful servant fall at the hands of a monster!" Sebastian yells, his own voice wavering as he backs away, he could run away, escaping through the back door of the church.

"Oh Sebastian..." The voice rumbles against his ear. "You should have stayed away from what's mine, from Red." The monster's hand pierces through his back, he gasps as he feels it wrap around his spine. "And now, your death won't cause anything but joy to me." With that Sebastian screams as his lower spine gets pulled out of his body crumpling to the ground.

"Chloe-" Sebastian croaks as he sees the girl from high school tower over her, her eyes glowing, her face animalistic, her feet ached inhumanely.

"I'm tired of hearing your voice." Chloe snarls and it's almost like seeing double, a spectral presence shadows her moves as she digs sharp claws into his throat, gagging on his own blood as he suffocates.

---

The next morning the clergy scream as Sebastian's remains are used to decorate the alter his head front and center and what's little left of him paints the alter red. And all the stained glass windows depicting the other kingdoms are broken, except for Wonderland's.

[orthodoxsoul]

I Dream of A Church

+ I dream of a church; her master is Jesus Christ alone.

+ I dream of a church; her members seek the life of righteousness at all times.

+ I dream of a church; her youth see the Life flow from their church.

+ I dream of a church; her elders enjoy her warmth in the sunset of their lives.

+ I dream of a church; rooted in her heritage, and present always to face all new.

+ I dream of a church; who allows the Holy Spirit to act.

+ I dream of a church; who does not attribute false names to the Holy Spirit, to justify her decay.

+ I dream of a church; her spiritual fathers are pure and righteous.

+ I dream of a church; who opens the door for the youth to find themselves in Christ. And I detest a church who teaches the youth that the only way to God is the blind obedience that erases their personality that God created.

+ I dream of a church; who welcomes the world with joy.

+ I dream of a church; who does not confine the world within its walls, but goes off into the world to make it a church.

+ I dream of a church; who does not handle the issues with human wisdom, but by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

+ I dream of a church; that gives the last word to her Master and seeks, ceaselessly, to determine the compatibility of her decisions with His vision.

+ I dream of a church; who gets up after every fall.

+ I dream of a church; who plants her feet on the ground but she looks up to heavens.

+ I dream of a church; who leaves the human scales and seeks to take on the stature of Jesus Christ.

+ I dream of a church who deals with money to serve the needs of God’s people.

+ I dream of a church; who does not limit herself to just being a building, but realizes that the true church is the living church.

+ I dream of a church; who shares with the believers their worries, and concerns, and sorrows.

+ I dream of a church; who is an oasis for consolation in the desert of this world.

+ I dream of a church; who knows how to rejoice in God, and how to give this joy to the people.

+ I dream of a church; who discerns the peace of Jesus Christ from the peace of the world.

+ I dream of a church; who lives the fulfillment of the life.

+ I dream of a resurrectional church.

+ I dream of a church; who prioritizes welfare.

+ I dream of a church; who knows the language of this world, and evangelizes it in a language that the people of the world will understand.

+ I dream of a church; who lives love every day.

+ I dream of a church; who integrates the talents of her people without putting them in the race of completion.

+ I dream of a church; who does not differentiate between clergy and laity, but deals with all as royal priesthood.

+ I dream of a church; who does not accept a goal less than sainthood, and works to nourish the life with the kingdom of God.

+ I dream of a church; who is not led by human desires.

+ I dream of a church; who her poorest and richest are equal in value and respect.

+ I dream of a church; who doesn't stop working to actualize the Kingdom of God.

+ I dream of a church; who is the body of Christ on earth.

O God save us from the institutionalized church that puts her Master to death and keeps only His name.

- Metropolitan Saba (Esber) of Bosra, Horan and Jabal Al-Arabia

(Translated by Fr. Damaskinos Issa)

The Church is perfect but the people in it are not.

[aggywytchking]

Coffee theory, Lie theory, Body-swap theory, Az has trauma theory—-

I propose my good people: ALL OF THEM

S2 Good Omens Spoilers ahead as well as s3 predictions

Let’s start with the first and most common: the coffee theory.

Coffee theory is simply that Metatron did something to Az’s coffee to make him agree to leave Crowley and go up to heaven.

Now there is no denying that coffee has played a suspiciously conspicuous role throughout this season. From the coffee shop (oh we will come back to the coffee shop at the end my friends, don’t you worry), to Crowley’s espresso order, to Metatron’s suspicious offering, and the coffee cup making an appearance in the opening sequence.

I am never one to cast aside what writers are so obviously trying to shove in an audience’s face.

Do I think that Metatron drugged Az’s coffee in some way? Not really no- I believe coffee might be a symbol for sun here, almost Az’s own Apple as it were.

Throughout the show we have never seen Az drink coffee, only Crowley and humans, both of who are capable of sin. (Also Crowley chugging down 6 shots?). Az drinks tea (unspecified) and offers hot chocolate, but never coffee.

Coffee has no biblical ties- BUT in LSD/Mormonism has a rule against it.

This stance dates back to 1833, when Joseph Smith Jr., the founder of the Church, received what he called “a revelation from God” that said: “hot drinks are not for the body or belly.” -source

Shortly after this “rule” it was updated to allow herbal teas, and in modern times hot chocolate.

Now why would a Mormon rule apply here possibly? Because I believe it may apply to s3. The initial planned sequel to the book has been said to pertain to the second coming of Jesus in America.

After Jesus' resurrection, according to the Book of Mormon, he visited America. In fact, America plays a special role in Mormonism. Mormons believe that when Jesus returns to Earth, he will first go to Jerusalem and then to Missouri. -source

The Book of Mormon references Jesus visiting America- and I don’t think the writers would make one silly tie in and just leave it at that. If we’re saying they’re right on one prophecy, why not add this to it?

I find it silly and impossible to believe that our little human food lover has had it all but was unfamiliar with how espresso would effect him. I also find it highly suspicious how much of the marketing revolves around the beverages our characters drink.

I do believe there is also stock in the almond syrup as everyone else has pointed out.

In context, God had just given Israel a warning. “I have this day set you over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out and to pull down, to destroy and to throw down, to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:9-10) Then after Jeremiah sees the almond tree, God shows him a boiling pot over Jerusalem which portends “calamity”. (Jeremiah 1:13-14) While the almond is a sign of hope that God will eventually fulfill His wonderful promises to Israel (or to us), the context is more ominous. Later, God repeated the warning through Jeremiah: “Behold, I will watch (shaked) over them for evil, and not for good…” (Jeremiah 44:27). God’s message to Israel was that sin has consequences and there will come a time of reckoning – namely the destruction of Jerusalem and the captivity of Israel. Years later, Daniel would pray: “Therefore has the Lord watched (shaked) upon the evil, and brought it upon us: for the Lord our God is righteous in all His works which He does: for we obeyed not His voice.” (Daniel 9:14) -source

That last bit really gets me because Metatron is the voice of god as we know. So the coffee is a combo threat as well as a type of temptation, like the apple. (“Are you going to take it?”) We know that in the s2 opening we see Adam’s (of the garden variety) grave and we are supposed to learn about his death in s3. I think Az falling to temptation will tie into all that.

Back to the moment in question- a lot of people pointed out a miracle sound occurring faintly when the Metatron handed over the coffee. It’s been floating around that this was him doing something to the coffee .

I disagree- I think that was Crowley protecting Az. We don’t see him immediately in that shot- and him being on the other side of the room would be why it was so faint. Metatron’s glare wasn’t one of pure dislike- he sensed something then and was suspicious.

Crowley is overprotective on a good day- but he knows Metatron and does not appear to hold and fondness to him. I think he knew no good was to come from the conversation and wanted to protect Az of anything that could occur. So the coffee didn’t actually end up effecting him at all.

All that summed up to say: coffee theory doesn’t tell us why Az does what he does- but it does tell us why Metatron thinks everything is working out in his favor.

Next up! Az is just traumatized theory

It has been pointed out that Az’s decision in this moment is actually pretty on brand for all that he’s been through. And I would agree!

Of course he wants to be in heaven’s good graces, of course he wants to fix the world-save the humans- overhaul the system, of course he is still seeking validation.

That’s why when offered the position he jumps at it! No mind inducing coffee needed like the Metatron had thought. It’s just that what Metatron doesn’t know is that Az is agreeing with his own motives in mind. He wants to make a world safe for humans, he wants to make a reality safe for him and Crowley, and he wants to come back to his bookshop at the end of it all.

All that summed up to say: Az trauma theory tells us why he decided to take this path- but doesn’t explain the offer itself (coffee theory did that), or why he presents it the way he does

Next: The Lie Theory

This theory comes based around the idea that Az is lying to both Metatron and Crowley.

This season taught us something very crucial about angels in general and our favorite, Az. It showed us that angels are not supposed to be able to lie- and that Az willingly does on multiple occasions.

Lying is definitely a big deal in the Bible. It is one of the Ten Commandments in fact.

One of the Ten Commandments is "thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour"; for this reason, lying is generally considered a sin in Christianity. -source

It is no small thing that Az commits this sin- although I’m sure he puts himself through all sorts of mental gymnastics to do so. From what we can tell, he only does so to protect. In this case, we can assume he is trying to protect Crowley.

The lie in theory is that during the secret conversation with Metatron, some sort of threat against Crowley may have been made or that Az simply needed to figure out a way to drive Crowley away from him (or possibly goad him).

So when Az is telling Crow that he can be an angel again, this is a lie knowing that he would never go for it. Then when he reports back to Metatron he lies (by omission) what he actually relayed over to Crowley.

Why such a harsh lie though? Why hurt Crowley so deeply- surely there are other ways to push him away from danger.

Because he was trying to goad him- he was trying to rile him up.

So to summarize: The Lie theory tells us why Az delivers his news how he does- but not to what end

Now: The Bodyswap Theory

Bodyswap theory is essentially that Az and Crow switched bodies again during the kiss to go about and solve the issues at hand.

Now we know from s1 this is possible- but I don’t exactly think that’s what happened. We learned this season that angels also appear to have the ability to store memories or consciousness ~elsewhere~ and that both of these seem to require physical contact to occur.

What I believe happened here was that Az transferred some sort of information to Crow (a memory- what happened in the conversation-etc). That’s why kiss was, uh, not quite so quick and chaste and why Az was goading Crow in the first place. Also possible Crow transferred some knowledge (or abilities) back.

We have seen that Crowley is actually rather easy to rule up- and that Az has succeeded in doing so multiple times.

I don’t think Az was expecting a kiss (poor soul)- but he was expecting to be grabbed or something.

To summarize: Bodyswap theory explains why Crowley didn’t immediately burn the world to the ground

Now looking ahead to s3 and my own silly theories off of all of this. Aka: gentleman start your engines theory

This theory will hopefully explain those last few painful moments.

“I forgive you”

“Don’t bother”

For what? The kiss? The not going to heaven? All of it?

No- for what Crowley is about to do. Aka raise hell on heaven.

Whatever information Az passed along- Crow’s response was some sort of inkling of a plan towards destroying heaven and the system as we know it. A revolution of sorts.

The revolution has been hinted at since the end of s1- ever since our precious coffee shop sprang into existence (told you I’d get back to it).

The quote that the title of the shop is referring to is “Give me liberty or give me death,” from founding father Patrick Henry’s famous speech credited with swinging public favor to join the American revolution (America, the convenient location of our second coming) during the First Virginia Convention at St. John’s Church.

I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to comfort themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves, are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrance’s have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation? There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. The war is actually begun! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! -source

Another fun historical fact- this church also helped pave the way for religious freedom in America. (But also had a very messy history).

It is notable that the Second Virginia Convention authorized Baptist chaplains to minister to soldiers, an important early step toward freedom of religion in what became the Commonwealth of Virginia. Baptists and Methodists had been influential in Virginia during and following the Great Awakening, and many of the common people had already become affiliated with Baptist and Methodist congregations. -source

We also what seems to be a militia of sorts marching to heaven in the s2 opener with all sorts of walks of life. This isn’t going to be the heaven vs hell war- it’s going to be a revolution.

We see repeatedly when Az forgives Crow it’s almost reactionary. He wants Crow to know he doesn’t condemn his actions (and therefore also agrees with them to some extent).

Crow says “don’t bother” not because he’s dismissing Az, but because the very system that the forgiveness is based on he seeks to overturn.

This planned revolution is also why we get the “no nightingales” line.

Now the: No Nightingales Theory

Now, we are meant to think it’s just a heartbreaking reference to the song “a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square” but it’s so much more.

Nightingales are mentioned one time in the Bible- well the Old Testament has them at least, in the Song of Songs.

"Behold the autumn has passed, the rain has gone, blossoms are seen in the Land, the time of the nightingale has come, the voice of the turtledove is heard; the fig has formed its first fruit; the vines in blossom give forth fragrance", Song of Songs 2:11-13. These verses describe springtime in the Land of Israel. The rains have ended, the trees are in blossom and the nightingale has come. Israel is located on the migratory route between Europe and Africa, of so many birds, including the nightingale and the sweet sound of the birds can be heard from within the shrubbery. -source

The Song of Songs is described as, “a literary, poetic exploration of human love that strongly affirms loyalty, beauty, and sexuality. Yet in God's story, these things are not ends in themselves.”- Tom Gledhill.

Both this and the song “a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square” reference a nightingale symbolizing the coming of spring after winter.

Nightingales have a long history in British literature having a general theme of representing nature's purity, and, in Western spiritual tradition, virtue and goodness.

In Romeo and Juliet, they help represent the opposing sides of light and dark in love

In the same way that light and dark are mutually exclusive, Romeo and Juliet are like nightingales and larks, never able to be together. The lark, a bird of the morning (light), represents harsh reality, while the nightingale represents the safety of night (darkness). -source

In John Keats “Ode to a Nightingale” he references the battle between logic and passion- “The nightingale described experiences a type of death but does not actually die. Instead, the songbird is capable of living through its song, which is a fate that humans cannot expect. The poem ends with an acceptance that pleasure cannot last and that death is an inevitable part of life.” -source.

We also have this lovely tidbit from Izaak Walton’s (famous British author) essay.

But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, “Lord, what music hast Thou provided for the saints in heaven, when Thou affordest bad men such music on earth?”-source

This references the shortcoming of heaven and the beauty of what sinners may find on earth again via the nightingale.

All this to say- Crowley’s “no nightingales” may be a way of saying “spring is not here, we are still in the trenches, I love you-but cannot protect you where you are going now.”

Still sad! But like- less break up sad, more the reality of the situation they’re entering sad.

Also- back to Walton’s piece- the questioning of god again—

Speaking of god… where is she

And finally: God is Dead- a not fully formed theory

Did anyone else notice god did not narrate this season? Not to go all “his dark materials” on y’all, but did someone kill god?

Odd artistic choice to just remove her so suddenly.

I just keep circling back to Metatron’s question in the coffee shop, “does anyone ask for death?”

At first I thought he was referring to Job- who’s story we got to tackle this season, as in the Bible he actually mentions asking for death several times.

But then it got me wondering- did god ask for death? If so was it because the ineffable plan failed?

Also the inclusion of Iain Banks, ‘The Crow Road’ that Metatron gives Muriel can’t be for nothing. (Spoiler of for book-but it’s loosely a murder mystery with a solid grappling with faith).

Part of me also wonders if Crow is suspicious of all this- just based off the faces he was making around Metatron. Also because of Gabriel just throwing everything away suddenly- and him referencing the second coming.

I don’t have a fully formed analysis of this theory- it’s just growing in my head.

ANYWAYS- in summary: Metatron tried to trick Az with the coffee, but crow protected him, and it wasn’t necessary anyways because Az has trauma, but still wants to protect Crow so he lied and riled him up to transfer knowledge, and Crow has decided to raid a revolution but is being a romantic drama queen about it, and god might be dead. :)

[coffeeman777]

Everyone reading this, this is for you. God appointed that you would see this post at this time. He has a message for you, please don't ignore it.

The message is this: repent of your sins, and believe in Jesus! This life will not last forever. Some day, maybe some day soon, each and every one of us will stand before the Lord to be judged. For those who repent and receive God's offer of pardon through Lord Jesus' sacrifice, they will obtain eternal life. Those who refuse the Lord Jesus and die in their sins, they will receive condemnation and everlasting punishment. Please, I beg you, don't let yourself be counted among the latter!

If you read this and you want to know more, please don't hesitate to reach out to me.

I love you all. I'll be praying for you!

Romans 10:9-13

"...9 because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. 10 For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. 11 For the Scripture says, “Everyone who believes in Him will not be put to shame.” 12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing His riches on all who call on Him. 13 For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”"

Titus 2:11-14

"11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, 12 training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, 13 waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, 14 who gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession who are zealous for good works."

Titus 3:3-7

"3 For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. 4 But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, 5 He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, 6 whom He poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, 7 so that being justified by His grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life."

2 Thessalonians 1:5-10

"5 This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering— 6 since indeed God considers it just to repay with affliction those who afflict you, 7 and to grant relief to you who are afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels 8 in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. 9 They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His might, 10 when He comes on that day to be glorified in His saints, and to be marveled at among all who have believed, because our testimony to you was believed."

Revelation 20:11-15

"11 Then I saw a great white throne and Him who was seated on it. From His presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. 12 And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done. 13 And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. 14 Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. 15 And if anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire."

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Teaches in Parables

1 That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. 2 And great crowds gathered about him, so that he got into a boat and sat down. And the whole crowd stood on the beach. 3 And he told them many things in parables, saying: “A sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. 5 Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, 6 but when the sun rose they were scorched. And since they had no root, they withered away. 7 Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8 Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. 9 He who has ears, let him hear.”

The Purpose of the Parables

10 Then the disciples came and said to him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” 11 And he answered them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. 12 For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. 13 This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. 14 Indeed, in their case the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled that says:

“You will indeed hear but never understand, and you will indeed see but never perceive.” 15 For this people's heart has grown dull, and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand with their heart and turn, and I would heal them.’

16 But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. 17 For truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.

The Parable of the Sower Explained

18 “Hear then the parable of the sower: 19 When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path. 20 As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, 21 yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. 22 As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. 23 As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

The Parable of the Weeds

24 He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field, 25 but while his men were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away. 26 So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared also. 27 And the servants of the master of the house came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?’ 28 He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’ So the servants said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ 29 But he said, ‘No, lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. 30 Let both grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, “Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.”’”

The Mustard Seed and the Leaven

31 He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. 32 It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

33 He told them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, till it was all leavened.”

Prophecy and Parables

34 All these things Jesus said to the crowds in parables; indeed, he said nothing to them without a parable. 35 This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet:

“I will open my mouth in parables; I will utter what has been hidden since the foundation of the world.”

The Parable of the Weeds Explained

36 Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples came to him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” 37 He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man. 38 The field is the world, and the good seed is the sons of the kingdom. The weeds are the sons of the evil one, 39 and the enemy who sowed them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. 40 Just as the weeds are gathered and burned with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. 41 The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all law-breakers, 42 and throw them into the fiery furnace. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 43 Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. He who has ears, let him hear.

The Parable of the Hidden Treasure

44 “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

The Parable of the Pearl of Great Value

45 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, 46 who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.

The Parable of the Net

47 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and gathered fish of every kind. 48 When it was full, men drew it ashore and sat down and sorted the good into containers but threw away the bad. 49 So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous 50 and throw them into the fiery furnace. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

New and Old Treasures

51 “Have you understood all these things?” They said to him, “Yes.” 52 And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

Jesus Rejected at Nazareth

53 And when Jesus had finished these parables, he went away from there, 54 and coming to his hometown he taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished, and said, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? 55 Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? 56 And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” 57 And they took offense at him. But Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his hometown and in his own household.” 58 And he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief. — Matthew 13 | English Standard Version (ESV) The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Cross References: Genesis 18:6; Genesis 26:12; Deuteronomy 29:4; 2 Samuel 23:6-7; Psalm 78:2; Psalm 104:12; Psalm 119:70; Ezekiel 17:6; Daniel 3:6; Daniel 12:3; Zephaniah 1:3; Matthew 5:37; Matthew 8:20; Matthew 12:32; Matthew 13:1; Matthew 13:3-4; Matthew 13:44; Matthew 13:49; Matthew 17:20; Matthew 20:1; Mark 3:23; Mark 4:4; Mark 4:6; Mark 4:16; Mark 4:25; Luke 5:3; Luke 8:8-9; Luke 8:11; Luke 10:23; 1 Corinthians 15:42

Why Did Jesus Teach in Parables?

Key Passages in Matthew 13

1. The parable of the sower and the seed; 18. the explanation of it. 24. The parable of the weeds; 31. of the mustard seed; 33. of the leaven; 36. explanation of the parable of the weeds. 44. The parable of the hidden treasure; 45. of the pearl; 47. of the drag net cast into the sea. 53. Jesus is a prophet without honor in his own country.

[stay-pos-cos]

Some thoughts on the Winchester brothers.

The alignment of Sam with Hell and Dean with Heaven happens well before we learn that they are the true vessels.

Sam refers to seeing himself as unclean or tainted due to Azazel's (yellow eyes). As though by ingesting the blood of a demon he fell from personhood so something othered and twisted.

Dean is Sam's savior, he pulled Sam from the flames as a child and raised him in their father's absence. Dean sees himself (and Sam) as righteous and good as they save people and fight evil.

As Sam uses his abilities both he and Dean fear that he is straying from this righteous path, even when the visions are beyond his control. When Sam discovers that Azazel wants him to lead the armies of Hell we see this cemented in his character, from birth he was watched over by Hell's forces to become a weapon.

Dean acts as a counter balance even before the boys discover the existence of angels where Sam seems to have a knack for falling in love or in lust with monsters, Dean's interests lie in humanity (until the angels enter the chat (Anna/Cass)

When Sam starts drinking demon blood he unwittingly offers himself to Hell in a way, allowing the lifeblood of the damned to enter him of his own free will.

When Sam made the decision to leave John and Dean not once, not twice but three times he was mirroring Lucifer leaving the Kingdom of his father, feeling undervalued and slighted by the favor of his father being given to another.

Alternatively when Dean stayed he was the faithful soldier modeled after the heavenly host. Unwaveringly faithful to the father that had forsaken and banished his brother.

[sunforgrace]

ethical quandaries to consider in this modern age. AI bad. but using the image of the actor man for destiel purposes always good morally righteous and will see you to the kingdom of heaven

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for January 15, 2025

  Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 2:21-22(KJV): 21 For the upright shall dwell in the land, and the perfect shall remain in it. 22 But the wicked shall be cut off from the earth, and the transgressors shall be rooted out of it.

Thought for the Day

Verse 21 - These verses hold a wonderful promise of protection for God's people. The upright and the perfect will dwell in the land, and Satan cannot drive us from where the Lord places us. What makes a person upright and perfect? The Bible calls us righteous or upright when we have accepted the Lord Jesus as our Savior and walk in His will. Perfect speaks of our becoming like Jesus and our heavenly Father. When we read Matthew 5:48, where Jesus commanded "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect," we may think that there is no way that we can be perfect. The Lord, however, would never tell us to be what we cannot be. Perfect is better rendered as "mature." The Lord does not wish us to remain immature, walking in the flesh (our old, unregenerate nature) and doing what is unbecoming to His followers. He desires that we grow up into Christ, standing in His righteousness and not our own.

Verse 22 - This verse tells us that the wicked will be cut off (removed) from the earth - not the righteous. Psalm 24:1 says, "The earth is the LORD's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein." Eventually only God and His people will inhabit the earth; the devil's followers will be removed. "The Son of man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniquity; and shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear" (Matthew 13:41-43).

Jesus prayed, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in Heaven." The Lord wishes to demonstrate His will and His Kingdom on this earth to all people through the lives of each of His children. He desires our light to shine in this dark world.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, I want to be a light for You in this earth. Lord, we live in a dark world, so I desire that You shine in me so others may see Your light. Help me today to live perfectly toward You and walk in Your will. I know that when I do this, you will use me to help others. I know that while I am busy about Your business, you will keep me safe from all harm. Thank you, today for protecting my granddaughter in the automobile accident that she was involved in yesterday. Although the car was totaled, she and her friend were not injured. Thank you for another of Your promises in Psalm 37 that says, our seed shall be blessed. I am most blessed to have the promises of Your Word. May others know those same promises are for them and their families too. In Jesus' name, Amen.

[bonefall]

What Revelation did each leader get?

Gray Wing coming down from Heaven to bring revelations to the founders

To each founder, xe admonished the flaws that had lead them there on that day. Xe warned that if they did not change their ways, it would be the undoing of themselves as well as their Clan.

To Thunder Storm...

He had never heard the sermons of Gray Wing in life, and yet, he knew xeir teachings better than any of the cats many years his senior. He was already a leader when he should just be leaving his boyhood, and he'd gotten to this position by challenging that which he had been told, and acting in righteous fury when others held their tongues.

So for him, Gray Wing the Wise tells him that he is about to enter a new era. He will not be an underdog, but a powerful warlord, and he must must be weary of the line between justice and revenge.

"The flame that cooks creates, but beware the wildfire that burns away the wood. When you act upon your rage, you must be sure it does not act upon you."

To River's Ripple...

You have only ever acted on pleasure. For passion of your friends, for love of food, desire of things that shine. Like a petal on the river, you have let the flow of life lead you. It lead you into the claws of Clear Sky, your father and his army here to save you, and a dozen cats into their graves tonight.

Though you've tried to avoid it, you must realize now that the lazy river ripples with power in every muscle. Your people will look to you now, just as the water flows through the canal it has carved.

"The peace within you is unique, and meant to be shared with those around you. This is a strength; it is your truancy that is a weakness. Accept the responsibility of being the river that flows, or your own weight shall wash away your kingdom."

To Tall Shadow...

This is where xe began to get angry, but the black-furred leader bowed her head humbly.

Gray Wing laid into how she had used xis name to justify her own ends, putting clan-interest above forest-prosperity, making outsiders out of cats xe had commanded to enfold. She had turned cats into pawns for bargaining, and lost sight of their lives in the process.

"You have failed to break your own legacy, and will watch as someone you love is broken upon it. This is not a threat but a warning; make your heart a refuge for the lost and weary, for you will be judged on how you pick up the pieces."

(TN: "Dark Heart of the Forest comes from a translation quirk here, xey tell her to 'shade her heart' which in Clanmew means to make it a relief from the hot sun.")

To The Wind Runner...

Ambitious, opportunistic, and vindictive. She united many cats who had broken off from the River Kingdom, but only invented a brand new cage for them all. The Wind Runner was out for herself and her own family-- total self-interest.

To her, Gray Wing was furious but simple; "You came for a taste of war and now you choke on it. If you keep treating your cats as tools for power, you will find hounds behind you. It's time for you to serve them instead of having them serve you; let go of grudges, open your mind, grow."

To Clear Sky...

Lulled into a sense of smug security, he had relaxed. After all, at the end of the day... it was all their fault for trying to take what was supposed to belong to him. He was just trying to make sure his cats never go hungry; his littermate would see that.

"LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT"

"This all comes back to you, Clear Sky. You did this."

"What?! They were the ones who--"

"You killed our brother, Jagged Peak! Rejected a sign from your ancestors and twisted my words to suit yourself! Tried to kill your own mate and son!"

"I WAS JUST TRYING TO--"

A final clap of thunder shook the clearing. Perhaps Clear Sky could shout down anyone else who tried to stand up to him in the past; but not the Ancestors. Not at a graveyard of his own making.

"Never before have you truly listened to another person, nor changed your mind once you'd made it up. Do not take our mercy as foolishness, you will decide if my words are warning or prophecy. Your greed will split the sky in two, but the more you grab, the less you will hold. Greed will make all the gifts we will give you rot beneath your own pelt; Unite or Die, Clear Sky."

Before xey finish, they repeat it to all of them. "Unite or die."

After this, they explain that their next task is to properly bury all of the victims of the fight. As reward, each leader will be given nine lives to lead their people, and explore that which was revealed on this night.

Each revelation ties into what the leader will be doing next. Most are prophecies, some are just guidance. Like Gray Wing said; it is up to them if the words are warning or prophecy.