but story

Dishonest hypocritical pastor loses it all.

I use to be very religious. At the end of that period in my life, I became involved with a new church that was pastored by a charismatic young pastor who seemingly had everything going for him. But the fucker was greedy. Too greedy. As the saying goes: “pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered.” Pastor Hog got slaughtered.

My wife and I were looking for a church. An old friend invited us to a new church that was energetic and full of friends. We started attending regularly and eventually became involved with the leadership of the church.

After a while, I started to become uneasy around the pastor. The way he communicated with people just rubbed me the wrong way. I slowly realized that he was a manipulator and compulsive liar. Quick with an overzealous compliment but slow to explain himself when issues arose.

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I am sorry but…” she said. “Could you please stop making people feel like it was their fault why you fall out of love with them. Stop putting the blame on their shoulders. Causing their knees to bend and fall to the ground.” she took a deep breath to calm herself. She tried to say it in a kind way. Knowing that she’s trying so hard—enough not to burst into tears. She’s mad and she’s still trying to keep it down. “Please stop trying to turn a soft beautiful heart into a cold colorless hole. Because it was never easy to bring it back.
—  ma.c.a // Some words are harsh, Some words are true

On the last day of school, every kid in our school was forced to attend graduation- which is usually one of the most boring parts of the year.  This year, however, our student council president wrote a speech that, instead of the usual talking about how great this year’s graduating class was, called out verbal bullying in our school and dissed at least half of our teachers this year.  

The look on everyone’s faces were priceless.

Not Like Other Girls

osh swept Laura’s coat off of her shoulders and hung it in the closet. “Here we are.” Smiling at her with affection, he inquired “Wine?”

She nodded. He paused, holding her gently. “You know, you’re not like other girls, Laura.” There was a tender kiss on her forehead, and he left.

Laura watched him go. Over the last five months, she’d come to believe that he genuinely adored her, which made her happy. His adoration was all she wanted.

The sound of clanging metal erupted from the kitchen, followed by a cheerful “Whoops!” from Josh. Laura chuckled as she went into the den and made herself comfortable on the couch.

While she waited, she heard a tinkling noise coming from the closet. She looked towards the kitchen, assuming Josh would come in any second. He didn’t. The tinkling persisted.

Laura scanned the room, and hesitantly approached the closet door. The knob was old and required a good strong twist, but she was able to get it open.

She was greeted by an unexpectedly musty smell…and an unmistakable breeze, wafting towards her from behind the coats and knick-knacks in the closet. Curious and surprised, she pushed the coats to the side and gaped when a set of stairs was revealed.

The tinkling continued, louder now.

Laura looked behind her cautiously. Once she’d verified Josh was still in the kitchen, she noticed a light switch on the wall. She flicked it on and descended the stairs.

The tinkling grew louder yet.

Laura stared in horror.

Chained to the wall were four women. Dried blood was caked around their wrists and ankles. Three were unconscious (she hoped) and hung limply. One was awake, but barely. She weakly moved her arms, causing the tinkling.

Before she could move, there was a voice in her ear.

“See, Laura, I told you you’re not like other girls,” Josh said. “None of the others were as dumb—”

His words were cut off by an elbow to the face. He staggered back to the stairs, just in time for Laura to land a blow to his skull with a fireplace poker.

Laura stood over the prone figure, a look of disgust on her face. Five months of pretending to care about this fuckface, five months of concealing her true motives, just to get access to this room.

She went to the conscious woman, opened the manacles. Held her when she fell to her knees, emaciated and weak.

“It’s okay now, sis,” Laura said softly. “I’m here.”

Sigils and Wards

On the edge of town near campus, in the basement of a bar, there is a tattoo parlor. There is a rumor on campus that the tattoos there provide protection that you all desperately need, that the artist uses salt and iron in her inks. These statements are true, to a degree. There are no signs to guide you there; you will need to find it by yourself. You should have no trouble, if you truly need it. Knock five times in the familiar rhythm: “Shave and a haircut…” You may feel the sensation of a pair of eyes watching, like a spider on the back of your neck. Ignore it, and the door will swing open. Turn around to see whom it could be, and you will never find your way home.

 Inside, you will find the artist. The many inky lines that traverse her body obscure her age and facial features; if you stare at them too long, you may get dizzy. She always knows what you want. You want protection, like everyone else. She will tell you her price. This is your only chance to leave. If you do not accept the price, you can turn around and go home. If you accept, then the work begins.

 She starts by giving you a strange drink that tastes of honey and mulled wine, but also of iron and acid. You will both recite a prayer, as her eyes roll back and her tongue lolls and she speaks in a language you do not understand. Then, she will begin the tattoo. You do not get to choose the design, but then again, neither does she. If you could ask her about it later, which you can’t, because you will never see her again, she would tell you that her trances let her connect with her god, and that your blood is only a part of the sacrifice that you eventually make. That iron and salt embedded in skin are not the only protection this will provide.

 When she is done, your skin will be raw and bleeding, and she will tell you how to care for it. Wash it three to five times a day and then apply ointment derived from wool wax. Should you follow the instructions, and the tattoo heals well, you will never need to carry iron or salt again; the sigil on your skin is that of an older god, one that even the Gentry would not cross. Should you neglect your new tattoo, you will wish the Fair Folk had been able to get to you first; this being does not take kindly to sacrilege. You will see other students on campus that bear the mark; on the new moon, you will meet them in the woods and dance. The morning after, you will wake up in your dorm, with no memory of the night before. But you sleep soundly, knowing that nothing will take you. Not yet, anyway.

x

You’re in your 20’s and what feels like the 727th time this year things aren’t going as planned.

Ok, well what’re you going to do about it? You were born with soul of a lion sweetheart and being a princess doesn’t mean you’re fragile it means you’re fierce and you overcome. Why’re you still sitting on the floor bitching about it? You’re better than this.

Cool, sometimes shit doesn’t go exactly how we want. You’re might be doing this part of life alone right off the bat so you gotta step up to that. The ball is coming at you 96 mph and you’ve forgotten to wear your helmet, but it’s okay. You’ve got this. It’s scary. But you’re grown. You’ve faced worse.

Breathe. There’s zero reason to cry. Don’t stress. I know it feels like you’re playing this game and it’s strike 2, 3 balls, and you’re the only one on your team. But sometimes certain adventures in life are ones we do alone. This is one of those for you. It’s ok.

Exhale. You hit the ball, it’s a homer, the game goes on. Like it always does. You’ve always pulled through. You get another 4 balls and another 3 strikes before you’re out, don’t give up. You don’t need a team. You are the team.

3

every letterby @bleebug

But you must know that what I felt for her never even came close to what I felt for you. I craved your approval and love more than anything. And just the thought of losing you made me physically ill; it absolutely wrecked me. I couldn’t possibly fathom a world in which Emma Swan and Killian Jones were no longer best friends. And my heart ached for a world in which we were more.

more aesthetics | manips | links

Go Back To Sleep

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1.894

Warnings: Sexual Content aka grinding and SUCKING DICK

A/N:Imma go now @god01jr​ I warned you dude

Anywhoo, please enjoy:D (And tell me how I did)

This gif does not belong to me. Credit to the owner:)


“Y/N…” he mumbled.

You were woken up by Jungkook mumbling a multitude of unintelligible things but heard your name among those things. You felt a warm body right behind you and a strong arm around your waist. This was definitely not how you went to bed. You tried to pull his arm off of you but he grunted softly and pulled you closer.

After he had you even closer, his breathing evened out and he peacefully and unconsciously started rubbing your exposed stomach. He started on your stomach at least. After he rubbed one section of skin, he would move higher up. Slowly, he eventually reached your breast and stilled his hand there.

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anonymous asked:

Ladrien, Enemies AU

“Looks like someone’s on their last life.”

Chat Noir smirked. “You’re not exactly doing so well yourself, bug.”

Ladybug chuckled, the sound harsh as it echoed over the brick wall behind Chat Noir. “I’m doing better than you.” She glanced down at his ring as she swung her yo-yo. “One paw left. What a catastrophe.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not so easy to pin down.” He readjusted his grip on his baton as he spoke, scanning his surroundings for a path he could use to escape. “But you’re purrfectly welcome to try.”

He leapt out of the way the second she struck, her yo-yo digging into the wall behind him, instead of wrapping around his arms. Chat Noir raced to the edge of the roof and dove, his baton dragging down the side of the building as he went, slowing his fall enough so he could release his transformation in a bright flash of green and run to the main road the second his feet hit the ground.

Ladybug couldn’t be too far behind him, and he only stopped to catch his breath once he’d managed to put some distance between them. Plagg peeked up at him from his pocket. “Kid, that was way too close.”

“I know,” Adrien managed through gulps of air. “She’s getting better.”

Plagg ducked back into Adrien’s pocket seconds before something landed behind Adrien. He knew who it would be without looking, but he couldn’t let her know that. He fought every instinct to flinch or run or show any sign of fear. Right now, his only hope was tricking her into thinking he was a random Parisian walking home in the dead of night.

Ladybug stepped in front of him. “Have you seen-” She paused, recognition flashing in her eyes, almost too fast for Adrien to be sure he saw it. Then, she cleared her throat and continued, “Did Chat Noir come by here?”

Adrien shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned. “I could have sworn he went this way. What about anyone running through here?”

“No. It’s been pretty quiet.”

She grimaced. “Well, it’s not the safest part of town.” She tensed and turned on him. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“My friend was playing at a club down the road.” Adrien blurted out the first excuse he could think of. “I lost track of time.”

“Really?” Ladybug stepped closer. “Which friend?”

“Nino.”

And he really should have noticed the way her tone changed when she asked the question, the way it settled into something too light to be natural. He should have paid attention to the way she positioned herself so she could wrap an arm around his waist easily if he gave the wrong answer. Somehow, he’d done just that, because in an instant, Ladybug’s arm was around his waist, and he was flying through the air, an iron grip holding him to her side.

“I think there’s someone you need to meet, Chat Noir,” Ladybug called down to him over the sound of wind whipping past his ears.

Adrien froze, his heart sinking as panic rose in his chest. Because if Ladybug knew who he was, he knew exactly who she was taking him to see.

And he was not ready to face Hawkmoth.


I feel like I see a lot of Chat Noir/Adrien working for Hawkmoth, but I kind of wanted to write something where it’s Ladybug for a change.

Send me a ship and an AU, and I’ll write something for it!

Kiwi: Part Seven

A series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album.

Click here to read the previous chapters.


AUTHOR’S NOTE: For a few reasons, I’ve decided to introduce our name to our main character in the story. From here on out she will be called “Calliope,” or “Cal” for short. I will be editing the previous chapters accordingly, and I hope you love her as much as I do. xx

FEATURED SONGS: Just A Feeling by Maroon 5 & I Wanna Wake Up With You by Boris Gardiner

PS: A special thanks goes out to my beautiful friend @dirtystyles & my partner-in-crime @selenogomez for this one. Couldn’t have done it without either of you. xx



She had absolutely nothing fancy to wear.

When Harry asked her to go out to dinner with him, Calliope had said “yes” right away. It was to be their first proper date, aside from cliff diving and surfing, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit excited.

Except when she’d gone to plan her outfit for the night, she realized that she hadn’t brought anything remotely like a nice dress. Her wardrobe consisted of a handful of shorts that reached down to just above her knees, several t-shirts and tank tops of different colors, and a few swimsuits and sports bras that she’d wear while surfing. So, she turned to the only other friend that she really had.

“I need something to wear!” Cal announced loudly as she walked into the bar, stunned with how incredibly normal she sounded. The phrase itself was so typical of someone her age, that it tasted weird on her lips.

Pipo stuck his head out from around the corner into the kitchen, a confused look on his face.

“I’m going out with Harry,” she explained, shutting the door behind her in frustration and walking towards the large man. “And I have nothing to wear.”

Pipo pursed his lips tightly as he looked at her features—he could see that she wasn’t joking, and it shocked him to the core because it was the first time that he’d seen her ask for help.

She took a seat on the barstool and watched as he walked behind the bar and to the phone, lifting it from the receiver and dialing a number that he clearly knew by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asked, brows furrowed as she leaned forward onto her forearms.

He chuckled lightly, turning to look at her with an amused expression coloring his features.

“My wife.”

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Mr. Smartass [M]

What happens when you get partnered with know-it-all, Kim Namjoon, for a class project?

4k / smut / college!AU


“You will be partnered with…Namjoon Kim.”

Your professor’s words hung in the air, tension filling the large classroom.

Your fists clenched by your sides, trying your best to keep a neutral expression because you knew all eyes were on you, waiting for a reaction. Despite praying to be matched with your best friend, your professor’s “random” selection process had other plans. Just your luck, you had been partnered with the resident class know-it-all.

   Just perfect.

   Namjoon was an exchange student from South Korea that had come earlier in the semester, though you honestly wouldn’t have known he wasn’t born in the States because his accent was almost unnoticeable. There’s always been some palpable tension between the two of you, even dating back to the first day of class. Whenever you went to answer a question, he would refute it with some smartass comment. The two of you would go on for minutes, debating heatedly back and forth from across the classroom while everyone looked on like they were waiting for things to get violent (and it almost did, several times you had to stop yourself from throwing your textbook at his perfectly groomed head).

   You both were undoubtedly the best students in the class, though, if Namjoon’s grade was even a decimal point higher, you knew it was because he kissed the professor’s ass way more than necessary.

   Your professor continued reading the rest of the pairs from his list and you took a deep breath, thinking of ways to get out of this assignment.

   “I’m expecting great things from you all,” he said, looking between you and Namjoon with a smile before sending a wink in your direction. Your jaw dropped; this was definitely a setup, “Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to meet up with your partners before you leave and exchange emails and phone numbers!” he called over the sound of thank you’s and chairs scraping against the floor.
   
Putting your pride aside, you rose from your chair and walked to the other end of the room, rolling your eyes as you passed your best friend. She was gave you a pitiful smile as she spoke to her partner, a boy with a headful of greasy curls that covered half his face.

You finally made it over to him, and his eyes were trained on something he was reading on his phone.

“Namjoon,” you said cordially.

“Y/N,” he replied dryly, not even bothering to look up from the device.

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It doesn’t take much for glass to shatter.
It doesn’t take much for people to shatter,
Either.
Sometimes, I think people forget that.
When something is shattered,
No matter what you do.
It can’t be restored.
—  v.r. // letters of heartbreak
4

Remy was sitting at the dining table, head in his arms, deep in his own pain, and was barely listening to the conversation between Nico and Allison. But he reacts quickly when he hears the slap, rushes across the room to Allison. He pulls his sobbing sister in law far from Nico.

Remy upset: What the f*ck, Nico? Have you lost your damn mind? Are you for real right now?

Nico is silent, his body tense with anger. 

Allison whispers: I’m so sorry, I am. I’m so so sorry.

Remy comforts: Shh. It’s okay, Allie. I won’t let him hurt you. Stop crying.

Nico: I need to talk to my wife, Remy.

Remy: No the hell you don’t. You need to get away from her. For her sake and yours. Put your hands on her again. It’ll be Cain and Abel up in this b*tch. 

Nico low: I’m not going to touch her but we have to discuss this.

Remy angry: Go talk to Lala for me like you said you would. Go get yourself together. You gone be so embarrassed and ashamed of this, watch. It’s hard to come back from something like this. How the hell you gone hit her? She’s so small. I didn’t even hit her in the hospital and trust me, I wanted to. Just go and think on this, you need to.

Remy wasn’t happy Allison was hurt, but he was glad for the distraction. Comforting Allison took his mind off Lala, off losing her forever. But he felt deeply sorry for his brother. Once Nico’s anger subsided, he was going to be filled with shame and regret.

Nico cold: Fine. I’ll talk to Lala. But you and I aren’t finished, Allison. Not at all.

Allison puts her face deeper into Remy’s chest, sobs wracking her small body. What had she done?