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officialyourdailyinspiration · 10 days

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The Holy District

1 Moreover, when you divide by lot the land for inheritance, you shall offer an allotment to the Lord, a holy portion of the land. The length shall be the length of twenty-five thousand cubits, and the width shall be twenty thousand. It shall be holy throughout its territory all around. 2 Of this there shall be a square plot for the sanctuary, five hundred by five hundred cubits, with fifty cubits for an open space around it. 3 Of this measure you shall measure the length of twenty-five thousand cubits and the width of ten thousand cubits. And in it shall be the sanctuary, the Most Holy Place. 4 The holy portion of the land shall be for the priests, the ministers of the sanctuary, who shall come near to minister to the Lord. And it shall be a place for their houses and a holy place for the sanctuary. 5 An area twenty-five thousand cubits in length and ten thousand in width shall be for the Levites, the ministers of the temple, and for their possession cities in which to dwell.

6 You shall appoint the possession of the city five thousand cubits wide and twenty-five thousand cubits long adjacent to the allotment of the holy portion. It shall be for the whole house of Israel.

The Portion for the Prince

7 A portion shall be for the prince on the one side and on the other side of the holy allotment and property of the city, adjacent to the holy allotment and the property of the city, from the west side westward and from the east side eastward. And the length shall correspond to one of the tribal portions, from the west border to the east border. 8 In the land shall be his possession in Israel. And My officials shall no more oppress My people. And the rest of the land they shall give to the house of Israel according to their tribes.

Laws Governing the Prince

9 Thus says the Lord God: Let it suffice you officials of Israel. Remove violence and destruction, and execute justice and righteousness. Take away your exactions from My people, says the Lord God. 10 You shall have just balances and a just ephah and a just bath. 11 The ephah and the bath shall be of one measure so that the bath may contain the tenth part of a homer, and the ephah the tenth part of a homer. Their measure shall be after the homer. 12 The shekel shall be twenty gerahs. Twenty shekels, twenty-five shekels, and fifteen shekels shall be your mina.

13 This is the offering that you shall offer: the sixth part of an ephah of a homer of wheat, and you shall give the sixth part of an ephah of a homer of barley. 14 Concerning the ordinance of oil that is the bath of oil, you shall offer the tenth part of a bath out of the kor, which is a homer or ten baths, for ten baths are a homer. 15 And one lamb shall be out of the flock, out of two hundred, out of the watering places of Israel, as a grain offering and as a burnt offering and for peace offerings, to make reconciliation for them, says the Lord God. 16 All the people of the land shall give this offering for the prince in Israel. 17 It shall be the prince’s part to give burnt offerings and grain offerings and drink offerings in the feasts and in the New Moons and in the Sabbaths, in all solemnities of the house of Israel. He shall prepare the sin offering and the grain offering and the burnt offering and the peace offerings, to make reconciliation for the house of Israel.

Observing the Feasts

18 Thus says the Lord God: In the first month, on the first day of the month, you shall take a young bull without blemish and cleanse the sanctuary. 19 And the priest shall take some of the blood of the sin offering and put it on the doorposts of the temple and on the four corners of the ledge of the altar and on the gateposts of the inner court. 20 So you shall do the seventh day of the month for everyone who errs and for him who is naive. So you shall make atonement for the temple.

21 In the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, you shall have the Passover, a feast of seven days. Unleavened bread shall be eaten. 22 On that day the prince shall prepare for himself and for all the people of the land a bull as a sin offering. 23 For seven days of the feast he shall prepare a burnt offering to the Lord, seven bulls and seven rams without blemish daily for the seven days, and a male of the goats daily as a sin offering. 24 He shall prepare a grain offering of an ephah for a bull and an ephah for a ram and a hin of oil for an ephah.

25 In the seventh month, on the fifteenth day of the month, he shall do the like in the feast of the seven days, according to the sin offering, according to the burnt offering, and according to the grain offering, and according to the oil. — Ezekiel 45 | Modern English Version (MEV) The Holy Bible, Modern English Version. Copyright © 2014 by Military Bible Association. Published and distributed by Charisma House. Cross References: Genesis 23:15; Exodus 12:1; Exodus 30:14-15; Leviticus 1:4; Leviticus 4:14; Leviticus 4:27; Leviticus 16:18; Leviticus 19:35-36; Leviticus 23:1; Leviticus 23:8; Leviticus 23:33; Leviticus 23:42; Numbers 11:32; Numbers 16:5; Numbers 28:12; Numbers 34:14; Joshua 11:23; Nehemiah 5:1; Ezekiel 27:28; Ezekiel 34:24; Ezekiel 48:8; Acts 2:36; Hebrews 9:14

#consecration of the land #the prince's portion #honest scales #offerings and feasts #Ezekiel 45 #Book of Ezekiel #Old Testament #MEV #Modern English Version Bible #Military Bible Association #Charisma House

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sideralwriting · 1 year

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Merry Christmas to you @reverie-tales! I’m glad I was your Secret Santa and I’m sorry if this fanfiction reaches you on Christmas day already. I didn’t like how the old fic was turning out so I decided for another twist. Tarquin had to go XD I hope it isn’t too heavy to read, I never wrote this many words ahaha.

Merry Christmas again and thanks to @acotargiftexchange for planning the event!!

Feysand fanfic, modern AU. Word count: 4115. TW: Tamlin & Ianthe (aka the manipulation squad), NSFW (my giftee likes a lil angst and good spices atm eheh).

Edit: Summary: Every aspect of Feyre’s life as fiancée of Tamlin is carefully approached by her future father-in-law but everything changes the day she runs into Morrigan.

What a treasure you are

Feyre got out of the SUV in front of her favorite museum on a sunny June afternoon. That was her favorite place and spent most of her free time there, which amounted to basically half a day.

Tamlin had sent Ianthe later that morning to escort her to her outings and she was trying to enjoy every bit of it. Not that her routine was any different since she finished college last year: wake up, have breakfast — her new obsession was avocado toast with only avocados and sesame seeds on an almost burnt bread slice— clean the house and get out of it before 1 PM.

Feyre saw Tamlin only when he came home later into the night and before he went to work, right before she was fully awake. She was grateful to him for working enough to allow them to have a life together, but she missed doing something, anything, even if it was in order to ease his stress. Tamlin's rage grew by the day. Out of frustration for his job as his father's and Amaratha's assistant, for sure, nonetheless she was afraid. Feyre didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even herself, nor she wanted to admit that Ianthe was more the controlling kind of person than actually a family friend.

So she escaped her reality with a year-long membership to her favorite of the Prythian’s Spring Court Museums.

Feyre’s pale green dress with ridiculously big puffy sleeves had been Ianthe's "gift", accurately chosen to show off her fair skin and "bring justice to Tamlin's family name". Obviously Feyre hated it with burning passion. That day she didn't put any sunscreen on because she didn't think it would be necessary. She wasn’t Tamlin’s or his father’s creature to manipulate as they pleased. She wanted freedom to do as she pleased, without it to be judged and reported back to them. Feyre wanted to paint and paint, she wanted to be someone on her own, wanted to sell her paintings to sustain her family and travel to the mountain at least once. So she strolled through the art gallery, Ianthe a few steps behind her, waiting for her opportunity to start living again. She applied for every exhibition but her soon to be father-in-law had connections everywhere in the city and made sure she couldn’t take part in it even changing the dates of a few major events.

Feyre sat on a cream divan in front of the painting of a pink cherry tree, leaning against the highest part of the divan at her right.

Father-in-law. Husband. Tamlin’s wife. That’s what her life was bound to be the moment her father asked for a loan to the man. Feyre’s father was called the Prince of Trading before he lost everything because of a hurricane. He then asked Tamlin’s father, a collegue of his, some financiary help to pay off a couple of major debts… Creating a bigger one. Feyre’s wedding was to be an alliance between the traders. An alliance she loved at first, to help her family and being loved by a caring man. Everything started to change as Tamlin had more pressure, his temper started rising, they started arguing. What she hated more was that she couldn’t reply, nor help. Feyre had just to suppress her own frustration and avoid him as much as she could, bonus if she managed to endure Ianthe’s meddling. “Are you going to stare at that particular thing for long, Miss?” Mother above, the woman truly brought the worse out of her. Feyre turned her head slowly toward the guard and glued a dumb smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Ianthe, what were you saying? This art piece is magnificent, isn’t it? The colors are so pale that you can feel the sadness-"

“I’m regretful to remind you of this in such a nice place, Miss Feyre,” the woman sure enough of her position that she interrupted her boss’ fiancée, “but Mr. Tamlin didn’t send me only for company. I’m here to accompany you to buy the new dress for Mrs. Amarantha’s charity party”. Right. Because why else would anyone approach her? Feyre sighed and got up from the divan. “You’re right, Ianthe”, she agreed, “you are not here for company.” The guard flinched and her cheeks reddened in anger. “Lead the way, now”.

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The little bell on the boutique’s door jingled as Feyre and Ianthe entered the place. They were greeted by a dark-haired woman with chocolate eyes. “Welcome to Windheaven, ladies. I’m Mrs. Hilda, the seamstress. How can I help you?”

Feyre explained to Mrs. Hilda what the occasion was and most of all who the host was. After the tailor asked her to undress and step on the platform at the center of a private room, the woman took her mesurements and started sketching, draping fabrics over Feyre’s waist and shoulders. Feyre took her time enjoying the fabrics and trying to remember as many details as she could for her next painting: lilac walls, dark brown partitions, a big fuzzy white carpet. Ianthe kept nugging at the tailor’s sketches and Feyre was glad that no one ever tried to do the same thing with her paintings… for now. How would things change after she got married? After she had to give Tamlin an heir?

She turned to avoid panicking in front of a stranger and most of all in front of her guard when she lifted her gaze and saw it.

Her first painting, her first sale. A lake of starlight with weeping willows caressing the white waters. How had it ended up there? Her dorm roommate bought it, did she sell it in turn? Did someone steal it? “How-” she starded, but right at that moment the door slammed wide open and a lean figure entered the room submerged in fabric rolls

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Ianthe yelled, “Have you no decency for customers? Ask for forgiveness and get out right now!” but neither the newcomer nor Feyre were listening to her since the first one put down the fabric rolls near Hilda and turned. Feyre had recognised those footsteps as soon as she heard them. They jumped as her heart did. Because in front of her, in a wonderful red dress and blonde ponytail stands her best friend. The moment their eyes met, tears started flowing down her cheeks, warm, big tears that mirrored the ones on her friend’s cheeks.

“Miss Feyre Archeron! It’s been a year since I last saw you.” The chestnut eyes of the blonde woman brightened as she hugged Feyre as thight as she could. “Mor…” She smelled of citrus as always and Feyre would be forever grateful for even that didn’t change in her friend. In Feyre’s own life. So she hugged her tighter because words failed her. “I know”, the first one said, “I missed you too, my dear friend”.

“This is outrageous! Get out or I’ll-“ Feyre glared at the stupidity of her guard and debated how to get rid of her once and for all. “You will do what exactly, Ianthe? I know this woman-“

“But she isn’t approved-“ “Silence, Ianthe. Last time I checked it was thanks to me you still had your job, so go breathing some fresh air.” Her heart kept thundering and her hands trembled, “And next time you interrupt me, you’ll be done for.”

“How did my painting get up there?” Feyre asked, sitting on the plushy carpet. Ianthe stormed out of the room and she got dressed in the frilly green dress. “Mrs. Hilda is my aunt,” answered Morrigan over a cup of tea. The seamstress saluted with a pencil in hand and a mischievious grin before returning to her sketches. Then, “Morrigan always told me about her ‘super-talented best friend forever’ and the day she bought it she gifted it to me so that it could bring me joy everyday. And it did.”

New tears thretened her eyes whe she turned from the middle aged woman. Obviously her old friend didn’t miss a thing, though. Mor gripped her hands together, “What happens, Fey? Tell me all about it”. Probably it was her memories or her friend’s presence or the tea, anyway she crumbled. She told her about her father’s debts, how she will have to marry Tamlin, how she had no control over her life, Tamlin’s behaviour. Even Feyre’s phone was closely examined by Ianthe everyday so it was better for Morrigan not to have it. The eyes of her best friend blackened as she told her about her life, stroking Feyre’s head in confort.

That day, Feyre left the boutique with more hope than she had in a while. She had to know that it couldn’t last long, though. As soon as her SUV reached the manor's parking lot, she knew something was up. First of all, Tamlin's own car was there too and it was only six in the afternoon. Second thing was Ianthe's smirk since she saw the other car too.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

December has always been Rhysand's favorite month. Lights everywhere glittering like stars, laughing people, warm beverages and snowball wars. He strolled through the city aiming for his favorite jeweler. Amren needed a new pair of earrings more than her life and Rhys was determined to buy his old friend the best pair Velaris had to offer. He was almost done with everyone's gifts, the pile of them from his family growing under his own tree. They got so excited that most of them tried to shake and even sniff the packaging to understand what the hell was inside of it. Somehow his Inner Circle has found him trustworthy enough to place everything at his home. Sometimes he regretted giving them the keys, but he loved them a lot. There was only one gift he still had to buy.

Morrigan's friend, Feyre, had lived with his cousin since September. They met a few times and even though her expression looked haunted most of the time, her witty replies made him loudly laugh. Pair that with how she called him a prick on different occasions and he had fallen in love. Hard and sudden. He wanted Feyre to start smiling again and wanted her to feel safe around him. He wanted to make her feel the most loved person on this planet. Mor and Feyre left for a three week holiday in Italy getting themselves drunk on shopping and nice food almost every day.

After purchasing Amren's earrings and a brooch, he found himself in front of his mother's boutique.

"My, what have I done for my son to come visit me at work?" his mother greeted him. "As if I don't come in here every other week, mother," Rhys replied, kissing the woman's cheek.

Hilda was finishing putting together a sleeve for the soft white dress on a stand behind her. "It's Morrigan's. I thought she would love a dress for Solstice day. Do you like it?"

"It will be perfect on her, your skills amaze me every time," he confessed, "what about that one, though? What is it made of?" A fine dress of the palest blue caught his eyes, shining in the low light from the ceiling, the trail pooled as a lake of stars. What kind of fabric was even that? "Feyre's dress. Oh, don't be so surprised, honey. She needed it after all she went through."

He sighed. "What happened to her, exactly? Morrigan threatened to kill me when I mentioned I wanted to ask Feyre about it." "Well…," Hilda hesitated. It wasn't like her and an angry calm set over him. What happened to the young woman? "Back in June she came in here looking for a dress. She and Mor recognized each other and an argument started between Feyre and the Miss who accompanied her. Someone sent word that a dress was no more needed and your cousin didn't see her again since Feyre showed up at her apartment and asked if she could move in. She was engaged, you see, had some arguments with her betrothed because of the other woman and called off the engagement."

Why wasn't Rhys aware of any of this? He picked out the phone but a gentle hand caressed his shoulder, the other taking away the phone. "You are trembling, Rhysand. Sit here. Sit."

"How can I help her, mom?"

"Be there for her. Support her but don't bring it up if she doesn't. " He sat there in silence for long enough that he was startled when Hilda sent him home. "Is this the only way?" he asked, getting up from the stool and pressing the second gift —a brooch of a Solstice flower made of rubies and diamonds— into her hand.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre was glad that Azriel and Cassian drived Mor and her back to Mor's apartment. What she didn't expect was for Tamlin to stand in front of it. Arguing with Rhysand.

“Give her back now, Rhysand. You won’t be enough for her anyway.” yelled Tamlin. “Oh really?” he turned towards the group, “And here I thought that she ran away to me because of my beautiful face and because she’s not an object.” The smirk he gave Feyre turned her from white pale to tomato red in less than a second. How could Tamlin still try to take her back? She broke every tie she had to her family, her father’s debt aside. He should respect her decision and yet he didn’t. It was at that moment that she noticed the open door between the two men and the chaos inside.

She felt her anger rise. Did Tamlin look for her inside? “Why are you here, Tamlin? I’m not coming back.” Anger and frustration filled her head as she walked toward the males. “I won’t be your wife. Go marry Ianthe instead, after all she has warmed your bed since we got engaged.” She sided with Rhysand, his steady warmth and scent anchored her. She looked toward Rhys’ face. “He actually has a beautiful face.”

Tamlin launched himself toward Feyre to grab her but Rhysand was faster. He circled her shoulders and pulled her away, while Azriel and Cassian pulled a yelling Tamlin toward the exit of the building. Her heart thundered. What had just happened?

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Rhys was calling her but she couldn’t look at him. Tamlin had just- “Look at me, Feyre darling. Good girl, like that. We’ll go for another trip just the two of us, okay?” Rhysand’s blue eyes were almost violet with the Solstice lights in the hallway. She fell in love all those months ago with how they seemed to shine just for her. She fell in love with how caring he was even without knowing what happened. Feyre nodded and Rhysand escorted her to his car.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Four days later they reached the destination. The log cabin Rhysand drove her to was in the middle of the highest mountains in Prythian. It faced a wide lake with a few other houses here and there, a thick layer of snow covering everything in sight, brightly lit by the sun. Peace and quiet reached her ears.. together with Rhys’ pants and grunts. Why was he even doing those sounds? They make her feel so tense and weak at the same time. She turned from the landscape to find Rhys pushing her luggage inside. A huff escaped from her lips as she walked to him, helping with pulling their luggages over the wooden porch.

“And this is why Mor was expelled from the common room the third year of college” finished Feyre drinking some wine in front of the fire. The rooms were full of wood and light colors, with a big hearth in the living room. She had propped her legs up on the sofa, a soft blanket over her, while Rhysand was in front of her on the same sofa. He was laughing at the stories she shared with his cousin, only once they talked about Tamlin and decided he wasn’t worth the thoughts. His brothers were already taking care of his charges anyway, so all she had to do at the moment was relax. And wine always made her relax.

“You know,” she braved to tell him, “I actually like you, Rhysand.”

He swung his wine once, twice. “It's Rhys. And do you, now?”

“I do.” She gulped. “I started liking you the day you brought me to a dance lesson instead of Mor,” Feyre laughed. “I didn’t know I danced so badly with Tamlin.”

Rhys was silent for a second. “He knew that you are a treasure, Feyre darling. Every man you will choose to settle down with has better to acknowledge it, or I’ll be the one to teach him.”

The blush on her cheek wasn’t from her drink. “Well, you already know it”. Rhysand sat up and leaned over her. Then he started brushing her hair. It was so normal but she felt like a starving woman anyway. She'd been since that day in September. “What is it that you want, darling?” she got up on her elbows. She could feel his warm breath against her lips, mere inches apart. She met his gaze and raised a hand against his face. She felt alive again as they danced like the first time. “You.”

The kiss was hungry and sweet, soft but demanding. Their lips tasted like the finest wine they were drinking. Rhysand felt Feyre melt under his love and he couldn't believe that he would find someone who loved him this much. He had lovers but he never felt like changing into a better person with them. Feyre moaned in his mouth and it was his undoing. Rhys got up and scooped her up in his arms. In what seemed to be a second, he was at the top of the stairs with Feyre on his lips. In his room there were already dim lights on. Feyre broke the kiss long enough to examine the bedroom and laughed.

"What? Not in a Solstice mood?"

"Oh no, who wouldn't love to have sex on a four-poster bed covered in cotton balls and yellow Solstice lights?"

He grinned, "That's the spirit, darling". Rhysand put her down and slowly, oh so slowly, proceeded to undress her from the pullover, then her shirt. The leggings were the last he pulled away. Feyre was left with her little red lacy underwear in front of Rhysand, who knelt before her. Feyre averted her eyes. How was it possible that she loved the man like this? How was it possible that he loved her enough to kneel at the sight of her? It was in that moment that he entangled fingers with hers. "Are you sure of this, love?"

"I am. Only, how can you love me when I called you a prick? What if you leave me, too?" "I'm not him, Feyre. I won't leave you" confirmed Rhysand. "And I've been called worse, don't worry. Let me show you how much I love you." She smiled laying on the bed: of course he had to be right every time. Rhys undressed quickly, coming on top of her. He kissed her lips, sucked her neck. His hands roamed from her fingers to her peaked breasts, circling around the top of one to the top of the other. Feyre arched her back and Rhysand sneaked a hand beneath it to unclasp the lacy bra. He kissed his way to the peaks and Feyre felt her belly melting and tightening at the same time.

"What is it that you want, love? Do you want me to kiss every inch of you?" He showed her how under her breast. "Do you want me to suck? Or maybe you just want me to touch you." A whisper with no sound left her lips. He kept licking and massaging down, down, all the way down to her core where he didn’t stop once. He enjoyed what he was doing but looking at him worshipping her center with his tongue was a sight she knew she wanted to paint. A warm sensation started to build in her head and she couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Rhysand…”

“Don’t call me like that”, his teeth scraped the interior of her thigh. “Try again, sweetheart.” This man. She was going to let him pay. Later.

“Rhys, please”. His tongue came back against her folds and she arched as he murmured praises for her bedroom manners. He was building Feyre up so much that she was almost at the end as Rhysand withdrew from her sight. “What. What are. You doing, Rhys?” She couldn’t think, could breath fast enough. “I’m getting ready for you, my love” and as soon as he said this, Feyre found him next to her on the bed, a condom on his dick. Between the soft mattres, the cotton balls and the strings of fairy lights, Rhysand looked like a fairy king out of her favorite stories. “Come up here”, Rhys ordered patting his thigh. Feyre did as he wanted, sitting right upon his member. But she had never been good at following orders without a little ‘Feyre-twist’ and that day it wasn’t any different.

She shifted, starting to kiss and suck Rhysand’s neck as he first did, her heands learning about tatoos and muscles she didn’t even know existed. She reached between his legs and began pumping. “Fuck, Fey. There, like this. You’re wonderful” He praised her again, his hands on her hips and trying to thrust into her. “Not like that, dear,” she purred into his ear, “let me show you how to do it properly.” With a grin on her face she moved him to her folds where Feyre created a new rhythm before getting down on his member. She felt her body stretch and adapt as soon as his head entered, a new rush of hot temperature creating again a fog in Feyre’s head. She took it all in before she began moving again. “You fill me perfectly, Rhys. Can you feel how much I want you?” He merely nodded, eyes heavy with pleasure. “Then don’t stop. You’re so good, please don’t stop. I-I love you too, Rhys”. They kept moving and praising each other until they broke at last.

Both panting, they hugged each other for a few minutes before taking a quick shower -it may or may not have included more kissing and asks about being a couple- and falling asleep hugging each other.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Rhysand woke up before dawn between the arms of the most beautiful woman he ever saw. He traced her face with a light finger before casting a chaste kiss on her lips and leaving the bed.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre woke up in an empty bed and felt as if everything had been only a dream. She put up the clothes Rhys had brought in the morning before and headed downstairs. She expected a few scenarios but not her new boyfriend mumbling Solstice songs under his breath while being submerged in coffee and biscuits and pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup. With his good trousers on. Only with the good trousers on. “Happy Solstice, Feyre darling!” He told her with the widest smile ever before twirling her around and kissing her. They were both laughing at the end of it.

“Happy Solstice, dear! Tell me now: did you cook all this?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let my girlfriend starve on the longest night of the year, could I? Now then, grab that bag and go change.”

The dress was stunning. It looked like it was crafted out of snow and light. “Where did you buy this dress?”

“That? Oh, my mother did it,” he answered before turning. His jaw dropped in a perfect O as soon as she saw her. Hair braided and barefoot in a dress of small pale gems, she felt crafted for it. “My-my mother has a boutique, the one where you met Mor back in June. This cabin is also hers.” He put a few plates on a table in front of the biggest window. The view showed the rising sun in a clear sky, over the frozen lake in a snowy landscape. Feyre made a mental note to recreate the landscape as soon as she was back, together with the previous night’s image.

She sat at the table. “You know Rhys, I wouldn’t mind being reintroduced to your mother and thank her for the dress.” Rhysand laughed “She already loves you, darling.”

#acotar gift exchange 2022 #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyre x rhysand #pro feysand #acotar morrigan #modern au

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girlhoodsgarden · 2 years

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[My dairy August 2019]

Dad, I inherited your face without trying,

I got the gift of full eyebrows and my slight downfall of my roman nose,

I pick up your traits like I was picking up bread crumps as you walk ahead of me,

you didn’t mean to leave them just bread crumbles when its burnt,

I get the honor of being your daughter but the pain of knowing I disappoint you,

my sensitivity comes from mom like my eyes,

we see the world differently,

I understand we grew in different times and I show a sense of rebellion when I do what is important to me,

I’m disappointing you being myself,

Your my father and I’m your daughter but I’m Mia not Sam.

I am so much you but we both neglect to see it, the love never fades,

but the comfort of understanding does,

I want to be what you want but I want you to want me to be me.

Sam, we now share a face in a way we never did before, I’ve become so used to being called by your name my response is no longer hesitated, but I know we’re different, no one will completely understand you you’re too special to think you’re anything so common; sometime I think that’s why poetry was invented to describe girls like you, I’ve never truly admired someone but I know that I admire you and I think that’s worth a lot. You’re beautiful but your beauty doesn’t do you justice; it’s so hard living up to you but you’ve been so wonderful to try

You’re so beautiful to me it feels disrespectful to call you something so common. You’re a sunset glimmering over the calm ocean when the sun is laying right on top, you could push me away and tell me you don’t want me but I’ll also be soft for you that you could come back and id pull you in and tell you it’s been too long,I can’t breath when you’re around all the air goes to you making sure you’re okay, I love you but you don’t know how to let someone love you, you’ll always be so pure and I’ll always be in love with you

Mom, will you hold me for a moment? I know I’m heavy and don’t fit into your arms the same anymore; you think I’m foreign to you, but I’m foreign to myself as well; I’m just tired and want you to scratch my back, you look at me differently now, and I want to know why, but for now hold me in your arms and tell me I’m okay, I don’t feel real anymore I need you to remind me I’m still your little girl please remind me I’m still there, I’m a tired and scared mom I don’t want to grow up anymore I changed my mind, as you pat my head and hold me in your arms you whisper to give myself time, that I don’t feel lost to you. I lay with you and let out the breath I’ve been holding in and finally sleep.

#poetry #girlhood #womanhood #finding myself #self awareness #yearning #richard siken #dark academia #girlhoodsgarden #prose #grief journal #on growing up #writers on tumblr #on instagram #on tumblr

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fireflyhwufanficwriter · 8 months

Text

My thoughts on Dr. Stone’s S03E02 (“Greed Equals Justice”)

(Safe to read for anime-only folks.)

My thoughts after watching Season Three, Episode Two:

01. Kohaku and Chrome like Senku's incredibly burnt bread, but poor Ryusui really, really wants a professional chef! That face he made looked so sketchy XD

02. This OP seems to be a lot less spoilery compared to past OPs! There's still stuff there that you can see, but not as much as it could have been. I guess they really wanted to keep some of the good stuff as a surprise! :D

03. The title of the second episode... Greed Equals Justice! :)

04. "Journalass" :D And she looked away, which must have showed Gen that Ryusui was onto something! And Minami does have an AWESOME name for a journalist! :D

05. Ah, we got some invention flashbacks! :)

06. "Enough for a tiger cub?" Hahaha! Is that some sort of Japanese idiom? It sounds funny and cool! XD

07. Francois is here! :) I think that when I first read the manga, I thought she would either have red hair or a red outfit. But since they gave Ryusui a red outfit in the anime, it makes sense that they'd give Francois a different color!

08. I like how she just started walking in presumably the right direction, since they didn't tell her she was going the wrong way. It's like she has a mental compass pointing straight to Ryusui XD

09. So Ryusui doesn't remember Francois' real name or gender... but he remembers her fashion style, and her clothing and shoe sizes? That's... some selective memory there :O

10. ...And she walked into the conversation, just like that! XD Poor Gen... this isn't the first time he's had to go through those woods without rest... AND he's barefoot! :O

11. Poor modern-timers... XD Kohaku and Chrome's stick figures looked happy, though! :D

12. Somebody asking Senku for an even MORE accurate figure than he's already provided... I don't blame him for looking perplexed XD

13. Time for stollen! :) Ah, so Kohaku knows how to use that... that... animal-catching thingy! That's good info! She surprised Ukyo with her animal catching, and Francois with her butter making :D

14. And the elderly folks are helping with the stollen, too! Pretty convenient that those berry plants are around their height! :)

15. Pretty cool to see Senku learning something and being on the sidelines while somebody else is doing the teaching! And he and Ryusui got scolded XD

16. Hmm, I'm going to have to figure out when they found the time to build that bread oven... It's too large to just be former iron forge, although they could have used some of the same bricks... but, no, even these new bricks are too large and square... :O

17. Senku helped by injecting water into the oven! :) And Francois totally wants him... to be part of the future Nanami Conglomerate :D

18. Chrome's so happy, Kohaku likes it, and even Ukyo is teary-eyed... :) We can also see random villagers enjoying it! And Francois showed us how to make bread! :)

19. Poor Minami... But everybody is so happy about Francois' bread! XD And there it is again, "tiger cub's worth of revival fluid" XD

20. While the others were talking about what Minami wanted in return, Kohaku was just in the background, quietly gobbling up that loaf of bread :D And aww, Kohaku's very considerate of Kaseki! :)

21. That car, those clothes, that drip... wow, Kaseki! :O ...Although the clothes didn't last for very long... XD

22. Some building, some science, and voila, a mirror! Another invention that Chrome and the elderly folks are enjoying! :)

23. That's what Minami REALLY wanted... a camera! :D And we got bits of backstory about her! It is SO in-character for a journalist to want to photograph the green light of the pertrification! She was the one who made me cry this episode. She made such a beautiful promise to Senku and the rest of them! :)

24. Grr, Senku... XD Well, at least Minami's going to take the first photo... and it's great that Ryusui knew who the subject of the stone world's first ever photograph should rightly be :)

25. Francois has great insight into Ryusui's motivations and desires! :O

26. A suit; an old-timey waistcoat thingy; some kind of rockstar getup that totally makes him look like Byakuya (and that buckle, hahaha! I see you, animators :D); another modern outfit, and... huh?! :O

27. Senku sticking his tongue out - the pose of the modern world's most famous scientist, recreated by the stone world's most famous scientist! :D

28. I wonder if those circle thingies in the ED are elements that somehow relate to the five wise generals? :O

29. Francois has joined the party; we've acquired bread, mirrors, and photography; and Minami took the very first photo in the stone world! :) But, oh, the next episode... "First Contact..." I CANNOT wait! :O I'm going to watch it right after I publish this post! :D

https :// fireflyhwufanficwriter . tumblr . com / MyDrStoneEpisodeMangaThoughts

#dr stone #ishigami senku #kohaku #dr. stone #dr stone kohaku #dr. stone kohaku

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moral-terpitude · 2 years

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Aloneliness - Part 1

Okay, I give up. I can’t make it through 10,000 of writing a one shot so I’ll post it in parts. As if I need one more thing to write.

Rambling A/N: I started listening to some of the songs from Cillian’s BBC 6 show and a few of them stuck with me, and then this idea fell in my lap so here we are. There’s some spots in the middle where it feels all over the fucking place, but I haven’t the patience to fix it. It may just be a me thing. The title probably sounds more dramatic than it should, but it is the title of a song by The Amity Affliction and I just really like the song. This first bit Is basically all flashback/ reminiscing.

The first time she really ever talked to him was the first time Orla invited her over. It must have been 1994. He was already 18, she was just turned 17. She was shy then, but undoubtedly infatuated with music. The acoustic guitar chords caught her ear as she headed back to her friends room from the bathroom, and he had heard the wood floor boards talk as she stopped outside the door.

Don't let them get you down

Making you feel guilty about

The mattress creaked as he stood, pulling the door open to see a shocked pair of emerald eyes widening, strands of red hair falling in her face as she turned to look at him, ear no longer pressed against the door.

Golden rain, will bring you riches

All the good things, you deserve now

“Sorry,” she gave an awkward smile, hands tucked in her sleeves, brown and yellow stripes, smoothing the left sleeve with the right hand, trying to find something to do to hide her shyness, “I wasn’t trying to be nosy, it just sounded nice.”

Climbing, forever trying

Find your way, out of the wild, wild wood

She turned to continue down the hallway, but he stopped her, a small smile touching his kind blue eyes, “No, wait, you can listen if you want.”

Now there's no justice

There's only yourself, that you can trust in

He was still in his school uniform, clearing the door way and heading back to the record player sat on the dresser between the two twin beds. Cream walls and navy bedsets made the room look rather dorm like, but each of his and Pàidi’s additions to the room made it their own. Instruments and posters, long outgrown figurines still in a bookshelf.

Sun came through the window, highlighting the specks of dust that floated the air at her disturbance of the space. If he had to guess she didn’t have on any makeup, but she didn’t need it either.

She was pale freckles on white skin, no longer burnt from the summer, and she would always be jealous of him being able to tan, even just the little that he did.

She leaned against the desk, meekly, realizing she’d never been in a boys room before. Littered with papers and guitar picks. An occasional candy wrapper or soda can discarded in the mix.

“Do you want me to start it over?” He offered, brushing brown hair off of his freckled face as he shed his jumper and tossed it on the neatly made bed.

“You don’t have to.”

He did.

It was obvious, the longer she was around, that she undoubtedly had a crush on him. With both her parents working in the bakery, their days seemed to run different than everyone else. The whole family, the three of them, started their day early, Meave rising as early as her parents to be to the bakery by 4 AM. She would work on homework and eat breakfast while smelling the fresh loaves of bread and sweets roll out of the oven. After school, most days, she would end up drug along whatever Orla and Sile had planned for their afternoons, and graciously included at their table for dinner, her own parents turning in to bed around 7 always left her to joke that dinner for a baker was at 3PM.

On Wednesdays, she would cram between her friends in a church pew, their parents oblivious to Orla’s pushing between the sitting, standing, and kneeling, that on more than one occasion landed her in Cillian’s lap.

Every so often on a Friday, they’d be allowed to take the car to the mall, after many minutes of lecturing from Mrs. Murphy to not distract the driver, which after the time Cillian backed into a station wagon, usually ended up being Sile.

“That’s so embarrassing,” Sile teased, as the three girls wandered the mall, desperate to stay away from the brothers who had ventured into the record store, “like how can you be our friend and like our brother? Eew.”

Orla laughed, “Hey, at least if they ever got married we would know that we like our new sister!”

She was red. As red as her hair as they teased her, but the stolen kisses in a house full of people when they would pass in a hall, or the nights of a sleep over that she would end up sat on the floor in his room, abandoning her friends while the two of them listened to a record or he played his guitar, confirmed their teasing to be the truth. She liked him.

“Hey, Meave, I just got a new record,” Cillian popped his head into Sile and Orla’s room where they sat doing homework, the sisters gossiping about, well now, she couldn’t remember what, “if you want to come listen to it.”

She flushed, closing her book with a nod and following him like a lost puppy before he finally admitted in the hallway, “Well, it isn’t new new, but I’ve just gotten it, anyway.”

Pàidi wasn’t home, and his parents had been thankfully oblivious to her migration to his room as they worked on grading papers. The door was never supposed to be closed if she was in there, but he shut it behind her as he started the music again and the new song played.

Darkness falls and she

will take me by the hand

She sat on the bed, books balanced on her lap as she finished the sentence she had been writing of her literature homework.

Take me to some twilight land

Where all but love is grey

Where I can't find my way

Without her as my guide

Meave was oblivious as he sat next to her that he was scheming, the way young men do.

Night falls

I'm cast beneath her spell

He pretended to read over her shoulder, until she finished the paragraph, finally feeling that he was watching her and not the words that she was writing on the paper.

Daylight comes

our heaven turns to hell

When she turned to face him he took the opportunity, and she let out a surprised squeak escaping her before she closed her eyes.

Am I left to burn and burn eternally

It was clear she didn’t really know what she was doing, but he made their lips fit, a small tilt of the head doing the trick.

She's a mystery to me

She's a mystery girl

Two sets of hands pounding on the door made them pull apart, “Dinner!” The girls yelled, running down the hall.

But those moments were the only thing that came of his actions for a long time. She had convinced herself that maybe everything she took as a sign was wrong, and that they were just meant to be friends, and Meave was content with that. She liked the way the each of the Murphy kids was somehow a different friend to her, and maybe that’s all Cillian was meant to be too.

By the time all the girls were out of school, they all practically lived at each others houses. Cillian had been going to college, but, had decided to rather pursue acting.

“Don’t you think,” Meave asked as they walked the block again, sky darkening as he handed her the much too big heather grey UCC jumper to wear as she shivered again, “that your Da and Ma will kill you?”

He laughed at her disheveled hair as she pulled her head through the crew neck, “I don’t know. Probably. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something they don’t like,” he shrugged, “it’s still better than all the trouble I got in at Presentation though.”

Around the end of September 1998 he had told her he liked her, shortly before he left for, well where did he go first, England? He was only supposed to do the show for two weeks in Cork, then suddenly he’s telling her he’ll be gone for two years. He would call her once or twice a week while they were still in Europe, but the collect call charges from Canada and Australia were expensive enough that he only called home maybe once a month.

She laughed, thinking of their time before WiFi and everyone owning cell phones.

“I can still tell when she misses him,” she sighed, continuing to mix the batter and pretending to be oblivious to her mother, in the front of the shop, chirping on the phone to Kathleen Murphy, “he gave her that Roy Orbison record before he left and it’s all she’ll listen to now.”

Kathleen’s call came early in the morning, following up Cillian’s call to Meave the night before.

“Meave, I’m sorry. It’s not fair, for you, to keep you waiting. I don’t know when I’ll be back, and—“

She did him the favor of interrupting him, “Cill, it’s…it’s okay,” she nodded as if he could see her, choking back the tears, “don’t worry. I’m not mad. Break a leg tonight. Okay?”

She could have puked. She almost did listening to her mother talk that next morning as if she wasn’t there at all. Stupid. She was stupid for thinking he loved her. Sneaking in to his room when she was at sleepovers with his sisters, letting him kiss her like he actually loved her. Like she actually owed him anything.

By the time he moved to London in 2001 from Dublin, she had convinced herself that the way she had seen his niceness to her must have been fairly one-sided. She was cute with freckles and red hair but not someone he was interested in. Never her.

Yes he’d been home, on and off for holidays and birthdays, so at least 8 times a year, but she did her best to stay hidden and out of the way when he visited. There were a few times he was in and out of the bakery to see her, but Sile had kept her fairly in the loop on his girlfriend situations.

Until there wasn’t one.

“Mom!” Meave wandered through their white brick house, backpack emptied of long discarded books and packed with clothes, slung over her shoulder, “Ma?”

“Yes, Grá?” Her mothers voice called from the kitchen.

“Can I go to the Murphy’s for New Year’s Eve? You and Da always fall asleep early and—“

“Will there be adults there?”

A beat. She weighed the odds. They were all technically adults. “Yes.”

Her look to the side as she lied was her tell.

“Do you think I came up the Lee in a bubble?”

“No, Ma.”

“Okay, so the truth. Before you go.”

“No, Mr. And Mrs. Murphy won’t be home. Yes we’re going to have a few drinks. That’s why I figured it was just better if I stay there.”

Her mother gave her a hug, patting her on the back. “Make good choices Meave Eimear.”

The house wasn’t total chaos when she arrived, but there were far more bodies present than she expected.

I can't stop, can't stop thinking

About you at all

Cillian had moved the stereo into the basement but it could still be heard through the house and it was clear who was in control of all the music that was fed into the 6 CD changer as she put her bag in Orla’s room. Sile had moved out within the year but wasn’t far from home.

But you wouldn't say no

Even though you're going with him

Here comes the night

Lead me on

“Hey!” His eyes lit up as they passed on the stairs, him and Pàidi looking fairly up to no good as they left the basement, each toting four cans of Guinness in their grasps.

“Hi.” Meave was holding up traffic as she searched for the rest of their kin.

“Here,” he sacrificed one of the cans to her, “I’ll be back.”

His blue eyes were alight with mischief he trailed after his younger brother.

By two in the morning everyone had ended up in the basement, Pàidi asleep on the couch in the living room, and none the wiser that he’d be locked out of his own bedroom for a period of time if he tried to crawl into bed.

She remembered waking up to the flash of the Polaroid as Sile and Orla giggled in the hallway. Luckily by that time they were clothed, although none of what Meave was wearing was her own, and in the midst of the party the night before, everyone was probably unaware to what actually happened. She had given him the last thing she could, the last new experience she had to offer, with all the other lines on the list being given to him as well, without the reciprocity of taking it from him in return. That ship had sailed, and for her own sake she was glad, that at least one of them knew what they were doing. At least one of them had been prepared.

He called her that next night to, short of apologizing, try asking her out properly, but she told him he didn’t need to.

“London is far away, Cillian. I care about you, but I want to see you happy, and a long distance thing? I don’t think it would work.”

She could almost hear him smile through the phone, words tinged with disappointment, “Meave, I just want you to know, I know I’ve been an idiot, but, I do care about you.”

His words almost made her sick, stuck apart with nothing to do to fix it. She swallowed her feelings knowing it was for the best if he was to make any kind of career out of his acting and continued on with her life in the small bubble of Ballintemple.

Within that week after his phone call, she had broke and went on three different dates with three different guys, out of spite. Pàidi had seen them at the one bar, and not long after, even when Cillian was home, he kept his distance.

A few weeks later, in the midst of a cool March morning, she did end up sick, with her head crammed in the toilet, just before heading into the bakery at 3:30 to work. Tears poured down her face as she got ready, face blotchy as her and her father rode in silence, but his words kept coming back into her head.

I know I’ve been an idiot, but, I do care about you.

She spent the day anxious and covered in flour, waiting for her father to depart and give her the chance to use the shop phone in private before she locked up the bakery. With Meave not having any college pursuits at the time, usually both her parents would work in the morning and she would come in and finish out the day, closing up the bakery in the afternoon. That day she was exhausted; her mother was sick, and her father had long since went home. Pile it all together and she was almost a bucket of tears from the lack of sleep.

The line rang and rang, before a familiar voice picked up on the other end, “Murphy residence, this is Orla.”

“Oh good it’s you, hey, would you be able to pick me up when I close up the shop. I need a favor.”

Her friend didn’t hesitate, as she sat in the running car, waiting to find out more about where they were going.

“Can you take me to the pharmacy? But not a nearby one. I don’t want anyone to see.”

The other girls brow furrowed, not taking the car out of park until Meave hooked her seat belt and gave a proper explanation about what was happening.

“I need to get a pee stick,” Meave sighed, ears reddening as she looked out the window.

“Oh, shit. Listen, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s probably just hormones or something, but let’s go get one.”

The bag from O’Sullivans was promptly discarded in the parking lot bin of the gas station that they stopped at on the way to Orla’s house in order to grab some juice and chips.

Meave hid the evidence in the little trash can as much as she could, all but shredding the box as she waited for the time to run out until she knew the truth.

“Orla, I think I’m going to be sick.”

The other girl barged into the bathroom as Meave remained on the toilet, pants still around her ankles in shock as they observed the menacing plastic stick on the counter.

The thin pink lines told her she was pregnant, and the dates she had been on gave her enough ambiguity as she sat on her parents couch that night shaking.

“I don’t know.” She insisted, for the tenth time, as her father questioned her of who the baby belonged to. He hadn’t approved of all the dates she had been going on, but she was 24 and what were they to do?

“I want to keep it,” she swallowed hard as her mother soothed her back.

“You’re right, you will. You’ve done this to yourself, you’ll take responsibility.”

Naturally, Meave and her father didn’t see much eye to eye after that night.

The apartment above the bakery would have the lease ending by the time the baby would be born, and with the building paid off her parents agreed to let her live there, rent free, for as long as she worked at the bakery. They would continue to pay her a wage, and, if by the time they were ready to quit working there, she would be the one to run the business, if she wanted.

Her mother, being her mother, was just as excited to become a grandmother as she could be, despite the situation. Which meant by the time Meave was three months along, of course Kathleen Murphy knew about the baby.

But Orla was the best secret keeper out of all of them, so she was the only one other than Meave who knew the truth about who the father was.

The Doctor visits were awkward. Usually her mother went just so Meave wasn’t alone.

However, there were times she did go alone.

By the end of those 9 months she felt she had become a different person. Some days she wondered if it were for the better or if she had gotten more cynical.

In small spurts her friends and some of her cousins helped her get moved in above the bakery. To her good luck, the apartment was the same expansive size as the business below, so even with a child she wouldn’t be cramped for space.

Her mother, after shooing her from the apartment on a rather warm afternoon even painted the room so it would be ready, a pastel pink for her soon to be granddaughter.

Meave never had a specific interest in a career, but she didn’t think that 13 years later she would still be running the bakery either.

She had done her best through the years to disregard his acting career, never thinking that a woman would have that guilt about “the one that got away.” Wasn’t it usually men that had those thoughts? Although proud from a distance, she couldn’t make herself sit through any of it, the torment on her heart being far too much.

She still remained friends with Sile and Orla, it was impossible to get away living all in the same town, and her friends children grew and needed a baby sitter, Maeve��s little Siobhan was more than happy to help out and earn some money.

Their families were still on good terms some, what, 20 years later? How many people could say they had friends for that long?

She still remembered, about 8 years prior, that she was surprised when in Orla’s stead Cillian came to pick up Liam’s birthday cake.

“I’ll be right there!” She called, surprised when the swinging door didn’t expose her friend coming through but instead a love she had lost.

“It’s just me,” his shoes scuffed the floor as Meave closed the box, luck on her side that she hadn’t been holding the cake because she surely would have dropped it, “didn’t want to startle you.”

His eyes were just as blue as they had always been and his smile still knocked the wind out of her.

He could see the tinge of pain behind her smile before his arms wrapped around her. He didn’t want to let her go.

“How have you been?” He whispered, hands warming her back as they parted. She knew the underlying questions that he meant, as she took in the wedding ring on his finger, but didn’t say (How’s your daughter? Are you married? Where are you living now? You’ve never left this place?) but instead of asking any of those he followed up with one that didn’t even matter, “Is that my UCC sweater?”

“Uh-“ she had started speaking, but his follow up question caught her off guard and made her blush, “uh, I’m good. Doing good. And wow, yeah, I guess it is, didn’t even realize it survived this long, sorry—“

He chuckled, fingers electric as he tucked loose hairs behind her ear, “It’s great to see you. Don’t be sorry; it looks good on you.”

“Sile said, well I haven’t seen it,” couldn’t bring myself to watch it more like, she thought, “but congratulations on whatever it was, I can’t remember now, the award you won at Cannes.”

Her wild hand gestures were just as endearing as they always had been.

“Oh,” he shrugged, a shake of his head, a tinge of embarrassment flooding his face, “uh, I didn’t win it, the film did, but yeah I was lucky to be able to be in it.”

The interactions over the years, only egged on more by his obliviousness to his sisters sending him to run an errand whenever he was home, frustrated Meave to no end.

The girls knew what they were doing, and Meave desperately tried to keep Cillian from ever seeing her daughter. Like some secret betrayal, she knew her theatre loving child would have so many questions for him if she got wind of what her Auntie Orla’s brother did for a living.

But, she hadn’t been expecting an exasperated Orla to come in to the bakery in the midst of the terrible February weather to deliver her the worst news that Meave had gotten in her 37 years.

And I leave you with a cliffhanger. 😬

I’m just tagging my regular taglist, if you don’t want to be tagged it this just let me know!

@zablife @kittycatcait219 @xbergiex @mariamyousef702 @moonxcillian @thedeadwalkingdixon @evita-shelby @wildheartsalwaysburn @midnightmagpiemama @shelundeadxxxx @cybernuttragedy456 @samcoving @l1-l4 @sassyrebelrockerprincess @julyzaa @yoursalwaysleo @star017 @bubblewinegyal @elenavampire21 @samyyjorlando @inloveppp @peakyv @iamsuperwholocked @georgeparisole @rockerchick05 @yadiimilena @kmcaddams13 @jddbcgjdn @yomaxzito @rainazinha @sikori-the-saiyan-princess-blog @inexpressiblybeautiful @julietweasley @drizzyreese @princessedelaserenite-1 @nik2blog @shublee @mimisalad @comfortzonequeen @ahart2819 @watercolorskyy @briannxh @sherlockvaleska @sindisinsin @kxrxntskxld @rainazinha @smailaway @freetimemachinequeen @crazyfoolishstupidme @cillmequick

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic

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aanabear2803 · 1 year

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First Line Tag game

So apparently I am to put up 10 of the latest fic titles and the first line of each... Tagged by @lu-inlondon well ok then

Hidden away She remembered the first time she burnt someone. When she discovered she could burn people. It had been an accident of course. Chloe had said something to her. And she let her fires flare out. Flare up to her until she burned just a nip on the skin.

The Fairy to Your Prince Marinette stretched, giving out a yawn. Watching the faint whisper of the sun rolling out of bed. She gave out a sigh, pushing her sheets of her body. Her wings fluttered behind her. Marinette opened her closet, using her binders to seal them tight. She tested it with a flex of her shoulders before putting on her clothes. Tying her hair up, she rushed out of her room heading towards the prince’s quarters.

Ripped Apart “Plagg I am not carrying around cheese for you. You will just have to be satisfied with cheese filled bread.” Marinette huffed, pointing at her purse.

Chemical Taste (NSFW) She always had this chemical smell to her. An itch he didn’t particularly liked at all. Marinette claimed she was a beta. A definite positive beta, but Adrien was just a little curious about it. Betas don’t smell the way she did. Not this artificial little spice that irritated him.

You Have Me, That's All You'll Need “You know Marinette,” Chat’s claws hung on the metal bars of her cage. He held a grin, staring down on her. “When my father dragged me into this plan I thought about how much I love my mother too much and agreed to it. Nothing more.” His claw slid down the bars, making little klinks. “Until I met you.”

Potion Making Marinette huffed, scanning her desk littered with a sort of potion ingredients. Chat Noir had told her he was running low on upgrades, that certainly would not do. So it was up to her to once again create the potions and keep them both in stock. She didn’t particularly mind at all. But it can get rather tedious.

Locked in a Tower Adrien leaned against the window, watching birds as the flew past him. He wished for freedom. He could only hope one day he would step outside and feel the breeze. His feet resting on soft damp grass. How light of a patter of rain would be on his face.

He heard a roar and the thump of footsteps. “Good morning to you too.” He mumbled to himself.

I can't Forgive You Marinette screamed into her gag, shifting violently in Kim’s arms.

“Hold still!” Kim grunted, placing her onto a bench. “You are such a pain Marinette.”

Dragon's Breath Emma stared at the tv screen first, then back to her phone.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir will be ok right sis?" Hugo choked out.

Princess Justice the Witch Chat pushes a branch away looking at the home. “This must be the place…” He fumbled around with his parchment as he took a couple steps to the home.

Looking around, trying to discern any spells that could be traps. He inched himself to the door. There was no door knocker of any kind. Carefully he reached out and pushed the door opened. There were no locks on it of any kind as he took a step in.

Well fuck me I don't know 10 people T-T I know like... @seas-of-silver, @redundant-lava @solaneandbawb @lilaflyy and @ck2k18

#Ask game #first line #this was fun

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catspittle · 9 months

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justmemethings muse info sheet, filled.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

{Basics}

Name: Kay "Jonathan" Robert Crane

Alias: Harvestman [Joan Leland only as of yet], the Scarecrow [like everyone], Jonny, Kitty [Honghui, main canon]

Gender: Genderqueer trans man.

Age: 64 as of 2023!

Species: Human, much to his deep dismay.

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio [November 16th] / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Double-jointed, previous metalworker, can sing, good at playing the èrhú, green thumb; owns a Thunder God Vine that's taken up most of the bathroom

{Personal}

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral if I had to pick something? It works the best.

Religion: Mahayana Buddhist

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English, Cantonese

Family: His mother, Kai-Lun Park, several half-siblings courtesy of his mother, several dead children

Friends: it's complicated :)

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / questioning / other [+aromantic polyam]

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / other - depends on universe

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other [idk depends on how you define brown vs. olive? he's brown]

Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot / 6-7 foot / above 7 foot

Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds

Scars: entire back down to tailbone pitted from broken glass being driven into it when it was thrown through a windshield, claw mark self harm scarring all over shoulders and collarbone, neck and vocal fold slashes, left hip partial replacement surgery, various self harm scars. No right breast [cancer], reduction scarring present on left, which is shoved to the side of his body from a pre-pubertal pneumothorax, oh yeah and his outer genitalia is partially melted because torture

Facial Features: lengthy, broken nose, narrow and leaf shaped eyes with the left pupil severely dilated, face and jaw are overall round, an underbite

Tattoos: a leaping koi fish in water stretching across the right side of his ribcage. The fish is black in color. Breaking Benjamin Celtic knot on left wrist at pulse point, in gold.

{Choose}

Dogs or Cats? Cats, but he's ambivalent overall.

Birds or Hamsters? Neither, small animals are a waste of time with too fragile respiratory systems.

Red or Blue? He literally can't see most shades of red.

Yellow or Green? Green, warm tones make him look burnt.

Black or White? Black. Gets dirty less.

Coffee or Tea? Neither, caffeine makes him sick.

Ice Cream or Cake? Neither, he's not a fan of sweets.

Fruits or Vegetables? Vegetables; nothing beats a good zucchini bread.

Sandwich or Soup? Ambivalent; either.

Magic or Melee? Melee, even though he knows he'll lose.

Sword or Bow? Neither, he fights with his fists.

Summer or Winter? Winter, it's cooler.

Spring or Autumn? He's indifferent yet again.

The Past or The Future? The past; the core tenet of his character is that he's wholly unable to move on from the things that have occurred to him.

tagged by: n/a tagging: whoever ig have fun

#Where there's smoke there's fire - HEADCANONS #masterpost #RP memes #visage #gore mention

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dfroza · 7 days

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for April 20 of 2024 with Proverbs 20 and Psalm 20, accompanied by Psalm 33 for the 33rd day of Astronomical Spring and Psalm 111 for day 111 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 20]

Too much wine begins to mock you,

too much strong drink leads to noisy fights,

and whoever is misled by either is not wise.

A king’s wrath strikes fear like a lion’s roar;

those who provoke him to anger sentence themselves to death.

Honor is due those who refuse to fight at the drop of a hat,

but every fool jumps at an opportunity to quarrel.

A slacker procrastinates when it is time to plow;

so when it’s time for harvest, there are no crops in the field.

The real motives come from deep within a person—as from deep waters—

but a discerning person is able to draw them up and expose them.

Most people claim to be loyal,

but can anyone find a trustworthy person?

The right-living act with integrity;

the children who follow their example are happy.

When a king sits on his throne as judge,

he ferrets out all evil and scatters it with his royal stare.

Who can say, “I have cleaned my heart”?

or who can proclaim, “I am purified from sin”?

False weights and differing measures are alike:

both are disgusting to the Eternal.

Youth reveal their true natures by their actions

whether they do what is pure and right or not.

Ears to listen, eyes to see—

the Eternal designed them both.

Do not fall in love with sleep, or you will awake a poor person.

Stay awake, get to work, and you will have more than enough food.

“Bad quality for a bad price,” bargains the buyer;

but then he runs off with his prize in tow, bragging, “What a steal!”

Gold and rubies abound,

but lips that utter knowledge are a rare jewel.

If someone guarantees a stranger’s debt, hold his garment as collateral;

if that stranger is a foreigner, hold the creditor responsible.

At first the bread of lies tastes sweet

until guilt reduces it to gravel in the mouth.

Plans are finalized on the basis of good counsel,

so only go to war when you have wise instructions.

A gossip will reveal your secrets!

So avoid the company of people who talk openly and foolishly.

If someone pronounces a curse on his parents,

the lamp of his life will be snuffed out as complete darkness creeps in.

An inheritance acquired hastily at first

will end up not being blessed after all.

Do not say, “I will get even for this evil.”

Wait for the Eternal; He will defend you.

He despises dishonesty in business;

false weights and deceptive scales are wrong.

Every one of our steps is directed by Him;

so how can we attempt to figure out our own way?

Those who rashly dedicate something to God are trapped;

only afterward do they realize what they’ve promised.

A wise king weeds out the wrongdoers,

then drives over them with his threshing wheel of justice.

The lamp of the Eternal illuminates the human spirit,

searching our most intimate thoughts.

Loyal love and faithfulness safeguard the king;

his throne is perpetuated through loyal love.

The best asset of youth is the strength of the body,

but the beauty of age is gray hair.

Severe punishment scrubs away evil,

and tough blows scour the innermost parts.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 20 (The Voice)

[Psalm 20]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

May the Eternal’s answer find you, come to rescue you,

when you desperately cling to the end of your rope.

May the name of the True God of Jacob be your shelter.

May He extend hope and help to you from His holy sanctuary

and support you from His sacred city of Zion.

May He remember all that you have offered Him;

may your burnt sacrifices serve as a prelude to His mercy.

[pause]

May He grant the dreams of your heart

and see your plans through to the end.

When you win, we will not be silent! We will shout

and raise high our banners in the great name of our God!

May the Eternal say yes to all your requests.

I don’t fear; I’m confident that help will come to the one anointed by the Eternal:

heaven will respond to his plea;

His mighty right hand will win the battle.

Many put their hope in chariots, others in horses,

but we place our trust in the name of the Eternal One, our True God.

Soon our enemies will collapse and fall, never to return home;

all the while, we will rise and stand firm.

Eternal One, grant victory to our king!

Answer our plea for help.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 20 (The Voice)

[Psalm 33]

Release your heart’s joy in sweet music to the Eternal.

When the upright passionately sing glory-filled songs to Him, everything is in its right place.

Worship the Eternal with your instruments, strings offering their praise;

write awe-filled songs to Him on the 10-stringed harp.

Sing to Him a new song;

play each the best way you can,

and don’t be afraid to be bold with your joyful feelings.

For the word of the Eternal is perfect and true;

His actions are always faithful and right.

He loves virtue and equity;

the Eternal’s love fills the whole earth.

The unfathomable cosmos came into being at the word of the Eternal’s imagination, a solitary voice in endless darkness.

The breath of His mouth whispered the sea of stars into existence.

He gathers every drop of every ocean as in a jar,

securing the ocean depths as His watery treasure.

Let all people stand in awe of the Eternal;

let every man, woman, and child live in wonder of Him.

For He spoke, and all things came into being.

A single command from His lips, and all creation obeyed and stood its ground.

The Eternal cripples the schemes of the other nations;

He impedes the plans of rival peoples.

The Eternal’s purposes will last to the end of time;

the thoughts of His heart will awaken and stir all generations.

The nation whose True God is the Eternal is truly blessed;

fortunate are all whom He chooses to inherit His legacy.

The Eternal peers down from heaven

and watches all of humanity;

He observes every soul

from His divine residence.

He has formed every human heart, breathing life into every human spirit;

He knows the deeds of each person, inside and out.

A king is not delivered by the might of his army.

Even the strongest warrior is not saved by his own strength.

A horse is not the way to victory;

its great strength cannot rescue.

Listen, the eye of the Eternal is upon those who live in awe of Him,

those who hope in His steadfast love,

That He may save them from the darkness of the grave

and be kept alive during the lean seasons.

We live with hope in the Eternal. We wait for Him,

for He is our Divine Help and Impenetrable Shield.

Our hearts erupt with joy in Him

because we trust His holy name.

O Eternal, drench us with Your endless love,

even now as we wait for You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 33 (The Voice)

[Psalm 111]

Praise the Eternal.

I will thank Him with all my heart

in the presence of the right-standing and with the assembly.

The works of the Eternal are many and wondrous!

They are examined by all who delight in them.

His work is marked with beauty and majesty;

His justice has no end.

His wonders are reminders that

the Eternal is gracious and compassionate to all.

He provides food to those who revere Him.

He will always remember His covenant.

He has shown the mighty strength of His works to His people

by giving the land of foreign nations to them.

All His accomplishments are truth and justice;

all His instructions are certain.

His precepts will continue year in and year out,

performed by His people with honesty and truth.

He has redeemed His people,

guaranteeing His covenant forever.

His name is holy and awe-inspiring.

Reverence for the Eternal is the first step toward wisdom.

All those who worship Him have a good understanding.

His praise will echo through eternity!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 111 (The Voice)

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rihtual · 8 months

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IF ANYBODY'S GOING TO GIVE YOU TROUBLE, IT'LL BE ME. [ … ] @voidbeings

The daughter of the moon is always searching, but this was a sealed fate. This was something that she hadn’t fought to swallow: the truth of the matter is she’ll always be hobbling along with some giant gash inside of her chest. That’s how it is for any vexed woman, isn’t it? That’s how it goes when trauma picks a house and moves in, boarding up the windows, locking the doors, letting the grass grow tall and angry. She had eaten that young girl and burnt her bones for firewood. Survival leaves no children, and her past hadn’t been an exception. Her once pomegranate heart is now an overripe melon — bulging and pregnant with earthworms. She wonders if Miguel can sense those countless deaths she has gone through. The constant transformations, the swelling of the wound before it burst completely. That’s how it is for entities like them. The claws, the teeth, the inner beast. A blink, expression a lament towards dry amusement and dull annoyance. Her temper is quick and sharp, she is haunted by immortality — age-less, grief-less. What could he do against the worm-fed heart of a reaper? ‘I’m not paying you for security [...] actually I’m not paying you at all.’ Mouth twitching with an almost smile, lips crescent shaped for a moment before they drop back into a grimacing frown. The armor of her response, although knife-tongued and cruel, hides a rather vulnerable concern. The search for answers and justice for her early beginnings might cause her location to be known. Fingertips run gingerly through the files, searching for one name, Sarah Kinney. Most of their records have moved to digitized, but if she’s lucky there might be a bread crumb of a file. A nod towards the door, ‘Just keep watch.’ The office of the medical chief is seemingly quiet due to the night shift’s residents being called to a totally unrelated group of wanted criminals being beaten to pulp and dropped off outside the emergency department’s doors. Her bullet wound is healed over already, one of the men put one right through her shoulder, but to his surprise she had ended up dislocating his shoulder in return. A bluff of a warning, she knows there might be a softening resolve within her for those who do aid her in her journey. Still, he doesn't need to know that. ‘I don’t do debts, by the way [...] you’re doing this out of the goodness of that arachnid heart of yours or not at all.’

#LAURA KINNEY.

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madewithonerib · 11 months

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Lesson #1.3: Book of Apostolic Acts

3.] The World-Side Revelation of this Aim: An actual, historical event. With the appearance in India of the Upanishads [800 to 600 B.C.]. Gautama, the Buddha [560-480 B.C.], Mahavira [599-527 B.C.], Confucius [551-479 B.C.] Lao Tze [604-517 B.C.], in China, Zarathushtra [660 to 538 B.C.] in Persia, &the Pre-Exilic prophets [750-586 B. C.] in Israel, sacrifices, ceremonies, propitiations, & other externalities ceased to be enough to make up the religious life of man.

In this period the principle of peace on Earth to men of good will swept across face of the Earth. [Mi 6:6-8; Is 58:1-59; 15; Ac 10:34-35; Ro 2:6-11]

• Micah 6:6-8 | ⁶ With what shall I come before the LORD when I bow before the GOD on high? Should I come to HIM with burnt offerings, with year-old calves? ⁷ Would the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with 10K rivers of oil? Shall I present my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? ⁸ HE has shown you, O mankind, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you but to act justly, to love mercy, & to walk humbly with your GOD?

• Isaiah 58:1-59 | ¹ “Cry aloud, do not hold back! Raise your voice like a ram’s horn. Declare to MY people their transgression & to the house of Jacob their sins. ² For day after day they seek ME and delight to know MY ways, like a nation that does what is right & doesn’t forsake the justice of their GOD. They ask ME for righteous judgments; they delight in the nearness of GOD.” ³ “Why have we fasted, & YOU have not seen? Why have we humbled ourselves, & YOU have not noticed?” “Behold, on the day of your fast, you do as you please, and you oppress all your workers. ⁴ You fast with contention & strife to strike viciously with your fist. You cannot fast as you do today & have your voice be heard on high. ⁵ Is this the fast I've chosen, a day for a man to deny himself, to bow his head like a reed, & to spread out sackcloth & ashes? Will you call this a fast and a day acceptable to the LORD? ⁶ Isn’t this the fast that I have chosen: to break the chains of wickedness, to untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free & tear off every yoke? ⁷ Isn’t it to share your bread with the hungry, to bring the poor & homeless into your home, to clothe the naked when you see him, & not to turn away from your own flesh & blood? ⁸ Then your light will break forth like the dawn, & your healing will come quickly. Your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of YHWH will be your rear guard. ⁹ Then you will call, & YHWH will answer; you will cry out, & HE will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger & malicious talk, ¹⁰ & if you give yourself to the hungry & satisfy the afflicted soul, then your light will go forth in the darkness, & your night will be like noonday. ¹¹ The LORD will always guide you; HE will satisfy you in a sun-scorched land & strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. ¹² Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins; you will restore the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of the Breach, Restorer of the Streets of Dwelling. ¹³ If you turn your foot from breaking the Sabbath, from doing as you please on MY Holy Day, if you call the Sabbath a delight, & the LORD’s Holy Day honorable, if you honor it by not going your own way or seeking your own pleasure or speaking idle words, ¹⁴ then you will delight yourself in YHWH, & I will make you ride on the heights of the land & feed you with the heritage of your father Jacob.” For the mouth of YHWH has spoken.

• Isaiah 15:1-9 | ¹ This is the burden against Moab: Ar in Moab is ruined, destroyed in a night! Kir in Moab is devastated, destroyed in a night! ² Dibon goes up to its temple to weep at its high places. Moab wails over Nebo, as well as over Medeba. Every head is shaved, every beard is cut off. ³ In its streets they wear sackcloth; on the rooftops and in the public squares they all wail, falling down weeping. ⁴ Heshbon & Elealeh cry out; their voices are heard as far as Jahaz. Therefore the soldiers of Moab cry out; their souls tremble within. ⁵ My heart cries out over Moab; her fugitives flee as far as Zoar, as far as Eglath-shelishiyah; with weeping they ascend the slope of Luhith; they lament their destruction on the road to Horonaim. ⁶ The waters of Nimrim are dried up, & the grass is withered; the vegetation is gone, and the greenery is no more. ⁷ So they carry their wealth & belongings over the Brook of the Willows. ⁸ For their outcry echoes to the border of Moab. Their wailing reaches Eglaim; it is heard in Beer-elim. ⁹ The waters of Dimon are full of blood, but I'll bring more upon Dimon —a lion on the fugitives of Moab, and on the remnant of the land.

• Acts 10:34-35 [Berean] ³⁴ Then Peter began to speak: “I now truly understand that GOD does not show favoritism, ³⁵ but welcomes those from every nation who fear HIM and do what is right.

• Romans 2:6-11 [Berean] ⁶ GOD “will repay each one according to his deeds.” ⁷ To those who by perseverance in doing good seek glory, honor, & immortality, HE will give eternal life. ⁸ But for those who are self- seeking & who reject the truth and follow wickedness, there will be wrath & anger. ⁹ There will be trouble and distress for every human being who does evil, first for the Jew, then for the Greek; ¹⁰ but glory, honor, and peace for everyone who does good, first for the Jew, then for the Greek.

¹¹ For GOD does not show favoritism.

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