#when Christ rose from the dead!!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

911 sm team putting that video out today - Easter Monday - I see you and I see what you’re doing and you cannot get past me

‘Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, just as the Scriptures said.’

Corinthians 15:3-4

[littlelamy]

he's still dripping saltwater onto the hotel bed when his phone buzzes, throat tight from shouting at ward on the yacht, some bullshit about respect that doesn't matter now, not when his screen lights up with your name. again. fucking finally.

he told you to call.

told you to keep him updated, send pictures, let him hear your voice so he didn't lose his mind being stuck here with rose’s fake ass laugh and his dad pretending he gives a shit. but you haven’t. barely a word. a missed call he couldn’t answer at dinner, some half-assed text before bed last night. it’s not enough. not even fucking close.

he snatches the phone up before it stops vibrating, fingers still damp as he unlocks it, and—

jesus christ.

his breath gets knocked straight out of him like a gut punch. the video starts with you spread out on your bed, wearing the tiny lace panties he bought you last summer, the white ones with the little satin bow at the front. the ones he told you not to wear when he wasn’t around. your skin’s soft in the low light, thighs shifting, a teasing little wiggle of your hips before your fingers dip between your legs, pressing against the wet spot already showing through. he can hear you, a soft, breathy sigh, and his cock twitches to life in his swim trunks.

his jaw clenches as the video plays. his grip tightens on the phone.

“miss you, rafey,” your voice, saccharine sweet, a little breathless. “wish you were here.”

your fingers slip under the lace, pushing it aside, and fuck—he gets a perfect view of your glistening folds, of how wet you already are for him, all from just thinking about him. his free hand curls into the sheets, nails digging in. his cock’s aching now, straining against his shorts, but he doesn’t move, just stares, entranced, pupils blown wide as you tease yourself, spreading slick with slow, lazy strokes. you always did love putting on a show for him.

his teeth sink into his bottom lip when your fingers slide inside, a needy whimper slipping out, hips lifting to meet your own touch. he should be there. should be the one filling you up, wrecking you like only he can. his jaw flexes. his breath’s coming short now, heavy, uneven. your back arches, your pace picking up, and he hears it—his name, the way it tumbles from your lips, needy, desperate. his head tips back against the headboard, exhaling sharply through his nose. he’s so fucking hard it’s painful.

then you bring your other hand up, two fingers dipping into your mouth, coating them in spit before trailing down, pressing against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. his vision goes white-hot for a second. his hips jerk up involuntarily. your moans turn breathy, higher pitched, his name slipping out between them like a prayer, like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

then you’re gasping, thighs squeezing around your own hand, chest heaving, back arching high as you come with a soft, broken cry—

and the video ends.

his thumb hovers over the screen, like maybe if he presses just right, it’ll play again. like he didn’t just watch the whole thing burned into his memory in perfect, agonizing detail. his pulse is hammering in his ears. he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, glancing toward the bathroom where the shower’s still running.

his fingers fly over the keyboard.

you’re fucking dead when i get home.

he hesitates, staring at the screen, then adds—

call me. now.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[rafes-slut]

Rafe accidently sees video of you fingering yourself

Pairing: bsf!Rafe Cameron x reader (both taken)

Warnings: Heavy sexual tension, explicit content, voyeurism, cheating implications, Rafe being completely inappropriate, detailed descriptions of arousal and tension, forbidden desires.

Summary: Rafe was just killing time, scrolling through your phone while you did your makeup—until he found that video. The one you’d made for your boyfriend, the one where your fingers disappeared inside you, soft moans spilling from your lips.

Rafe was sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place, his long legs stretched out, back propped against your pillows as he lazily scrolled through your phone. He looked perfectly at ease, one arm slung over his stomach, fingers moving idly over the screen while his other hand played with the frayed hem of his ripped jeans.

You were across the room, seated at your vanity, fixing your makeup. The low hum of music played from your speaker, filling the comfortable silence between you. This wasn’t anything new—Rafe at your place, making himself at home while you got ready, flipping through your phone because his was dead, acting like it was his given right to go through whatever he pleased.

Neither of you thought anything of it.

Not until his scrolling slowed.

Not until his thumb hovered over a video thumbnail that made his pulse kick up a notch.

The lighting was dim, the warm glow of your bedside lamp casting a soft hue over bare skin. He could barely make out what it was at first, but something about the frame had his curiosity piqued. He tapped it without hesitation, expecting maybe a stupid video or some mirror selfie.

But the second it started playing, his entire body locked up.

The first thing he noticed was your voice—soft, breathy, already heavy with arousal. The quiet gasp that slipped past your lips had his stomach tightening, fingers gripping your phone just a little harder.

Then he saw you.

The camera was positioned just right, catching the full expanse of your body sprawled across your sheets, knees bent, thighs slightly parted. You had your phone propped up somewhere, giving him the perfect angle to watch as your fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of the lacy panties barely covering you.

His jaw clenched.

He should have looked away. He knew he should have looked away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he sat there, frozen, eyes glued to the screen as your fingers disappeared beneath the thin fabric, teasing yourself, stroking over your slit before slipping inside. A sharp breath escaped you, your back arching slightly, and Rafe felt something dark and possessive coil in his stomach.

Holy fuck.

You were touching yourself.

And not just teasing—no, you were fucking yourself, slowly pushing your fingers deep, your wetness glistening under the dim light. His throat went dry, breath coming out in short, uneven exhales as he watched your hips shift, a quiet moan slipping past your lips when you curled your fingers just right.

Jesus Christ.

Rafe felt the blood rush straight to his dick so fast it made his head spin. His jeans, already snug, suddenly felt unbearably tight, his cock straining against the rough denim. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust himself without being obvious, but nothing could ease the throbbing ache building between his legs.

You whimpered, your free hand gripping the sheets as your fingers worked in and out, slow and deliberate. His eyes traced every detail—the way your thighs trembled, the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, the way your lips parted in pleasure.

He imagined them around his cock.

That thought alone had him gritting his teeth, fighting the overwhelming urge to palm himself through his jeans. He could almost feel it—your mouth on him, warm and wet, lips stretching around his length as he fucked into your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He shouldn’t be watching this. He definitely shouldn’t be getting this fucking hard over it.

But the way you moved, the way your fingers disappeared inside you, slick with your arousal, had him completely entranced. The quiet whimpers that spilled from your mouth had his entire body strung tight with need, every muscle wound so fucking tense it was painful.

Then you moaned a name.

Your boyfriend’s name.

Rafe’s stomach twisted. A sharp, burning jealousy coiled inside him, something ugly and possessive that made his hands tighten into fists. That should be him. It should be his name you were moaning, his fingers buried inside you, his cock making you fall apart.

His breathing turned ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to keep himself composed. He couldn’t fucking believe this. Couldn’t believe you’d sent this to someone else, let some other guy see you like this.

His fingers itched to delete the video, to erase the proof that anyone else had ever had this piece of you. But before he could even think, the video was coming to an end—your body tensing, back arching, thighs shaking as you reached your peak. Your breath hitched, a long, drawn-out moan slipping past your lips as pleasure consumed you.

Rafe felt his cock throb painfully, a pulse of heat surging through him so intense it had him gritting his teeth.

And just like that, the screen went black.

He barely had time to process what just happened before your voice cut through the air.

“All done,” you said, spinning in your chair.

Rafe nearly jumped, fingers moving so fast to exit the video that he almost dropped your phone. He quickly turned the screen off, swallowing hard as he forced his face to stay neutral, praying to fucking God that he didn’t look as guilty as he felt.

“Cool,” he muttered, voice rough, strained.

You didn’t even notice, too busy grabbing your phone back and checking your reflection in the mirror. Meanwhile, Rafe was still sprawled on your bed, painfully hard, his hands curled into fists as he willed himself to calm the fuck down.

His pulse pounded in his ears, his jeans unbearably tight, and the only thing running through his mind was the image of your fingers buried deep inside you.

This night was going to be a fucking problem.

[wakeup01]

buttslut

If you had asked Dante whether he would ever bottom, 1, he would probably punch you. And 2, he would insist that topping gays was just something 100% straight men like him did. And he’d say it with…well, with a ‘straight’ face. It was a display of superiority and power, an act to show people their place. He wouldn’t be seen dead bent over, presenting his rear. The mere idea disgusted him, a fact he made very clear when loudly talking to his recently made friend, Cris, inside the local inclusive night club.

An unlikely friendship that only came about from bumping into each other while Dante was taking selfies in the college bathrooms. Something of a regular past time, as Cris quickly learned. Even in a public place, Dante didn’t miss the opportunity to admire his own body, smirking as several gay guys around him turned to get a glimpse. Maybe that was the only real reason he agreed to come along. Then again, he was capable of being kindhearted, in his own special way.

“You see those pathetic ‘guys’ earlier? Practically begging to be shown what a real man can do.” Dante commented, chugging down the rest of his beer. Blatantly ignoring the warning hanging on the wall which stated ‘discrimination will not be tolerated’. Yes. Kind. In his *own* special way. “You get me?”

“Uh huh...” Cris sheepishly replied, trying to hold back a wince. Looking down with disappointment, his eyes tearing up slightly. Now definitely wasn’t a good time to reveal that he was actually trans. Maybe when the sun was about to implode, yes, that seemed like a more appropriate occasion.

Dante was a somewhat typical douchebag jock in most respects, keen to display his dominance and superior body to anyone with a hole to fill. A fuckstick with a guy - rather inconveniently, attached. Dante pushed out his perfectly sculpted chest and flexed his rippling muscles while he made his openly deriding remarks as a group passed him by. Deliberately yelling over the obnoxious club song that was blaring overhead. Cris merely laughed nervously, ashamed to admit his infatuation with Dante’s body - adjusting his trousers as his dick unconsciously rose to attention at Dante’s confident voice.

“Christ, your drink looks kinda fruity. You should try some of mine.” He lifts a glass and holds it out.

“Maybe later, do you want to go dance? I kinda dig this Charli…song.” Cris’ voice peters out at the expression shot in their direction. “Maybe not, huh.”

Unfortunately for Dante, the patrons and staff weren’t too keen on his ‘colourful’ choice of words, especially when starting to talk about ‘butt sluts’, as he put it. A bit of glitter blown in his direction was all that was needed to kickstart a change in perspective. Cris watched with wide eyes as he witnessed his toxic crush’s language and demeanour gradually adjust in front of him.

Dante attempted to brush away the glitter that somwhow got all over him. “The fu—fudge is this gay shi—shizzle!” Instead he only managed to spread it everywhere, speeding up the adjustments. Dante took another sip of beer and scrunched his nose up at the taste, pushing the drink aside. His stiff and once proud stature grew limp, hips swaying to the rhythm of the club music. The plethora of swears and insults softened into a series of enthusiastic lisps and giggles. His deep voice changing pitch one word at a time. “This soOOoong s—slaps, like, a totes banger!” Dante shouts out, to his friends amusement.

“But I thought you hated this—“

“Uhhhh, as if!” Dante’s whiney intonation quickly interjects, somewhat unbefitting of the muscled body it came from, his defined pecs still pushing out against the thin fabric of his tank top.

A warm insatiable itch caused Dante to absently remove his top and shorts, revealing a jockstrap cupping his bubbly rear - which quickly doubled in mass as it comically splayed out beneath him. A result of the rainbow glitter sticking to his sweaty body. The rest of him remained built like a tank, wide shoulders and thick thighs. A meaty chest glistening under the flickering lights of the club. He was so hot, but not just in appearance. The drunken stupor had fully gripped his easily manipulated mind. Everything around him suddenly seemed soo funny.

“Gawd, my butt’s, like, pretty big. Weird. Heehee.” Dante points out, turning slightly to show Cris, causing his cheeks to wobble. “Do girls even want big butts on guys?”

“Well…I…” Cris stammers, blushing bright red at the image of his ultra masculine friend shaking his butt while effeminately biting his lip.

“Like suuuper big and…” Internally Dante was unaware of his out of character behaviour, unquestioning as his brutish dominance was purged, replaced by adorably bratty submissiveness. He was the same old Dante deep down, just…happier. And sluttier. His body unconsciously began to gyrate to the heavy bass throbbing in his head. All he noticed was the growing need centred around his tight hole. His fingers cautiously touched the jiggly mound of flesh weighing him down from behind. Dante’s eyes filled with lust as he stared at his friend Cris, noting the sight of him and all the other hot men around him. A pleasurable sigh escapes his pursed lips.

“Big and…empty.”

A couple minutes of character growth later, members of staff arrived to offer Dante ‘vip status’ at the club. A program they had setup to deal with any ‘troublemakers’. Dante didn’t mind however, and agreed instantly. Cris followed as he got directed out the back door towards his new station, taking his position as a public relief hole. Leaning against the wall as the cool night air brushed against his bare skin. All the while he was incapable of keeping his hands off his rear, feeling it up without a second thought as onlookers watched. Dante simply nodded along dimly while the club’s manager explained that he was about to be fucked and used repeatedly to atone for his remarks. That once he has filled his quota, he and his twerkable bubble butt would become the club’s next permanent dancer.

Dante smiles and says “mmkay” while pushing his hands against the wall and widening his legs - staring blankly ahead. “Like this?” There was a little sign above his head that simply read ‘hole’ with an arrow pointing down. Just in case it wasn’t clear.

Cris made sure he was first in line to try out the new resident ‘butt slut’. He positions himself behind Dante, and struggles to hold back a laugh at the sight of the once bigoted jock willingly preparing to get dicked. He definitely liked him a lot more like this - the same muscled physique, but without the crude superiority complex. Their friendship was sure to hit new heights.

“Ready? Let me show you what a ‘real man’ can do.” Cris says with a newfound sense of confidence. Playfully, he spins Dante’s baseball cap around and places his hands across the himbo’s rear, parting his huge round cheeks to show off the cherry he was about to pop - before the rest of the club would inevitably leave him gaping.

“Mm.” Is all Dante can muster before Cris’s cock forcefully stretches him open and leaves him moaning like the natural cock hungry bottom he now was. “Don’t—don’t stawwwp babe!”

[hydrobunny]

meet me in the pouring rain

tags: comfort, established relationship, aftermath of fights, happy ending!!!!!

obviously, you two had your fights. it would be stupid to think you didn't: stupid to assume the two of you were constantly perfect.

you curl up by the door of your bedroom, trying to stop yourself from crying.

you hated this. you hated how you had expected anything different. of course sae itoshi would choose football over you. it was what he had been doing for his entire life.

but why had you thought today would be something different? just because it was your birthday?

you had asked him if you two were doing anything so excitedly, so stupidly. he had looked at you with the blankest expression you had seen.

and of course when you tried to press the matter, he had snapped at you that he was busy- to not bother him before practice.

and the words had spewed out of your mouth, telling him to get on with it and get out of the house.

sae hadn't argued further, merely blinking at you in vague confusion before slamming the door behind him.

he hadn't returned for lunch. and with the sheer amount of rain outside, you knew he couldn't be practicing still. (well, you mused, there was a slight chance.)

but that meant he had to be taking shelter somewhere away from your home, somewhere with other people.

lightning crackled outside. the rain was really coming on in droves now. you curl further into a ball and listen to your own heartbeat, steady and calming.

the notification sound of your phone was a scare, and you flinch, hard. you look around for the source of the noise. the dings continue on and on.

when you finally find your phone, you're stunned to see the contact sae <33

the messages are a clear change from his usual short ones, practically an entire chain of frantic words. it's a drastic change compared to the dead silence he's been giving you today.

y/n

fuck i'm sorry

i didn't mean what i did in the morning

i forgot the date i'm so sorry

y/n?

i'm outside. you don't have to come if you don't want to. i'll stay.

you stare at that last message. sae was-

you run to her window, heart rate rising. you can barely see past the sheer amount of rain slamming down.

but sae was there. you can make out his vague form, the rain unforgivably landing on top of his head.

you almost fall down the stairs with how fast you run down. you skid to a stop in front of the door.

your hand turns on the knob.

“sae,” you breathe out.

sae looks at you with a bouquet of soaked roses and a small box, looking more like a drowned rat than the boyfriend you knew.

“you're going to get sick,” you sputter. “what were you-”

“i love you,” sae interrupts, eyes glowing with an intensity unfamiliar to you.

you've only seen that look on the field, when he's truly concentrating.

"i'm so fucking sorry," he continues. "i need you to know that you are my first priority. i know i don't act like it- but you're the best thing that's happened to me."

your mouth hangs open, your voice weak. "come inside."

he does. you gently take the roses from him and place them on the table. he pockets the box, and you don't question him.

sae waits patiently for you to speak.

"i'm sorry too," you finally say. "i shouldn't have-"

he grabs onto your hands, squeezing reassuringly. "don't apologize. im the one who forgot. it's not-it'll never be your fault."

you swallow. "i love you. but you should really go change-"

"before that," sae digs back into his pocket and pulls out the neatly wrapped box. "here."

the wrapping paper gives easily underneath your nails. you eye the box warily. it's clearly jewelry, so you crack the thing open-

"jesus christ-" you fumble the box.

sae catches it easily, raising one eyebrow.

"you got a ring?"

"it's not what you think it is." he hums, gently taking the ring out of the box. it's a pretty little thing, all delicate and fragile looking. "my proposal wouldn't be this tacky."

you stare at him. "so the ring is..."

"a promise," he answers as he slides it carefully onto your finger. "for a better one eventually."

the blood rushes to your face immediately. sae doesn't seem phased at all, even if he's just confessed that he's going to marry you.

"i-"

sae sneezes. once, and then twice.

you grab his arm. "okay. you are getting into some warm clothes."

he frowns, but follows you up the stairs anyway.

when the two of you reach the bedroom, you stop him by the door.

"you know, i only wanted two words."

his head tilts almost imperceptibly, confusion leaking-

sae smiles. "happy birthday."

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[thewordfortheday]

Jesus rose from the dead! Hallelujah! If you believe in this truth, you are immensely blessed in many ways..

Romans 10.9 says,

…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.

Romans 6:9 says, For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, He cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over Him.

Jesus rose from the dead, and therefore He has defeated death.

Ephesians 2:4-5 says,

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ…

Because Jesus rose from the dead, He raises us from spiritual death, and physical death too.

If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you. 1 Corinthians 15:22-23

Because Jesus rose from the dead, He can heal the sick,  Acts 4.10 says

let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead—by Him this man is standing before you well.

Because Jesus rose from the dead, we have someone constantly praying for us Romans 8.34

Christ Jesus is the one who died–more than that, who was raised–who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.

I have given you a few of the blessings we receive because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. I hope you will understand the significance of this event, even more deeply as you meditate on His word.

[mintaikkcorpse]

Why Blitzø Likes Stolas

I've made jokes about Blitzø liking Stolas bcuz his type is tall, rich, powerful demons with musical talent, and that's probably kinda true, but I wanna talk about the real reasons Blitzø likes Stolas. Tldr at the end.

I think one of the major reasons Blitzø likes Stolas is how kind, sincere, and affectionate he is. Stolas is always making sure he is okay and is very passionate about litterally everything he does (dramatic little bitch, lol). And while he's ignorant ("my impish little plaything"???), he does mean well. Taking Octavia to Looloo Land to make her feel better, Going full demon mode to save IMP, his attentiveness to Blitzø during his mental breakdown in Seeing Stars, him absolutely adoring Octavia, him helping Ozzie when he gained no real benefit, etc, etc.

Also, expanding more on the affectionate part, Blitzø is shown to not get much affection or love in his life at all. His family situation was a giant mess (his dad literally sold him for 5 bucks and a condom Jesus Christ-), and Stolas is a very loving and affectionate person. Obviously, this is shown with Blitzø, but also with Octavia ('my precious little starfire', always staying patient with Via, even if he can be a bit dismissive, going full demon mode when Blitzø said he lost Via), and even his plants (he raised the flesh-eating plant since he was a kid, he pets the plant, on his insta he called a puprle rose "a handsome little rose"). And yeah, he's going to be affectione with Via, that's his daughter, but in Hell, (or maybe just from Blitzø's perspective, it'a hard to tell honestly) that's shown to be a rarity. So obviously, he's going to admire that about him.

And also, compare that to Blitzø's life. His dad saw him as less than, something happened that made his sister hate him, his mom seemed to be a good parent, but she's dead, his best friend and former crush hated his guts for 15 years, his daughter does care about him but she also mostly just shows anger and annoyance with him, and even Moxxie, who'd I'd argue is his best friend, gets annoyed with him constantly (I would too tbh but this isn't about that). Stolas just being his loving and affectionate self and being so happy to see him and always being so sweet to Blitzø is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Another thing is that Stolas shows clear interest in the things he likes. Take horses as example, bcuz we all know Blitzø is obsessed with them. Most of the time, his friends are pretty passive about it, but Stolas actually indulges him. Some of this is from their instas, but Stolas got him a horse Hoodie, he draws horses with him, and Stolas even got inspired to draw because of Blitzø.

(Also, plz note that in another post he commented that it smells like Stolas, and I want everyone to appreciate how happy he looks in this photo while smelling it again)

Blitzø probably admires Stolas's theatrics as well because despite growing up in a Circus where you were supposed to be dramatic and showy, he was still always taught to ignore or hide his true emotions (Cash ignoring that he didn't want to go to the Goetia Palace because "MONEY"). And while Stolas was raised the same way, he still wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and is always showing them, whether it be positive or negative

And we all know thst Blitzø has major self hatred issues, but Stolas was genuinely interested in Blitzø as a person. Laughing at his jokes, asking how his day went, and with all of this, you can't help but wonder if Blitzø was figuring out that he did too. I think that's why he was so heartbroken about Ozzie's. Because to him, Stolas hiding his face was just proof that Stolas didn't care. That he was just a little plaything. But, Blitzø liked that Stolas liked him for who he was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be someone different.

Yes, ik Blitzø wasn't here for some of them, and he thinks that Stolas is just faking all of this. BUT, Blitzø can notice things subconsciously, and the stuff that Blitzø wasn't there for was to talk about Stolas's character as well. That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what Blitzø sees in Stolas and his character.

Feel free to add anything if you want! I'd love to hear your guy's opinions, takes, and thoughts on the ship. I'm probably gonna a make a post on why Stolas likes Blitzø at some point, lol

Tldr; Blitzø likes Stolas because he's kind, sincere, loving, affectionate, passionate, caring, dramatic, and likes Blitzø for who he is.

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise, ch. 1

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.2k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

a/n: hello! i’m back, i accidentally deleted my blog :( but!!! i am gonna try and repost all the fics i have so if you see any fic that seems familiar it might be mine lol 🫶

next | masterlist

“christ, going to visit my parents was your idea in the first place, don’t put this on me” your boyfriend lamented, sighing and folding his arms across his chest like a child. 

your hands gripped the steering wheel with an audible squeak from the leather along with you gritting your teeth to avoid a number of profanities from slipping out. your boyfriend, nathan, had complained for months that you were never interested in his life, or that you hadn’t seemed as invested in the relationship as he was. never mind the fact that you would plan every date, or that he forgot your birthday and went out with friends instead, leaving you alone at home with a pint of ice cream. 

being the good girlfriend you were, you suggested a road trip to go visit his parents, something you supposed you both wanted. you were dead wrong, apparently. the moment you brought it up, he seemed more ambivalent than happy about it and come the day of the trip, he dragged his feet all the way. 

so now here you were, driving your car along the english countryside, because his was too nice to drive on all these dirt roads. 

“nathan, i was trying to do something nice, for the both of us, and all i asked was that you some snacks for the way.” 

he rolled his eyes, huffing with contempt, “yeah. and i did, for me. i figured you were getting your own stuff.” 

you looked up to the roof of the car, muttering a silent prayer to whatever gods could hear. “fine, it’s fine. i don’t even care anymore, i.. i guess i should have clarified, i’m sorry.” 

he just muttered some incoherent complaints and looked out the window. you sighed slightly and took the silence to allow yourself to admire the countryside rolling by in peace. the hills covered in lush, green grass, cows dotting the landscape. you could almost imagine living here, waking up to the sound of birds chirping for once instead of someone shouting bloody murder outside your flat’s window. 

you smiled softly at the idea of walking outside onto the dewy lawn with your bare feet and not having to worry about some junkie leaving behind a used syringe. the daydream was interrupted by your boyfriend shouting your name. the front of the car had started smoking, plumes of grey billowing out from under the hood. 

“shit!” you cried out, braking suddenly and jolting the two of you slightly in your seats. 

“the hell is wrong with your car?” nathan asked, looking over at you with a glare. 

“i- i don’t know. it was perfectly fine yesterday and i took it to the shops a couple of months ago for a checkup. do you mind checking under the hood?” you looked over at him. 

he looked slightly taken aback at that, “me? i don’t know about cars, besides, it’s not my car that’s gone and killed itself. why don’t you go check?” 

you supposed you couldn’t argue with his logic, it was your car after all, but you still scowled slightly as you put the car in park and popped the hood. you opened the door and stepped out, looking at nathan in the passenger seat, who took about .5 seconds of worrying before looking at his phone again. 

you let out a frustrated grunt and stomped over to the front of the car, pulling up the hood. the smoke immediately rose up to meet your face and you waved it away, coughing and grimacing. after a moment of wafting away the smoke, you were finally able to look over your engine and.. all of that other stuff. 

yeah, you knew nothing about cars. 

you thought that maybe talking a look under the hood would automatically make you a mechanic, but apparently that’s not true. pulling out your phone, you tried to look up on google something along the lines of “my car is smoking. what do i do?” but you had not a singular bar. 

groaning slightly, you shut your phone off and began to shut the hood and give up when you heard the crunch of gravel behind you. turning to look, you saw a beat-up old truck heading your way, stopping at the edge of the grass where you had pulled off the road. 

you looked between the truck and your car where your boyfriend sat in the front seat, not even looking up from his phone, probably too busy playing clash of clans or some dumb shit like that. 

what if whoever was in the truck was a serial killer or something and your boyfriend was too busy playing subway surfers to even notice you getting kidnapped? 

you swallowed nervously as the door of the truck swung open with a loud squeak. out stepped a man that made you swallow for an entirely different reason. 

he had dark brown hair and a thick, well-maintained beard. his bright blue eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled warmly at you, something so easy about the way he smiled that had your knees buckling. and if they did, then he could easily catch you with his arms, tanned and muscular, the arms of a man who spent his life working in some kind of physical labor. 

“engine trouble?” he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling thing that made your brain go fuzzy. 

“oh.. uh, yeah, maybe? i don’t know for sure. the car just started smoking so i pulled over to look at it” you said, finding it hard to talk with your mouth having gone dry. the sound of a car door opening and the sight of your boyfriend stepping out made your face fall slightly. 

you have a boyfriend, right. almost forgot because you were too busy imagining those arms wrapped around- nathan speaking broke you out of your thoughts. 

“who are you?” he asked, in a tone that made you wince. looking over at the stranger though, it didn’t even seem like he flinched at nathan puffing up his feathers. 

“i’m john, nice to meet you,” john put out his hand for nathan to take. which he did, hesitantly, grimacing slightly at the force john used. 

“right, i’m nathan.” he eyes flicked over to you, “not gonna introduce your bird?” 

your cheeks flushed, “oh, uh, yeah” you stuttered uselessly before telling him your name. 

“beautiful name for a beautiful girl” he winked at you. your mouth fell agape slightly  and nathan inhaled a sharp breath, “what do you want, man? we got this handled.” when john’s eyes flicked back to nathan they hardened ever so slightly, even though he still sported a grin on his face. 

“just thought i’d offer my help, i mean, it doesn’t seem like you know what you’re doing if you’re making your girl do all the work.” 

at that, nathan’s face contorted with rage and he took a step towards john, whose grin only widened at that. after a second to process what happened, you immediately stepped in front of nathan, pressing your hands to his chest, “babe, stop. he’s- he’s just joking, right?” you looked pointedly to john, waiting for him to back you up. you knew it would only end badly if nathan wasn’t calmed down, not because nathan was going to hurt the stranger but because you definitely knew nathan wouldn’t stand a chance against him. 

glancing between you and your boyfriend, john relented, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to offend you. i was just joking.” looking back to nathan, you noticed his nostrils flare slightly in discontent but he backed down. 

“yeah, well, don’t do it again,” nathan huffed. you relaxed slightly, letting your hands slip down from his chest to by your sides again. 

“look, i’ll make it up to you. i can tow your car to the nearest mechanic. i happen to know the guy and he can give you a friends and family discount” john said, eyes glancing between you and your boyfriend. 

nathan eyed him suspiciously for a second but then nodded, “alright, fine.” john then looked to you and it took a moment before you realized he was waiting for your input. “oh! i didn’t realize you were asking me too. yes, of course, thank you, that’d be wonderful” you said hurriedly. nathan shot you a dirty look when john turned around to go grab some equipment from his truck, 

“what the hell was that?” he hissed. “was what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant. “you, practically starry-eyed, looking at him. acting as if your boyfriend wasn’t standing right there” he glared at you. “i.. i wasn’t starry-eyed” you said softly, it was a weak defense but you couldn’t help but think he was right. a random man off the road looks at you for more than five seconds and you’re already on your back with your belly up for scratches. “whatever, we can talk about this after the car gets fixed.” 

after john secured the straps between the cars he admitted that he only had so much seat space in his truck and that one person was going to have to stay in your car for the ride there. suffice to say, nathan wasn’t happy about that. 

“can’t we both sit in the car?” he practically whined. 

john shrugged, “i guess so, but there’s no use in adding any more weight to the amount i’m towing, takes unnecessary risk, right?” 

nathan’s lip twitched in annoyance but he couldn’t really find a reason to argue with him, “fine, i’ll sit in the truck with you.” 

john looked amused at that, “making your girl sit in the car all by herself? it’s really none of my business but-“”fine! she can sit up front with you, then. jesus,” nathan said, throwing up his arms and practically stomping his way over to the car. 

you winced as he slammed the car door shut and looked apologetically over at john, 

“sorry, he’s just.. stressed.” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “stressed, right.” 

you bit the inside of your cheek at john’s obvious lack of belief but said nothing else to persuade him, it wouldn’t do any good. the truck door squeaked open as john opened the passenger side for you, gesturing with his other hand, “in you get, sweetheart.” 

you blushed slightly at his casual use of pet names, muttering a small thank you as you got in. john shut the door and then got in on his side, sliding across the worn leather bench, his warm thighs practically pressing against yours. he wasn’t lying, the seating in here was limited and you couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if nathan had tried to ride up here with the two of you. 

you’re honestly surprised he didn’t. something about john made you want to listen to him, and you could guess that even though nathan was stubborn, he subconsciously felt the same way. 

“so, where were you headed? doesn’t seem like you’re from around here” he broke the silence. 

“oh, uh, nathan’s parents’ house, he hasn’t seen them in a while, and we figured it was time for me to meet them since we’re coming up on our third anniversary,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap. 

“ah, the in-laws” he chuckled lightly. 

“oh, me and nathan we’re not- i mean, we’re just dating right now. not engaged or anything.” 

“three years and he hasn’t put a ring on that pretty finger? hm.” john frowned. 

“nathan wants to take it slow. he doesn’t want to rush into anything,” you said, but it felt more like an automated response than something you actually agreed with. sure, there was nothing wrong with taking your time but anytime you brought up marriage or anything like that, nathan would get all defensive. it happened enough that you just stopped bringing it up altogether, and you hadn’t realized until now how much that had hurt you. 

“sorry, i overstepped, didnt’t i? laswell’s always telling me i need to stop interrogating people, but old habits die hard.” 

“you were in the military, then?” in hindsight you should have guessed something like that, from the way he stood with perfect posture or how he spoke from a place of authority, was likely an officer of some kind. 

“yes ma’am, special forces. i served my time, but now i’m retired and trying to put it all behind me.” 

you nodded along, “but old habits die hard” you said the words he left hanging in the air. 

“exactly” he smiled over at you, making you melt into the seat. 

collecting yourself, you cleared your throat then asked, “so what do you do now?” 

“ah, inherited a bit of land from my grandad on my mum’s side. decided that when i retired, i would move to the countryside and start a farm.” 

you laughed to yourself imagining him chasing around an escaped chicken but quickly stifled it behind your hand. he furrowed his eyebrows but looked at you more quizzically than the scalding expression nathan would have given you, 

“and what’s so funny about that, miss?” 

you shook your head, “nothing, really. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh at you.” 

“no need to apologize, i like seeing you laugh” he said, something that slipped so casually from his lips it almost startled you. 

“thank you” you murmured, looking out the window to hide your flushed cheeks. just in time to save your embarrassment, john slowed the truck to a stop outside a small mechanic shop that read ‘tav and riley repairs.’

taglist: (sorry for tagging you guys again but i just wanted to lyk what’s up with the fic, i won’t tag you again til ch 5 is up)

@the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

@valeissocute

@dneicjefx

@liidiaag

@lilynotdilly

@sleep101

@yellow-cat

@snailss

@nellabear

@eternallyvenus

@bookishthoughtss

@lunerbitch

@horny-bish

@sunna-fangirls

@nexthyperfix

@princeofnonsense

@supernova2205

@beebeechaos

@appl3-0rchard

@shadowwolf8002

@mismatchsposts

@dragonbe-writing

@honestlymassivetrash

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@skeletonsucker

[fetacheeseluvr]

Run Away - Trafalgar Law x Reader - Chapter 2

Authors Note: Finally finished chapter two! I hope you guys enjoy :) THANK YOU FOR 50 LIKES ON CHAPTER ONE EEEK THATS SO EXCITING! My AO3 is also fetacheeseluvr if you would like to read more of my future stuff on there too! OK THANK YOU

Tags: TW FOR SWEARING AND BLOOD, flashbacks, fluff, comfort

^ Here's chapter 1 if you haven't read it

-

2 Months Prior

You were in a haze.

You were on your hands and knees, scrubbing the deck of the Polar Tang as your hands began to bleed. You could feel bruises forming across your body while your muscles ached in defiance of your intent, breath staggering as your lungs froze from the cold that numbed your skin.

Everything was so messy.

The Heart Pirates had underestimated another pirate crew that attempted to assassinate your captain for his bounty, they ended up having a variety of different devil fruits that pushed your crews strength to its limit.

The air reeked of gun powder and ash, with hints of blood being carried in the wind if you focused hard enough. And it was all you could focus on, as it was painted across everything in sight. Loud groans and moans could be heard across the submarine while Law continued to preform a multitude of different surgeries on your crew, it has been going non-stop for hours; each cry you heard felt like a punishment from god.

The anger you felt made the pain that coursed throughout your body morph into nothing, you had no right to come out of the battle this unscathed. While your crew is fighting for their lives, here you were; not even able to clean fucking blood off this fucking deck. The humiliation you felt was not enough, the shame, the regret; you hoped the pirates rose from the dead so you could kill them all over again by yourself.

You are in purgatory.

You didn't even hear the door to the Polar Tang slam open.

"Christ, Y/N! What the hell are you doing!?", you are shocked out of your coma when you hear Law yell your name, your scrubbing coming to a sudden halt.

You freeze, slowly turning around to see Law staring down at you with widened eyes and hung mouth, his face covered in horror.

He was wearing his lab coat, once white is now covered in splatters of fresh and old blood. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, his eyes were sunken in and bloodshot. He was frozen in place, chest heaving and breaths uneven.

He looked scared. Was he having a hard time in surgery? Did he need your help?

"Law." You manage to choke out, not realizing how hoarse your voice was.

"Why the hell are you out here? You're injured-" He shouts harshly, yet his voice is riddled with a hidden concern that you manage to pick up. He starts to approach you, reaching for the stethoscope that is hanging around his neck.

"Go away, Law. I'm fine, I need to finish cleaning the deck." You quickly spit back, more angrily than you had intended. He did not have time to concern himself with you. You were upright, you weren't passed out in the infirmary or crying in pain. You were absolutely useless in battle, you couldn't save your crew from a few fucking pirates. You did nothing and yet your not the one paying for your failures. You were fine.

All this blood is so messy.

The stomping thats approaching you doesn't slow down, "Do you realize how long you have been out here? You aren't thinking straight right now.", he fights back.

Before he could get any closer, you plant your hands on the deck to help you get on your feet. Your muscles scream at you as you shakily begin to stand up, slowly becoming upright to face your captain. A sharp needle-like pain shoots up your legs as you try to keep your balance, vision blurring in and out of focus.

"Why the hell are you worried about me right now? The crew is-"

"Room. Shambles."

You feel yourself fall onto a cushion before you could process what just happened. You quickly scan your surroundings to see an empty operating room, you had never realized how eerie the dimmed iridescent lights made the space feel. Dread consumed you as you look down at the floor, blood painted across the cold blue tile. Your mind returns to questions about the state of your crew; why aren't they here? Are they all alive? Why is it suddenly so quiet? The sudden warm air meeting your cold skin makes your body shake involuntarily, you don't know what to do with yourself.

You then see Law walk past you, his gloves snapping as he pulls it up his arms. He then rolls a small table beside your seat, with nothing but a large bowl of water and a cloth. He dips the cloth into the bowl and rings out the excess water, before looking down at you. He looks so exhausted it's almost too much to watch, his drooping eyes making it seem as though he is about to fall asleep standing up. He was pale, dark bags dressing his under-eyes; yet here he was trying to take care of you. It almost made you want to puke, never feeling so weak and small in your life.

"You should rest, I can clean myself-"

"Shut up and give me your arm."

Law then takes your arm, not giving you any time to respond. He then begins to clean the stained and fresh blood off your skin, his touch so gentle you could barley feel it. The warm water clashed against your frozen skin, the instant relief sending shivers down your spine, as if you were bathing in the fountain of youth.

"You were out there for hours, Y/N. What the hell were you thinking? It's the middle of winter."

Law asks with a concerned sigh, you could feel his eyes glaring at you. It made you feel small, like the sun consuming shadows as it moves across the sky. Yet, you were too embarrassed to look back at him, so you continued to watch his hand as it scrubbed your arm.

"I was completely useless in battle, so I thought I'd at least clean the deck while you were treating everyone."

You admitted quietly, lips quivering in frustration.

"I'm sorry, captain."

He pauses what he's doing, which causes you to finally look up and face him. His eyebrows were pinched, eyes squinted as he was trying to read your face.

"What are you talking about?"

Was he mocking you? Or trying to test you to see how regretful you were?

"Because of my failure, the rest of the crew is fighting for their lives right now."

You look down at your lap, jaw clenched as your free hand balled in your lap in frustration. You deserved this ridicule, and whatever punishment followed once he was done with you. You deserved to be thrown out of the crew, it's not like they would even want to face you once they were healed.

"Yet here I am, completely fine when I should be dead."

Your eyes welled up before you could attempt to contain it, hands shaking as you tried to hold yourself together. He must think I look pathetic right now, or that I'm trying to cry to gain sympathy-

"Y/N, look at me."

You feel a warm glove on your cheek gently lift up your head, causing you to blink away the tears that blurred your vision. You were met with Law looking at you tenderly, like you would break if he looked at your the wrong way. The operating light that hung above you illuminated his face, which made him look warm, like an angel that was sent down to lead you to the heavens. His cheeks were dusted with a light blush, making him appear less strained. Your breath hitched, this image being too much for you to bear. How could someone surrounded by so much darkness still be so bright?

"You are running off pure adrenaline right now, you aren't fine."

He responds softly yet matter of factly, like he was trying to ground you back to reality. As the cold began to wear off your skin, you felt the reality of your injuries. The sting of all the cuts, the ache of the bruises, the stabbing of the frostbite; you weren't fine.

"It seems like the cold mixed with your injuries sent you in a fit of mania, and apparently memory loss."

He scoffs lightheartedly, letting go of your face before turning to head to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a tray of various medical supplies and placed it on the table beside you, then taking off his bloody gloves and throwing them to the ground.

"You fought well, and the rest of the crew isn't your responsibility. You did nothing wrong, so just try and relax, you deserve to heal too."

He walks up to you, eyes unreadable as he gently lifts his hand to hold onto the back of your neck, while the other grabbed the bottom of your arm as he lead you to lay back on the bed. He was so close, and you couldn't look away as he looked back at you. The feeling of his rough skin on the nape of your neck was electrifying, it almost didn't feel real. Everything was so hazy and confusing, you were dancing between the lines of dreams and reality; until he touched you. It felt as though he saved your from drowning in angry waters, or as if he was a siren that could control said waters. He was a mystery that you wanted to tenderly unravel, no matter how long it took, and no matter what you saw as you pulled back the layers.

Before your back met the cushion, you threw your arms around his neck. You didn't know what you were doing, maybe your brain wasn't fully working yet, but to let go of how he was making you feel. Your hands balled up the fabric on his back, face buried in his warm chest. You felt him twitch, heart beating quickly in his chest as he froze in spot. You knew he wasn't used to physical affection, making you second guess your choice. As you began to let go, you suddenly felt a strong arm drape across your back, holding you against him. You feel his shoulders begin to relax, yet his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, making you blush into his white coat. You hear him chuckle, the vibration buzzing in his chest.

"What am I going to do with you?"

He asks light heartedly, like he has lost a battle he has been fighting for far too long. Suddenly, drowsiness consumed your senses as your eyes began to flicker closed, hands slowly letting go his shirt. You began to fall back into the bed, your body failing to keep you upright any longer. Your mind began to shut down, and you smiled to yourself,

"Whatever you want."

-

Present day

You hugged yourself at the memory, trying to regain an ounce of the warmth you felt in that moment.

You sat alone outside of the hideout, looking up at the stars that scattered the dark sky. The air was numbing, just like that day, which sent you down a spiral of memories. Reminiscing was all you could do after you overheard Bepo saying that Law might never return, that these memories could be all that you have left of him.

You couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, like a child that freezes in fear atop of a long slide. You couldn't yet face the reality of the situation you and your crew were in, so you tried to distract yourself with what made you feel good, and in this moment, the faint warmth that rose on your cheeks while you thought of these memories was all you could think of doing.

You suddenly heard quickened footsteps behind you, causing you to turn around, seeing Bepo slam open the door to the patio. His chest rising and falling quickly as he frantically scans around before spotting you, holding onto a newspaper."

"Y/N! He defeated Doflamingo in Dressrosa! He's coming back!"

He yells excitedly as he runs up to you, shoving the paper into your hands. Your breath hitches as you see his face beside Luffy's and Doflamingo's on the front page, the headline reading:

'Doflamingo defeated by Trafalgar Law and Strawhat Luffy's Powerful Alliance'

Your fists balled up the sides of the paper in your hands; your body burning with a sudden pent up rage.

Next chapter:

[softspiderling]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You rarely had a night by yourselves most days.

Majority of them, you were either hanging out with Rafe, yours or his place, didn’t really make a difference, or you were out with your friends.

This Saturday night, you were by yourself, a rare occasion.

Rafe and Sarah were in Charleston with their family for some charity that Rose was a part of. When Rafe first invited you to come, you declined, saying you’d rather stay home and hang with your friends or something (he was huffing and puffing about it for hours afterwards, until you made it up to him). When the weekend came around, you realized that all of your friends seemed to be busy: Cleo and Pope were driving out to fish with his parents and made a whole weekend out of it, John B and JJ went to Hatteras island for some surfing competition and Kie had to help her parents at the Wreck because they were hosting an event.

John B and JJ had invited you to tag along, but you a: you weren’t a good enough of a surfer to participate in the competition and b: you didn’t want to sit at the beach by yourself while the boys were in the water. You had half a mind to take up Rafe for the invitation to the charity but it was extremely last minute and you didn’t have anything to wear so you scratched that idea and came to terms with spending your Saturday night by yourself.

Since the event at the Wreck didn’t start until 7, you spent the day hanging out there with Kie, snacking on some fries, drinking your weight in iced tea and texting Rafe until you had to leave to let Kie prep for the event.

you: i’m actually so bored, i’m starting to regret not coming with you 😞

rafe❤️: told you to come, didn’t i?

rafe❤️: shows that you should always listen to me.

you: pfff, please, that is not the moral of the story.

you: maybe i’ll just go to a party 🤪

rafe❤️: funny.

You tossed your phone on the couch and ran your hand through your air, sighing in frustration. As you reached for your phone again for mindless scrolling, your eye caught onto your nails, and you paused. You hadn’t done your nails in a while, mostly because you were so busy. But now would be the perfect opportunity. So you got all your nail polishes and tools out of your closet and started on prep.

About four hours later you still weren’t done. You spent the first hour on looking for inspiration on Pinterest and then the next half hour booting up Netflix so you had something to watch while you were doing your nails. Your iced coke was chilling on the table, the UV lamp curing the last layer of polish on your right hand before you could finish with top coat. Your phone was long dead, but you were too lazy to get up from the table to plug it in, your back killing you from sitting hunched over your table for so long. Yawning, you put on the top coat on your last nail before sticking your hand under the lamp, ready to fall go to bed right after you were done. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done your nails for a while. After you were finished, you packed all the things away, plugged your phone into the charger and passed out in bed.

You woke up with a start, disoriented for a second. It felt like you’d been asleep for barely an hour, but you were unsure what woke you from the slumber, when the door bell rang again.

“What the hell,” you muttered to yourself, throwing a sweater over before you padded downstairs, hearing that the person at the door has begun to knock excessively.

“Jesus Christ, I’ll be right there!” you called, hurrying down the stairs. You glanced through the window, trying to see what psycho was ringing on your doorbell in the middle of the night, just to see Rafe standing in front of the door, clearly upset.

You opened the door, barely getting a word in before he rushed inside, grabbing your arms.

“Rafe, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked hotly, staring at you before looking you up and down. “Who have you been with? Why the fuck didn’t you text me back?”

You were starting to get anxious from his behavior and you cupped his face. “Rafe, stop. Breathe. What happened?”

Rafe took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a second.

“You haven’t replied to a text since like before eight, and your last message was about going to a party. I thought something had happened,” he gritted out. “No one was able to reach you and my calls weren’t getting through to you.”

You exhaled deeply. “God, I thought something happened to Sarah. I’m fine, babe. I was doing my nails and my phone died,” you explained, lifting your hand to show off your nails. Rafe looked at him, his eyes narrowed.

“Pretty,” he grunted, before wrapping his arms around you. “Never do that again.”

As you hugged him, you could feel the tension bleed out from his limbs and you couldn’t help but smile into his shirt.

“You’re crazy, Rafe. As if I would ever go to a party by myself,” you huffed, pulling away to look up at him. “How did you even get here so fast? I thought you guys were supposed to spend the night in Charleston.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I took the boat. Ward is super pissed off because I left them stranded.”

You bit back a laugh, only shaking your head at your boyfriend.

“You’re such a worrier, I was asleep.”

“Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” he muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: quick lil drabble bc i thought of how unreachable i am when doing my nails

[cultkinkcoven]

People ask me all the time why I’m not a Christian. Why would I possibly be pagan? I claim to know all this stuff about the Bible but I somehow don’t subscribe to it? Do I not believe in Jesus’ teachings?

You wanna know the real reason why I personally feel compelled to not be a Christian? It’s not because I disagree with certain laws or think that Jesus didn’t have any valuable teachings. Despite my differences in opinion on morality, things like being lgbtq, the role of a woman, the importance of witchcraft etc, I could get over all that nitpicky stuff if I felt truly inspired by the story.

There are only two real reasons why I don’t subscribe to the Christian doctrine

1. Return to a perfect past

I find it hard to conceptualize a God that refers to his people as his slaves and servants, I have a lot to say about the doctrine that is supremacy, which lays the foundation for Christian theology, but beyond that, this idea of “God is all good and the only reason anything negative ever happens is because Satan brought death and sin into the world” is actually a very interesting idea to me. Like no, evil and death isn’t natural at all you’re just so used to living in an evil world that you can no longer recognize the original creation. God tells us to turn away from the world because the world is no longer his perfect creation but an amalgamation of his creation with the evil of Satan and man.

I like this idea, but I also think it’s incredibly flawed. It’s typical for many religions to glamorize the ancient past, and believe that there is a perfect beginning.

I think about when my bf buys me roses, I immediately hang them out to dry and let them die. Somehow they seem more beautiful to me that way, in an eternal state of dead perfection, wilted and faded, but somehow still alive in some way. Death doesn’t do us part, I can appreciate them forever though death and beyond. I think about moldy bread, how disgusted it makes me, but how fascinating it is to view up close when you actually pay attention.

In a pre-sin/death world, dead, dried roses and moldy bread wouldn’t be a thing. Is a world without death perfect? Is eternal life greater than eternity in death? Is a painless world perfect to a masochist?

I think that ancient peoples romanticized the past for the same reason we do, they weren’t there. Somehow, it’s more comfortable to believe we fucked up somewhere along the way, and if we could just figure out what it was, we could return to that state of perfection.

One of my favourite stories is Paradise Lost. Within it, when Adam and Eve are banished from the garden of eden, there is a very powerful exchange between the two, wherein Adam says to Eve, despite our sins and the wickedness of the world, I will still love you. You are still the queen of eden to me. We still have each other. The true testament of love is being able to love even in the face of adversity.

Although tragic, I believe this is what humanity has always been doing. Perhaps we didn’t come from a perfect beginning, perhaps we crawled our way to the top of the evolutionary ladder with white knuckles. Perhaps the world has always been perfectly imperfect, and we have still managed to find this divine love along the way. I don’t see the point in desperately trying to go backwards, when these experiences have only made us stronger. The tragedy is the acceptance of cause and effect. Is suffering a perfect invention because liberation was born from it? Christianity says it’s not, that the cost of human suffering was not worth whatever we gained, that satan made an unnecessary and frivolous mistake. I struggle to conceptualize world in which the entirety of human history as it has played out has been a cosmological mistake.

I believe that we are children finding our way, slowly, very fucking slowly, but surely.

and this leads into my second reason.

I honestly don’t really have anything against Jesus Christ. In my mind he is an entirely neutral character, not because I don’t believe in his existence, but because if I believe he is real, I pity him more than anything else.

In my opinion, Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, though a very beautiful and interesting philosophical idea, did not save humanity, and did not set us free. It didn’t save the world and it does not provide us with the tools to save the world.

Within the Christian theology, no man can get to God except through Christ. This is because Jesus died for our sins, he payed the price so we could see salvation. God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that all those who believe in him may have eternal life. Christianity fundamentally operates on the idea that the sacrifice of the most pure, most innocent, is the necessary price to pay for the salvation of everyone. To deliver humanity from sin, the most virtuous human had to be sacrificed. Humanity had to essentially spiritually cannibalize itself, eat the body and drink the blood of Jesus to be cleansed. And I honestly, absolutely despise that idea.

I say I pity Jesus, not only because of the way his legacy has been bastardized and fetishized on a global scale, (Jesus was God but he was also a human, at one time he was a child. Imagine being a 10 year old Jesus and knowing the implications of your existence) but also because I don’t think his sacrifice saved the world, I don’t think it saved me. Spiritual salvation is a plan to bail everyone out after they die, after revelations. There is no plan to save this world because at least theologically, God does not have faith in humanity to save this world. Jesus’ plan is an escape plan, one that comes to save all the righteous while the wicked burn for eternity.

I disagree, and maybe it’s my naivety. I believe that we can save this world, not by casting out the wicked, but by collectively doing the basic human fundamental, just loving each other. The key to save the world has always been simple. Love has never been a popular movement. Every conflict in all of humanity would be resolved if we all saw each other as kin. Disentangling the systems of oppression and supremacy that have always rotten the world. That means fighting evil, that means tragedy and violence. But just as we have taught ourselves many doctrines over the centuries, I believe, or hope, with enough time, we can teach ourselves a doctrine of love and empathy. I believe most humans are capable of this. And I believe that we can have extra humanity to handle and disarm those that aren’t.

“but Jesus tried to do that and humans killed him!”

They killed Huey P. Newton too. We keep on fighting. Not because we want to be assured in death that we are good people. But because, if there is a chance for a world in which children can sleep on fields of grass and the words “war” and “hunger” are ancient memories, where trees whose names I know can grow as tall as the heavens and water is always clean, then I will fight my hardest to push the world towards that future. And if I die before I see it, then I hope you keep on pushing for me. That is the love that humanity has for itself, and there is no God that can do that for us.

The Bible says that God so loved the world that he gave his only son. I wish that God so loved the world that he came to fight alongside all his children, and didn’t give up until he had finally touched the heart of every human, made them understand the value of this world, the world we have right now, and the life we have right now before it is engulfed in flames. You, all powerful God, could not change the hearts of men? Because they refused you? Because they, in their ignorance, embraced the world that birthed them, and not the stranger that abandoned it? Shook it up and started over, again, because the mess was too ugly to clean up? I don’t believe you.

There are multiple times in the Bible where it says that humans are evil, and I simply don’t believe it. People are born with mental disorders and acclimate to trauma, but I do not believe that people are born evil, and I don’t believe in a God who lets his children burn. Whether that be in a fiery Hell or in the dark separation from light.

It is only through knowledge that we have disabled these beliefs in evil people. You aren’t possessed by demons, you have BPD. You’re not evil, you have autism. We can understand each other if we only take the time to try. And understanding is the one thing that humanity has always craved.

We are children, we are born without understanding and come to know the world as it interacts with us. We have the infinite potential to learn and that’s what makes us so special as a species. Humans, these insatiably curious creatures who will not stop until they have seen every star, turned over every rock, and documented every crevice of the ocean floor. What better creature to inhabit the earth, and who else to save it?

If Jesus died for my sins, thanks. I didn’t ask you to do that, and I’m not going to depend on it. If there truly is a God that is good, then I will prove myself to him though my actions and love towards his creation. And if he deduces that I am evil, I will not use the shedded blood of the innocent to rectify myself. I’m sick in dealing in blood, I don’t have to think in the same terms as a War God.

Idk, maybe that’s just the Luciferian in me.

[chvoswxtch]

confession

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: one confession changes everything.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, bombs, blood & violence

word count: 5.5k

a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn. i hope y'all are hungry for drama, bc that's exactly what i whipped up. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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The second you burst through the door to Billy’s office, three sets of eyes were immediately on you. A look of pure annoyance settled on Frank’s face when he saw that you had directly disobeyed his order to wait in the truck, and he instantly began to stalk over towards you while grunting under his breath. 

“I told you to wait in the-“

Something in your eyes must have caught his attention, because Frank abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and the irritation plastered on his face quickly shifted into a look you weren’t familiar with seeing on his hardened features. 

Fear.

The movement of someone hastily rising from their chair caught your eye, and your lethal gaze completely bypassed Billy’s evident look of surprise to land on the culprit of your imminent wrath. 

“Y/N, oh thank God. Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for-“

Crack. 

The moment your fist collided with Steven’s face, pain shot through your knuckles, and you tore your hand away as if you had touched a hot stove top, clutching your hand to your chest with a tight grimace on your face as you groaned. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Billy’s dark brows rose significantly up his forehead, and his jaw went slack in astonishment. Frank’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he gawked at you in complete shock. Below you, Steven was on the ground, holding his nose and groaning in agony as deep streams of crimson slipped through his fingers. 

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that for?” 

“It was you, you son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about-”

“No I don’t, what the fuck is your problem? You on your period or something, that why you’re acting so fucking crazy?”

Steven’s words only fueled your rage and made you completely blindsided by your own anger. You weren’t thinking clearly, and when Billy came around his desk to stand beside you to assess the situation, you reached out to quickly pull his gun from his holster to aim it directly at Steven, whose expression of exasperation swiftly morphed into pure panic as he stared up at the barrel of the gun in your hand. 

Billy immediately lept into action, grabbing onto your wrist tightly with his right hand to push the gun’s barrel away from Steven’s face while his left hand gripped onto your arm to lock it in place. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy, darlin’.”

Behind you, Frank’s boots thudded heavily against the floor in a rush, and you soon felt the heat of his palm against your lower back through the thin material of your shirt. His other large hand reached over Billy’s to grip onto the barrel of the gun, keeping you from pointing it where you wanted to. Normally being so close to Frank that you could feel the tickle of his warm breath against your ear would’ve sent a shiver trickling down your spine, but the fury you felt seemed to singe every nerve ending that would’ve otherwise been affected by the juxtaposition of his gruff voice pleading gently with you. 

“Easy, sweetheart. Gimme the gun. Whatever you think you wanna do right now, you don’t.”

“I want him to admit it.”

Steven swallowed thickly as you spit your venom at him through gritted teeth. Your eyes hadn’t left his once since they locked onto him when you stepped into Billy’s office. He wiped the blood lingering above his thin top lip with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric a deep shade of maroon, and raised both of his hands slowly in a show of surrender as he stared up at you in trepidation.

“Y/N…whatever you think I did-“

“I don’t think. I know. You’re behind the Defenders of Freedom. All of this shit-all the people that have been hurt, all the people that have died-I almost died because of you.”

Steven let out a nervous chuckle as he shook his head slowly, moving to sit up on his knees as he stared up at you in bewilderment. 

“What? That’s…that’s crazy. I was attacked by them. I don’t know why you would-“

Before he could utter another lie, you lifted your phone in your other hand that wasn’t still gripping onto the gun and started playing the recording you had, causing the entire room to go silent.

“Price! We got a fucking problem here! You said she was supposed to be alone, man. Well she’s not fucking alone! Someone’s fucking here and they’re-“

Cavella’s voice was cut off by the sound of bullets ricocheting around your kitchen. Steven’s eyes went wide with terror once you stopped the recording, a look of fear flashing through them that you had only ever seen Frank bring out in him. That look had power surging through your veins; to finally have that sense of strength over a man who had tried to make you feel small and brittle the entire duration of your relationship. It was intoxicating to be able to stare down into his petrified gaze.

Frank and Billy both immediately went rigid once the recording stopped. Billy’s look of concern for you all of a sudden morphed into an accusatory glare as he slowly turned his head to look down at Steven. One by one, he untangled his fingers from around your wrist and let go of your arm, turning to face Steven fully and stare him down as he towered over him. 

“Frank, let go.”

“Bill-“

“Let her have it.”

“She don’t know how to use it-“

“She’s about to learn.”

The icy edge to Billy’s voice momentarily suspended your anger, and your lips parted slightly, noticing the look of pure disdain clenched in his jaw. Frank slowly came into view beside you, his large hand still clamped around the barrel of the gun, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the anger and concern clashing in his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the internal battle displayed in the reflection of his almost like a play. You could see his hesitation to let go as much as you could see his own desire to follow Billy’s direction. 

Glancing down at his own hand on the gun, his brows furrowed slightly, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Billy. Giving you one final look, he let out a deep exhale through his large nose, relinquishing his hold on the gun and removing his hand from your lower back to take a step backwards to give you some space. He immediately turned his body to face forward, staring down at Steven with a menacing glare while his index and middle finger twitched at his sides. Flickering your eyes over towards Billy, he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement before focusing his attention back on Steven. 

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you fixated your gaze back on Steven and aimed the gun at him again with more confidence this time. It felt foreign holding a gun for the first time, and it was heavier than you expected, but the weight of the weapon in your hand was nothing compared to the weight of knowing all the hell you had endured the past several months were because of the man on his knees in front of you.

“I wanna hear you admit it.”

Steven’s eyes desperately flickered between the three of you. It was clear he wasn’t getting any sympathy from Frank or Billy, but he was still egotistical enough to think he had some kind of hold on you that he could use to his advantage. He shook his head quickly as he reached a shaky hand out towards you.

“Y/N, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Look, I asked those guys to look after you because-“

“I don’t want any bullshit, Steven. I want the truth. Cavella outed himself and Walker about being involved with the bombings. They weren’t there to look after me, they were there to kidnap me. Why? First you tried to have me killed, and then kidnapped-“

“Whoa whoa, no. That is not at all what was supposed to happen-“ 

“Then what was supposed to happen, Steven?”

“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them! The only reason you became a target is because you pissed them off! If you hadn’t been so fucking-“

Billy took a swift step forward and backhanded Steven across the face, glaring down at him with his lips set in a hard line. 

“I would watch the way you talk to someone pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at you, dipshit.”

Steven clenched his jaw with a wince as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated exhale. 

“Fuckin’ figures you’d be behind this shit. Bombs are a cowards weapon, and that’s exactly what you fuckin’ are.”

Frank’s voice was dangerously low and absolutely dripping with unfiltered hatred. 

“I never hurt anyone. No one was ever supposed to get hurt at all. Look, Cavella and Walker had this group of vets that were already causing a lot of trouble. I…I thought I could use them to my advantage. I made them a deal that if they would do exactly as I said when I said, I’d fund them and keep them hidden and out of prison.”

“How exactly does a homegrown terrorist group advantage you?”

Steven sighed in frustration as he stared up at you, dropping his hands by his sides. The look of indignation in his eyes made your blood feel like molten lava in your veins. You had seen that look countless times when you were together. It was an expression he gave you when he felt like he was pointing out something obvious to you, or felt the need to mansplain something he thought you weren’t intelligent enough to figure out on your own.

“It would’ve helped me win the election.”

Complete disbelief was shot throughout your entire nervous system like a shockwave as you blanched at him with a curt, humorless laugh. 

“You’re fucking joking. You murdered people-“

“No. I didn’t do that. Cavella and Walker were just supposed to blow up a few buildings and make a few stupid threats that I could use as a talking point for my campaign. They were gonna threaten me publically, and that was gonna gain me sympathy points in the polls. They already had a few guys lined up to take the fall for everything, and it was all gonna go down the week before the election. Can you imagine the votes I’d get for taking down a terrorist group? I’d win by a fucking landslide.”

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

“Look, I’ll admit, they got out of hand, alright? I told you, no one was supposed to get hurt at all. Politics is messy. Sometimes you do things you’re not proud of-“

“You’re really trying to excuse what you did-“

“I made a mistake, Y/N. I was trying to fix it-“

“How does kidnapping me fix it?”

Steven dragged his palms down his face in complete exasperation as he shook his head with a dry laugh. 

“I knew a journalist was attacking them in the media but I didn’t realize it was you. I tried to tell Cavella and Walker you were off limits, but they didn’t wanna hear it. I mean, you taunted them relentlessly in the media. So, I agreed to let them kidnap you, but they weren’t actually gonna hurt you. I told them if they did, I’d pull their funding and expose them. They were just supposed to scare you into shutting up-”

Before you had a chance to react, Frank surged forward and struck his fist across Steven’s face hard, sending him flying two feet away from where he was sitting on his knees. When Frank moved to advance towards Steven to unleash more of his rage, Billy thrust his arm across Frank’s chest to halt his movements. 

“Let her finish.”

Your eyes widened at the force Frank had knocked Steven back with. You watched as Steven curled up onto his side, his hand hovering over the fresh gash Frank’s knuckles had torn into his cheek, and you grimaced slightly at the pool of blood leaking past his lips. Steven let out a frustrated yell of pain while clutching at his face.

“Fuck! God…none of this even fucking matters anymore, alright? We have a bigger problem. Someone else knew about Cavella and Walker showing up to Y/N’s place and killed them, and I would think she would be more concerned that they’re still out there somewhere-”

“I did.”

Steven paused his furious rant to look up at Frank, his bloodied face twisted up in absolute confusion. 

“What?”

Frank took a bold step forward, his eyes wild with restrained fury, and his top lip curled up slightly in a menacing snarl as he grit his words out at Steven.

“I killed ‘em.”

Steven blinked a few times in pure dumbfoundment. The puzzlement swimming in his eyes seemed to swirl like a hurricane into a pool of fear before settling into a tide of anger. As he glared between Frank and Billy, he pointed an accusatory bloody finger towards Frank.

“You…you ruined everything! I staged my car being blown up so Homeland would pull you away from her. If you had fucking done as you were told this would’ve all been over in two weeks! You weren’t supposed to be there-”

“Well that’s your fuckin’ stupid ass mistake thinkin’ I would ever leave her alone.”  

Frank was beyond seething at this point, and the boom of his voice echoed in Billy’s office like a loud clap of thunder. But it wasn’t the volume of his words that made you shiver; it was the truth you heard in them. 

Something about Steven’s argument piqued your curiosity, and you stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

“Wouldn’t exposing them also expose you?”

Steven scoffed at your question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“No, I’m not stupid. I paid them in cash. We only exchanged information verbally, or through a burner phone, so there was nothing tying me to them. If they even tried, I would’ve buried them in charges.“

Your brows furrowed slightly at his implication, letting out a dry laugh as you watched him spit out blood. 

“You mean you would’ve falsified files to get them locked away to hide your own dirty secrets?”

“I’ve been doing it my entire career. You really think I haven’t lost a case because I’m that good? Come on, no lawyer has that string of luck.”

Every dark revelation coming from Steven’s mouth only made your blood blaze even hotter. You momentarily dropped the gun by your side, taking a few steps over towards Steven with a look of absolute fury in your eyes while you smiled humorlessly. 

“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you burn for this. Guess I’ll be writing about you after all.”

Steve let out a deep laugh, showcasing his bloodstained teeth in a cocky smile as he looked up at you. 

“Princess, have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? None of this is coming back to me. I told you, I have no direct ties to those overzealous psychos. That little recording you have only proves I sent two officers to watch out for my ex-girlfriend that was in danger. There’s no proof I knew they were involved. And even with your two little witnesses here, it’s all circumstantial evidence. No one is gonna believe you. You have nothing.”

“I’d say we have a confession.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he turned his head to look up at Billy, that nauseating smirk plastered over his lips. 

“Not exactly how a confession works, pretty boy. This would all be hearsay, if it even made it to court.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, his deep obsidian eyes narrowing slightly with a sparkle of mischief shining in them as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin. He suddenly held up his phone that displayed a recording that was still currently going. 

“Is it?”

Steven’s smirk instantly disappeared realizing that Billy had been silently capturing the entire conversation. Showcasing a victorious smirk of his own, Billy pressed the button to stop the recording and slipped his phone into his pocket. 

Frank’s face was still contorted in barely contained rage while glaring down at Steven as he barked a command. 

“Names. Now.”

Steven swallowed thickly looking up at Frank, glancing between him and Billy in a newfound alarm.

“Okay…look…I’ll give you everything. If…if we can work something out-“

Frank stalked over towards Steven and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up like a rag doll and shoving him against the wall so hard, it indented the wall in Billy’s office. 

“We ain’t workin’ nothin’ out ‘cept whether you leave this goddamn office breathin’ or not, you got that? Now you can gimme those fuckin’ names, or I’ll tear ‘em outta you.”

Steven gripped onto Frank’s arms with both hands tightly, coughing from the restricted airflow, his ridiculous shoes thrashing against the wall from where Frank had him suspended above the floor.

“Cavella…was in…charge. Walker…was his…partner…I-addresses. I have… addresses…phone numbers…left pocket-“

Frank reached into Steven’s pocket with his free hand, pulling the burner phone out to toss in Billy’s direction. Billy quickly caught it and opened it, and after a few moments of searching through it, snapped it shut with a nod.

“Got it.”

Frank let go of Steven's neck, letting him collapse onto the floor in front of his boots, the corner of his mouth curling up into a snarl as Steven was sent into a coughing fit trying to catch his breath. 

“Pull the trigger, darlin’.”

All three of your heads snapped in Billy’s direction, but he was only looking at you. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, glancing between Steven’s horrified eyes and Billy’s calm ones. 

“What? We…we have his confession-“

Billy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk, nodding in your direction. 

“We got a confession, but he could say it was coerced, and we got nothin’ else to pin to him. There’s a very real chance daddy could save the day on this one. You wanna risk that?”

A crease of confusion furrowed between your brows, and Billy’s features took on a more serious expression.

“We’ll back you. It would be cut and dry self defense.” 

A look of astonishment blanketed your face when you realized what Billy was offering.

He wanted you to kill Steven.

Your eyes immediately went wide, and you looked over at Frank, hoping to see the same shock that was shining in your own eyes, but you didn’t find that.

Frank was staring at you in that same clash of hesitation and wrath, but you couldn’t detect a single ounce of disagreement with Billy’s offer. A sudden chill nipped at the back of your neck, and you slowly started to shake your head. Frank took a cautious step towards you, reaching out for your hand still holding onto the gun.

“You ain’t gotta do it. Lemme have it.”

“Frank-“

“Give it to me, and go wait in the truck.”

Your brows knit together in perplexity and disappointment as you stared between him and Billy, shaking your head adamantly.

“No.”

“Sweetheart-“

“No! He needs to pay for what he’s done. He and the others need to rot in prison. They need to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a tiny cell, knowing they’ll never get out. That’s what they deserve. They don’t just get to die and get it over with. They’re not getting away with it-“

“No one said they were, darlin’. Give Frank the gun.”

“He’s going to prison.”

Billy stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. Letting out an exhale through his nose, he nodded his head slightly in acceptance and straightened out his tie.

“If that’s what you want.”

Clutching onto the handle of the gun tightly, you glanced between Billy and Frank, noticing the polar difference in their expressions. Billy seemed calm and collected while Frank looked like he was seconds away from unleashing his wrath on Steven. Despite the power the two of them held, the decision was yours.

“Call Homeland.”

»»———　　———««

Watching Steven getting hauled away in handcuffs should’ve filled you with a sense of relief, but as you sat in the large conference room alone and watched Homeland agents scramble around the building through the floor to ceiling glass walls, there was a feeling of unease twisting your stomach into anxious knots. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when a woman with shoulder length chocolate curls and espresso tinted eyes pushed open the door to the conference room. Her gaze was somewhat intense, and captivating, but there was a tight smile on her lips when she approached you and held out her hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I’m agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. I’ve been working on your case.”

Reaching your hand out to take hers, you noticed she had a firm grasp. When you made the connection with her words in your head, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re Frank’s friend.”

Dinah lifted one of her perfectly arched dark brows in playful curiosity as a more candid and genuine soft smile graced her lips. 

“Friend is a…strong word. But for all intents and purposes, sure.”

She gave you a knowing look, and you simply nodded in silent understanding as the tiny smile pulling at the edge of your mouth reached the center of your lips. Dinah took a seat beside you and leaned back in the chair slightly, letting out a deep exhale as her gaze flickered between the agents currently interviewing Billy and Frank before landing back on you with a softer expression.

“You know…what you did, it was brave. Incredibly reckless, to taunt two psychopaths with loaded guns and a hobby of blowing shit up, but brave. And extremely clever.”

That lingering sensation of dread crept up your spine again, causing you to shudder. The weight of the past few months, and the last seventy-two hours especially, bubbled in your stomach like bile threatening to erupt. There was a question that had been echoing in your head for the past forty-five minutes, one you were afraid to know the answer to.

“Is it enough?”

Dinah tilted her head to the side slightly as she stared over at you, her dark brows twinged with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“The recordings…his confession…is it enough?”

Hearing the worriment that trembled in your voice, Dinah’s features softened as the blurriness of your apprehension finally became clear, and she understood exactly what you were asking. She reached a hand over to firmly place on top of yours and leaned in so that she was staring directly into your eyes while she spoke in a strong and confident tone.

“I will personally make sure this son of a bitch goes down, and goes down hard. I don’t care if his father is richer than God, Steven Price is going to pay for what he did. They all will. I promise.”

There was a quiet ferocity to Dinah, and you got the impression that she was a woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, but despite her intensity, she made you feel relaxed. It almost reminded you of your early interactions with Frank. 

“Thank you.”

The blazing passion in her eyes cooled off the tiniest bit when you said that, and you got the feeling those were two words she didn’t hear often. Before Dinah could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open, and that fire was burning brightly in her eyes once again as she stared down the intruder. You thought she might have been glaring at Frank for some reason, but when you looked over your shoulder, you were surprised to see it was Billy.

He stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands in his pockets, looking at Dinah with a faint smirk on his lips that almost looked arrogant, and a rogue twinkle in his eyes.

“Madani.”

Dinah sat up straighter in her seat as she stared intently over at Billy, not even bothering to plaster a cordial smile on her lips.

“Russo.”

There was a tension lingering between the two of them like a dense and heavy fog, and your eyes darted between them in total curiosity. Billy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he gestured towards you with his chin.

“Mind if I have a word with her alone?”

Instead of answering him, Madani turned her attention towards you, raising one of her brows in silent questioning. After giving her a subtle nod, she looked over at Billy warily out of the corner of her eye and let out a heavy exhale through her nose, giving you a nod of her own and rising from her seat. 

“I’ll be outside.”

As she made her way over towards the conference door to leave, her and Billy’s eyes were locked on one another in an almost strained staring contest. But while Billy’s eyes reflected amusement, Madani stared at Billy in a look that resembled…suspicion. Once it was just you and Billy in the room, you looked over at him in complete puzzlement with an arched brow.

“What did you do to piss off Homeland Security?”

Billy let out a dark chuckle as he rounded the long, deep mahogany conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket to take a seat next to you.

“We uh…used to date.”

For some reason, that confession caught you off guard. It was hard to picture someone like Billy with someone like Madani. Granted, she was just as attractive as he was, but their personalities seemed so…different. Glancing down at your hands, you let out a dry and humorless short laugh.

“I guess you really fucked up.”

Billy’s sharp features contorted into a look of faux offense, but the grin on his lips gave away his true feelings.

“What makes you so sure it was my fault?”

Turning your head slightly to give him a pointed look, he let out a deep chuckle and nodded as he leaned back in the chair and glanced around the empty conference room.

“Fair enough.”

Staring down at your hand that you had punched Steven with, you noticed that your knuckles had begun to swell, and the skin was changing into the early shades of a bruise. So much adrenaline had been coursing through your body, you hadn’t felt any pain at all until now. You could barely tighten your fingers into a weak fist without feeling a sharp tenderness, and there was dried blood around the stitches in your palm from clutching the gun so tightly.

A gun that Billy had wanted you to pull the trigger on.

“I wasn’t going to shoot him.”

“I know. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”

Shifting your gaze to look over at Billy in total confusion, there was a small smile on his lips as he looked back at you. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side while gazing softly at you.

“The safety was on.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked.

That’s why Frank let go of the gun.

He had seen that the safety was on and knew you couldn’t do any damage. A surprised scoff left your lips as you shook your head slowly while all these new pieces fit into the puzzle. But as you ran your fingers through your hair with your uninjured hand, there was one question that was still missing an answer. You turned your head to stare at Billy inquisitively.

“Then why did you say-”

Billy shook his head and leaned over in his seat closer towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I was just tryin’ to scare him. He spent months terrorizin’ you, I thought it was only fair we scare the shit outta him too. I’m sorry if I took it too far, darlin’. But, I knew you wouldn’t do it, even if the safety wasn’t on.”

The way he said that with such conviction struck something within you, and you sat up a little straighter as you furrowed your brows slightly.

“What makes you say that?”

Billy instantly picked up on the challenging tone lacing your question, and he let out a light chuckle while looking at you with one of his dark brows arched. 

“Besides the fact you don’t know how to use a gun?”

He took a moment to let his teasing words linger in the space between you, letting out an amused snort at the way you pursed your lips and lifted your brows defiantly. 

“Cause that ain’t you, darlin’. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let you do somethin’ like that. He woulda done it himself to keep your conscience clear.”

As if on cue, Frank pushed through the door of the conference room with an ice pack in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He glanced between you and Billy, his dark brows slightly knit together before his gaze landed on you, and he gestured loosely with the ice pack.

“Thought you might need this for that right hook, Rocky.”

Billy threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh while you struggled to fight the grin that threatened to take over your lips as you glanced down at your slightly swollen hand. Billy stood up from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket, lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“That was impressive. Remind me to never piss you off.”

While Billy left the conference room to speak to some of the guys that worked for him, Frank took his previous spot in the chair next to you and set the ice pack and first aid kit on the table.

“Lemme see.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you slowly placed your hand into his larger one and winced as he gingerly brushed his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Are we lookin’ at the same thing?”

There was a faint teasing tone to his words, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, you realized it was because he had repeated your own back to you. You were suddenly brought back to the night at the bar when you had been in this exact same scenario with Frank, only now the roles were reversed. Now he was the one patching up your hand.

A smile bloomed across your lips like the first delicate bud in spring knowing that he remembered that. Frank always remembered the little things.

“Alright, fine. It’s bad.”

Frank turned your hand over carefully, swabbing at the dried blood around your stitches with an alcohol wipe which caused you to hiss from the sting, and elicited a quiet apology from him. To both of your surprise, you hadn’t ripped open your stitches. Frank applied some antibiotic cream to your stitches and gently placed the ice pack over your swollen knuckles, the icy chill instantly offering a little bit of relief to the throbbing under your angry and taut skin.

But it was the way that Frank tenderly held your wrist with his other free hand as he held the ice pack to your bruised knuckles that a heated shiver tumbling down your back. 

“Be sore for a few days, but it ain’t broken.”

Frank lifted his head to look at you, his eyes faintly narrowed as he cocked his head to the side and studied you curiously.

“I thought you said you ain’t ever hit anyone before?”

A look of sheer puzzlement blanketed your own features while looking back at Frank, unsure of the implications behind his question.

“I haven’t.”

Frank’s thick brows lifted up his forehead a few centimeters in surprise as his deep brown eyes wandered over you, a soft chuckle leaving him as he shook his head slowly and looked back down at your hand.

“Coulda fooled me. Hell of a fuckin’ hit for your first try.”

His voice was dripping with pride, and that coupled with the tiny grin on his lips filled you with a giddiness that made the pain in your hand almost disappear. 

But all at once, that giddiness disappeared when a chilling revelation washed over you like a bucket of unforgiving ice water.

The Defenders of Freedom had been caught. Steven was going to stand trial, and eventually be sent to prison.

And there wasn’t a reason for Frank to be your bodyguard anymore.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

*if your tag is not working, or you changed your username, please let me know! also if you’re tagged in the comments, it’s bc I can only do 50 mentions on the actual post!

[queer-is-future]

Since it definitely looks as though Daniel Molloy has replaced the character of David Talbot from the books, and will now be the chronicler of the vampires' stories, it made me revisit the mystery of Daniel's turning by Armand.

In the books, it's incredibly romantic. Arguably one of the most romantic turnings in TVC. But it also starts a chain reaction that eventually splits Armand and Daniel apart for a very long time. Their story seems to be re-starting again, so they need a new storyline for later DM.

Since David's story is being merged with Daniel's story, I've been wondering for some time if the show might merge show Daniel's turning with David's turning in Tale of the Body Thief.

David Talbot's turning is forced on him by Lestat. It's violent, there's a lot of anger, but there's also... well. Here. Starting just after Lestat attacks David:

“I came behind him, following him as he staggered down the slope of white sand. The thirst rose, knowing only that the blood had come seconds before, and that it must have more. When he reached the water, he stood there, tottering, only an iron will keeping him from collapse.

I took him by the shoulder, tenderly, embracing him with my right arm.

“No, damn you, damn you into hell. No,” he said. With all his waning strength he struck at me, shoving at my face with his doubled fist, tearing the flesh of the knuckles as it struck the unyielding skin.”

…

“I felt the heel of his hand against my face. Oh, so strong. So very strong. Yes, fight me, fight me as I fought Magnus. So sweet that you are fighting me. I love it. I do.

And what was it this time as I went into the swoon? The purest of prayers coming from him, not to gods we didn’t believe in, not to a crucified Christ or an old Virgin Queen. But prayers to me. “Lestat, my friend. Don’t take my life. Don’t. Let me go.”

Hmmm. I slipped my arm ever more tightly around his chest. Then drew back, licking at the wounds.”

…

“You choose your friends badly, David,” I whispered, licking the blood from my lips, and looking down into his face. He was almost dead. How beautiful these strong even white teeth of his, and the tender flesh of the lip. Only the whites showed beneath his eyelids. And how his heart fought—this young, flawless mortal heart. Heart that had sent the blood pumping through my brain. Heart that had skipped and stopped when I knew fear, when I saw the approach of death.

I laid my ear against his chest, listening. I heard the ambulance screaming through Georgetown. “Don’t let me die.”

I saw him in that dream hotel room of long ago with Louis and with Claudia. Are we all but random creatures in the devil’s dreams?

The heart was slowing. The moment had almost come. One more little drink, my friend.

I lifted him and carried him up the beach and back into the room. I kissed the tiny wounds, licking at them and sucking them with my lips, and then letting my teeth go in again. A spasm passed through him, a little cry escaped his lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Yes, and I love you,” I answered, words smothered against the flesh, as the blood spurted hot and irresistible once again.”

…

“I bit into my tongue, until I couldn’t stand the pain. Again and again I made the punctures with my own fang teeth, moving my tongue to the right and to the left, and then I locked my mouth to his, forcing his lips open, and let the blood flow onto his tongue.

It seemed that time stood still. There came that unmistakable taste of my own blood leaking into my own mouth, as it leaked into his. Then suddenly his teeth snapped closed on my tongue. They snapped down upon it menacingly and sharply, with all the mortal strength in his jaws, and scraped at the preternatural flesh, scraping the blood out of the gash I’d made, and biting so hard that it seemed they would sever the tongue itself if they could.

The violent spasm shot through him. His back arched against my arm. And when I drew back now, my mouth full of pain, my tongue hurting, he drew up, hungering, eyes still blind. I tore my wrist. Here it comes, my beloved. Here it comes, not in little droplets, but from the very river of my being. And this time when the mouth clamped down “upon me, it was a pain that reached all the way down to the roots of my being, tangling my heart in its burning mesh.

For you, David. Drink deep. Be strong.”

When David's turning is done, he avoids Lestat for several days, and Lestat, believing that David hates him for forcing David into vampirism, returns to Louis in New Orleans...where he finds David and Louis together. Lestat had given David so much of his blood that David had believed Lestat was dying:

“Do you know what went through my mind? I thought you’d found a way to die. You’d given me every drop of blood in you. And now you yourself were perishing before my very eyes. I knew I loved you. I knew I forgave you. And I knew with every breath I took and with every new color or shape I saw before me that I wanted what you’d given me—the new vision and life, which none of us can really describe! Oh, I couldn’t admit it. I had to curse you, fight you for a little while. But that’s all it was in the end—a little while.”

And David then tells Lestat:

“Oh, every time you ever came to me, you touched me; you wrung from me a deep protectiveness. You made me feel love. And it’s the same now. Only you seem all the more lost and in need of me now. I’m to take you forward, I see it clearly. I’m your link with the future. It’s through me that you’ll see the years ahead.”

Quite a few things that overlap with the original DM storyline...and a few areas for real character/relationship development. It also just...feels like them.

Curious if any of this ends up happening in the show. Can't wait.

[writers-potion]

Plant Symbolisms 🌱🌿🪴

Flora have a special corner in literature.

Starting from the Greco-Roman period when certain plants were representative of gods (like olive trees for Athena), plants have meant more than just a source of food or pleasure.

Lotus - Symbol of creation, rebirth, and the sun. The blue lotus represents spiritual enlightenment, while the white lotus symbolizes purity.

Papyrus - Represents prosperity, growth, and regeneration, often associated with the Nile River and the goddess Isis.

Mandrake - Associated with love, fertility, and aphrodisiac properties.

Poppy - Symbol of sleep, healing, and regeneration, often associated with the god of sleep, Hypnos.

Rose - Represents love, beauty, and the goddess Aphrodite.

Jasmine - Symbol of sensuality, love, and spiritual growth.

Palm - Represents victory, triumph, and eternal life, often associated with the god Osiris.

Acacia - Symbolizes resurrection and the afterlife, linked to the god Osiris and the Tree of Life.

Cornflower - Represents fertility, abundance, and regeneration.

Anemone - Symbol of protection, healing, and renewal.

Anemone, garden: Forsaken.

Almond, flowering: Hope.

Balm: Sympathy.

Bamboo: The emblem of Buddha. The seven-knotted bamboo denotes the seven degrees of initiation and invocation in Buddhism.

Bay leaf: I change but in death.

Bell flower, white: Gratitude.

Bluebell: Constancy.

Broken flower: A life terminated, mortality.

Buttercup: Cheerfulness.

Calla lily: Symbolises marriage.

Campanula: Gratitude.

Carnation, red: Beauty always new

Chrysanthemum: I love.

Clover, white: Think of me.

Clover, four-leaved: Be mine.

Cinquefoil: maternal affection, beloved daughter.

Convolvulus, major: Extinguished hopes or eternal sleep.

Coreopsis, Arkansa: Love at first sight.

Crocus: Youthful gladness.

Cuckoo Pint: Ardour.

Cypress tree: Designates hope.

Daffodil: Death of youth, desire, art, grace, beauty, deep regard.

Daisy: Innocence of child, Jesus the Infant, youth, the Son righteousness, gentleness, purity of thought.

Daisy, garden: I share your sentiment.

Dead leaves: Sadness, melancholy.

Dogwood: Christianity, divine sacrifice, triumph of eternal life, resurrection.

Fern: Sincerity, sorrow.

Figs, Pineapples: Prosperity, eternal life.

Fleur-de-lis: Flame, passion, ardour, mother.

Flower: frailty of life.

Forget-me-not: Remembrance / true love.

Furze or Gorse: Enduring affection.

Grapes: represent Christ.

Grapes and leaves: Christian faith.

Harebell: Grief.

Hawthorn: Hope, merriness, springtime.

Heartsease or Pansy: I am always thinking of you.

Holly: Foresight.

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love, generosity and devoted affection.

Honesty: Sincerity.

Ivy: Memory, immortality, friendship, fidelity, faithfulness, undying affection, eternal life, marriage.

Jonquil: “I hope for a return of affection.”

Lalla: Beauty, marriage.

Laurel leaves: Special achievement, distinction, success, triumph.

Marigold: Grief or despair.

Morning glory: Resurrection, mourning, youth, farewell, brevity of life, departure, mortality.

Mystic rose: Mother.

*some of these flower symbols have Greek or Roman origins but were also used in ancient Egyptian culture.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

🖱️References

https://www.proflowers.com/blog/plant-symbolism-guide

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/396668679699365428/

https://lilysflorist.com/blog/the-symbolism-of-flowers-in-literature-and-poetry-a-look-at-the-hidden-meanings-of-blooms-in-classic-texts/#:~:text=Rose%20%2D%20Represents%20love%2C%20beauty%2C,and%20the%20Tree%20of%20Life.

[hopealoft]

Who is Jesus Christ?

14. MAN OF SORROWS

Today is Good Friday and it’s good to remember the purpose for Jesus’ crucifixion.

Sorrow became characteristic of Jesus’ life because He suffered for the sins of humans.

The Bible says that “Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins”— Hebrews 9:22

Today marks the day that the blood of Jesus was shed to save humans from their sin. Jesus was crucified and died so that you can have spiritual and eternal life.

Jesus saved you from spiritual and eternal death, by dying for your sake.

Romans 3:25 “For God presented Jesus as the sacrifice for sin. People are made right with God when they believe that Jesus sacrificed His life, shedding His blood. This sacrifice shows that God was being fair when He held back and did not punish those who sinned in times past,”

Those who believe that Jesus sacrificed His life for their sin will be made right with God.

Choose to be made right with God today by believing that Jesus sacrificed His life for you.

Say this prayer:

“Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner and ask for Your forgiveness. I believe You died for my sins and rose from the dead. I turn from my sins and invite You into my heart and life.”

Now, join a sound, Bible-believing and practising church. Continue to study Jesus’ words and live as He wants His followers to live.

Be cleansed and set free by the blood of Jesus.