#just didn’t have the time to order the reeds and have them come in and also learn how to basketweave a bamboo hat. in less than four days

[theenderwalker]

decided sunday of con last weekend that i was going to attempt to make a wearable xie lian for con *this* weekend, and honestly it’s going really well so far. i’ve made the shirt/zhong yi, and im about probablyyy halfway on the skirt? i need to assemble and attach the waistband. the wig is already done just needs brushing & touchups from con. here’s the outfit so far, im planning to add some form of sheer outer layer!

[co-mixed]

Secret Wars: Why Reed Didn’t Win

Disclaimer: This post is 100% anti-Reed propaganda and may or may not be sponsored by Latverian government.

Secret Wars is probably the most ambitious event in the Marvel Universe. Building the multiverse and the Ultimate for 15 years only to collapse it all, that’s a huge deal. And of course, Jonathan Hickman was there to see it through. With his tendency to rewrite the whole world order, we get a whole bucket of new mythology, and let me tell you, when it was first coming out, it wasn’t easy to keep all the new info in your head. Now though, that everything is released and cataloged, it’s just a matter of a free week. 

So we start...

We actually start with the Fantastic Four, Avengers, and New Avengers. Those are the three “homework” reads that you need to go through to fully dive into the Battleworld and its origin. New Avengers is the more important one here since it’s tied directly to the events of Secret Wars. And that’s really the one that I wanna focus on, cause… RICHARDS. 

This infuriating man is a part of the Illuminati (you’ve heard of them), and they reassemble in the face of a collision. Nay, multiple collisions with other worlds. As per habit, they choose to cover it all up and pretend that they know everything better than anyone else and get to make the calls. This was a collective work of Charles (with Beast taking over later), Strange, Stark, T’Challa, Namor, and Reed. Of course the whole ordeal stinks of Richards and Stark. It’s not the first rodeo for either and don’t for a second think that they act any differently than they have all the times before. 

The solution that this intellectual elite comes up with is what they call “the unthinkable”. Makes it easier to think about it (but not to do it). To save their world, they have to kill every world (meaning the universe) that 616 is about to collide with. We care very little for a random Earth-5786 or Earth-515151 so what’s the problem? Besides, most of the universes were already dead. But there comes a moment when 616 is about to collide with a healthy world where a group of heroes is fighting tooth and nail for survival.

As good storytelling demands, we get to know them before seeing them die. But that’s not even the point. There was a superhero fight, Strange pulled a rabbit out of a hat, but ultimately, the question stood of whether to kill that universe or await the end of 616. And no one could pull the trigger. T’Challa came up to the plate and said hell nah, Richards backed out (because someone else has to save his family, apparently), everyone refused to do it, except Namor. 

Which, sure, you can say he’s evil (and even list one by one all of his shady deeds), but if he hadn’t done it then, there would be no world to save. There would be no raft or Battleworld. Everyone would be dead (on both Earths). But that doesn’t sit well with heroes’ egos. Not with the way they see themselves, they all want to believe that the heroic sacrifice is better than the burden of knowing that you did the best you could under circumstances. 

They all question Namor and really, thank Doom (what, too soon?) Namor was arrogant enough to be able to justify his actions and even walk away. Even alive.

What’s Namor up to 

Namor goes to all the baddies, including Doom, and asks for help. Because it takes a villain to do the unthinkable. You know why? Because heroes don’t want to get their hands dirty. And in the year of our Doom 2025, we know well enough that you can’t remain clean if you want to get anywhere. But the Illuminati, for all their talk, are not just looking for an intellectual and classy solution. They know there isn’t one. So they are keeping themselves busy, trying to outsmart each other and trick the rest into doing the hard part. That’s not what all heroes would do, no. Some would die trying to save everyone, some would save who they can, but these… these guys were trying to save their conscience. And they did, while Namor was getting his hands very dirty alongside Thanos, his Cull Obsidian, and Black Swan (who turned out to be just a Doom cultist, go figure). 

Namor sent Thanos to clear every Earth that was on a collision course until there were only two left. We do care for the Ultimate Earth. 

Doom had other plans

Wouldn’t be fair to say that Doom orchestrated the whole shebang. Doom would probably say so, but we don’t have to believe them. Besides, we know that there was a grand design behind it all. And it included eventual destruction of all that is… was. Of all. Doom merely sped up the process and attempted to control it, which is really not a bad thing to do. It’s the same approach the Illuminati used only much more complex, layered, and clever. Don’t ever say Doom is stupider than Richards. 

Doom did save the world, parts of every world in fact. He did what never even occurred to anyone else. All the Illuminati wanted was to save their hides. Or die in a blaze of glory and live forever as heroes of the multiverse. Because if you’re a skeptic and you really peel layers of care for other people, wanting to save what everyone loves, standing for everything good against everything bad… When you take it all away, there is just saving yourself and all that you love. It just happens to be in this world. 

That’s why they kicked out Cap, that’s why he hunted them down. 

Back to Doom though, we want to give him a hard time for taking on the role of god. We probably even want to praise Strange for not doing it. But we can only really imagine what world would it be with Strange at its helm. Strange, or anyone else acting in anonymity under seven stamps of secrecy. 

The world Doom built was not ideal. Wasn’t even good, I mean, he made sure all his enemies were busy fighting for their lives. He even gave them all targets to aim their heroism at. There was always injustice, there was always someone or something to fight. What he didn’t take into account was villains. He gave them thrones but not a single one of them ever stopped eyeing his throne with envy. That’s villains for you, that’s why their Sinister Sixes and Frightful Fours never work out. It’s always a backstabbing festival, and Doom being god doesn’t change that. 

Not a single Richards in sight 

Doom hates Reed, which makes it hard to hate Doom. But for the most part, Reeds took care of themselves with their cursed council. So was it shocking that there were no Reeds anywhere? Not so much. It was actually a pleasant change. Doom did save Reed’s family though, the family Reed lost during malfunction on the raft. The family he claims he was ready to sacrifice worlds for.

I mean his raft was a great cover to pack all his family and a couple of extra bodies, and head for the hills to “preserve the human race” (didn’t even consider mutants or Skrulls — Reed hates Skrulls). He would’ve gotten on the raft himself (hello, genius!), would’ve packed Val there (again, genius), Franklin can remake worlds so that’s handy, and Sue… well, someone needs to cook for all the great minds? Okay, he was planning to stick her, Ben, and maybe Johnny as security crew. That was the great plan when he failed to save everyone. How is that any better than Nu-Earth, Reed? How are you any better? 

Again, he failed. And everything he did after when Battleworld started falling apart, was merely piggybacking on the idea Doom had with his far more vast resources (his son. Yes, he used his child as a world maker). And it wasn’t even all his idea. Really, he should’ve come to Valeria in the first place instead of running around hiding in secret societies. 

Reed didn’t win, he wasn’t a hero. He was just second. He got the time he needed to tackle the issue, he got what Namor and Doom both gave him. He failed. 

[momentov1vere]

Assigning PJO/ HoO characters to Knights Radiant orders (+ my reasoning)

I put too much thought into this not to share it somewhere so here’s a sort-of character analysis that is much longer than it needs to be (bc I was bored and stuck in a car for 10 hours) :)

Not sure how much of a crossover there is between the PJO and Stormlight Archive fandoms but this was mostly for fun (and I want to see what happens lol)

Here we go!

——————————————————————————

🔱 Percy Jackson : Stoneward

The powers don’t rly fit (Cohesion- manipulating objects at a molecular level- & Tension- changing the stiffness of something) but none of the Radiants have water powers so 🤷‍♀️

Loyalty is pretty much the #1 belief of the Stonewards (“Though sometimes gregarious, they are never flighty. If a Stoneward is your friend, they will be there for you”) and Percy’s fatal flaw is literally loyalty so that’s that

Percy is said to be one of the best fighters seen like anywhere in a long time and Stonewards are the order that is viewed as the best soldiers of the Radiants

They like a challenge and will often take on more than they can handle (like Percy choosing to take on the Great Prophecy)

Stonewards are also good at being able to find a solution to a difficult situation with only few resources and Percy often comes up with things on the fly/ improvises

I struggled SO MUCH picking one for Percy oh my god he had similarities to like half of them (I almost made him a Bondsmith or a Windrunner but they didn’t seem right)

🦉 Annabeth Chase : Elsecaller

Powers : Transformation (changing an object into something else- aka ‘Soulcasting’) and Transportation (looking/moving between realms); Annabeth likes creating new things (architecture) so there’s a bit of a connection to the Transformation power even tho she doesn’t really have powers

Elsecallers are always trying to reach their full potential, like how Annabeth is always be seen trying to learn new things and become the best version of herself

They are regarded as the ‘wisest’ Radiant order (just like Annabeth/ the Athena cabin are viewed as the ‘wisest’ demigods)

Annabeth always has her goals in mind but also always trying to lead and encourage others (like Damasen) which is common amongst Elsecallers

🐐 Grover Underwood : Edgedancer

Powers: Abrasion (altering the friction between surfaces) & Progression (quickly growing organic objects faster than normal- including plants, skin, body tissue, etc.)

He’s able to make plants grow faster using his magic reed pipe so that would translate into Progression

Abrasion would kind of fit for him too, bc of the goat legs (he’s able to navigate more difficult terrain than humans)

Edgedancers care about the ordinary/ overlooked people of the world and spend most of their time making sure those people are protected. Grover cares deeply about nature/ animals and always tries to protect them bc humans often deem nature unimportant (nature = ordinary people in this scenario)

☠️ Nico di Angelo : Dustbringer

Powers: Division (control over destruction/ decay) and Abrasion

I don’t know if Nico has anything that really fits the Abrasion power- except for maybe the fact that his shadow travel helps him get places quickly- but Division is definitely similar to his power over death/ earthy materials

Dustbringers typically don’t get along with others (including people in their own order) because of personality differences and stereotypes about their powers like how Nico is often ostracized at first bc he scares people

☀️ Will Solace : Edgedancer

Powers: Abrasion & Progression

Will is a healer so Progression would be a good power for him to have; while he doesn’t have any powers similar to Abrasion I think it would be useful for him to have to get to injured people faster

Will cares about everyone and will do his best to heal anyone because he doesn’t want anyone to suffer, and he doesn’t just focus on the powerful demigods- he makes sure to lend his power anywhere it’s needed

Fighting is not the the Edgedancers’ main concern, preferring to protect/help the injured (especially people who aren’t necessarily warriors) and Will also is more like a wartime medic than a fighter (though he- and the Edgedancers- can fight if necessary)

They want to see and understand both sides of something, even their enemies, rather than seeing everything in black and white. Will struggled with this in TSATS but eventually realized that places like the Underworld aren’t necessarily just about death/decay, but are also about life

🌩️ Jason Grace : Windrunner

Well first of all the man flies and that’s basically what the Windrunners do lol

Their powers: Adhesion (temporarily sticking two objects together) and Gravitation (changing the direction/ strength of something’s gravitational pull)

He cares a lot about protecting innocents/ the defenseless and keeping his friends safe which is a main idea of the Windrunners

Windrunners are very militaristic in general and Jason was raised by the wolves and the Romans to be that way as well

Tempest would be his windspren & prefer a horse form cus they can do that (I think)

⚡️ Thalia Grace : Windrunner

I know she hates flying but I don’t think it’s really a requirement of the Windrunners to ‘fly’; they mostly just change the direction/amount of gravity that’s pulling on them so she could find creative ways to use Gravitation (walking on walls/ceilings which then appear to be the floor to her, etc)

The Hunters of Artemis are pretty militaristic as well (they have a specific leader & ways of doing things, similar to the Romans)

Thalia cares about innocent people/creatures and is very protective over the people she cares about (Annabeth, the Hunters, etc)

Windrunners tend to attract “big-sibling types” and Thalia is definitely a big sibling type lol

🏹 Frank Zhang : Stoneward

Powers don’t rly fit him either but personality-wise I think it’s right

Frank is really loyal to his friends (sometimes to the point of attacking/fighting people more powerful than him to save them) and will always be there for them both in battle and for personal issues

He’s pretty good at improvising and his shapeshifting allows him to come up with creative solutions (turning into an iguana to get out of the Chinese handcuffs lol)

He’s also pretty quick to come up with creative solutions without many resources (using his firewood to free Thanatos when there was no other heat source, etc.)

💎 Hazel Levesque : Lightweaver

Powers : Illumination (illusions) and Transformation

Hazel learned how to manipulate the mist from Hecate, essentially giving her illusion powers, & she can change the shape of earthly materials (can’t change the material but it’s close enough to Transformation); this is one case where I almost made her a Stoneward but Lightweaver just fit better for everything else I think

Lightweavers are the ‘artistic’ order and attract people who love art/ creativity (Hazel is an artist)

They tend to not follow rules the way other orders do, instead choosing to reach their goals by their own means (ex. Hazel choosing to go her own way and make her own choices rather than taking one of the paths Hecate gave her in HoH)

🔥 Leo Valdez : Dustbringer

Same as Nico; both of them being Dustbringers would be an example of contrasting/ clashing personalities within the order

Fire is definitely a destructive ability similar to Division (they can burn things) and without a level of control (which Dustbringers need to learn before they can advance their powers) things could get bad (and have- rip Esperanza Valdez)

Leo hasn’t really been ostracized for his personality like Dustbringers could be but his powers originally made people scared (they didn’t know he had them at the time but his cabinmates did say a that having that power was dangerous and they hoped no one would ever have it again so he took that a little personally)

🗡️ Reyna Ramirez-Arellano : Bondsmith

She’d be bonded to the Stormfather (1 of 3 beings who can gift Bondsmith abilities), allowing her to generate Stormlight and infuse other Radiants with it; this is incredibly draining and similar to Reyna’s ability to share her strength

Bondsmiths’ main focus is unity/ bringing people together and Reyna definitely spends a lot of time attempting to unite the Roman and Greek camp (after all, she did spend an entire book helping Nico and Coach Hedge get the Athena Parthenos back to CHB as a peace offering)

Bondsmith powers aren’t typically used for fighting but rather for assisting other Radiants and keep them fighting; Reyna is skilled with weapons but doesn’t use her powers to fight, only to help others keep up their strength/ motivation

🕊️ Piper McLean : Lightweaver

Piper had some personal things that she had to work out (lying to her friends in TLH, etc) before she fully embraced her power, & Lightweavers have to come to terms with truths about themselves before they can progress as people & as Radiants

There aren’t really any Radiant orders that work with manipulation magic so it’s hard to bring the Charmspeak in but the illusion magic Lightweavers have does allow them to change their appearance, so I’d imagine her using it to make herself super beautiful for espionage purposes or smth (maybe using it to transform into someone’s loved one?)

Transformation would allowed her to turn something into something else (etc. mud to food) which kind of relates to her cornucopia & how it makes food out of nothing

——————————————————————————

Hooray we made it to the end!! Sorry that this was so long, I had a looong time to think about this and wanted to get all my thoughts down

I mostly used coppermind.net and the descriptions of the Radiant orders on Sanderson’s website so some of this info may be a little inaccurate but this was just for fun lol

[fuzzkaizer]

Maestro - W-2 sound system for woodwinds

"In an age where more and more pedal companies are cropping up and more and more esoteric circuits are resurrected to broaden the total tonal spectrum, it’s surprising when new old circuits crop up. Circuits like the S. Hawk Tonal Expander and SRS EQ Exciter ended up enjoying their time in the spotlight by virtue of being undiscovered one-off devices. But it’s even rarer when one such circuit hides in plain sight, but stays obscure for one reason or another. This is the Maestro W-2.

To be clear, there’s a definite reason why the W-2 didn’t get much due, and we’ll definitely get into that. And there’s a strong possibility that you, the reader, have actually heard of this unit. But the Maestro line is well celebrated in gear circles, both from its individual units and clones of more obscure devices becoming more popular than the originals (the DOD Carcosa becoming more well-known than the FZ-1S, for example). Instances like this are becoming less and less common, but there’s at least one more unit in the Maestro line that I don’t think many folks are talking about—stay tuned for that.

However, the W-2 remained in relative secrecy for three reasons, chief among them that it’s designed to be used in conjunction with a woodwind instrument (saxophone or clarinet) and special pickup. This generally implied a couple things: One is that the unit would only be purchased by reed effects enthusiasts or studio owners. Secondly, if you lose the pickup you were well out of luck. Even though a handful of units at the time used the same pickup, later models didn’t include the strange output configuration, making them harder to find as time goes by.

The second reason for the lack of recognition is the fragility of the unit itself. Finding them in good working order is a difficult feat, and finding someone to work on them is harder still. The units are notoriously hard to repair; because they feature a handful of moving parts, finding replacements can prove difficult. This leads right into the third reason.

Plugging a guitar into the W-2 is not feasible unless you provide some outboard equipment, which isn’t included with the unit, nor did Maestro offer such a device to make this conversion. Essentially, your guitar outputs a signal that’s low, relative to the expected input level of the woodwind mic. Such a device is a simple preamp booster, which Electro-Harmonix had been offering for a handful of years, but Maestro did not provide such an offering, and made no effort to divulge this info to non-woodwindists. To make matters worse, the input jack is a eighth-inch type, so you had to chase down an adapter.

In short, there just weren’t many of these produced, and the pickups were similarly scarce. When trying to redeem the value of the W-2 with a guitar, players will wonder if they’re connecting the device up properly at all, and when no sound comes out, they’ll assume the unit is broken. And given its reputation, that’s the end of the line. It’s a perfect storm for cult status, really.

Knowing this, once everything is hooked up and dialed in, you’re treated to a rich synthy sound along with many different horn emulations. Like the USS-1 in the same line, the W-2 is multi-effect unit, but unlike that unit which sought to transform the guitar into some type of malleable synth spectre, the W-2 cleanly emulates a variety of instruments, while adding tone controls for each section and a nifty tremolo section.

Much has been made about the relative limbo of this unit, as well as the limitations and the lengths that one must traverse to simply connect an instrument. But like many other obscure devices from this era, this particular one was used by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention. Though many things are mistakenly attributed to the man’s sound, the Maestro W-2 is not one of them. Zappa’s clarinet section ran into the W-2 and through a particular patch called “Oboe D'Amore” on “Dog Breath in the Year of the Plague,” from 1969’s Uncle Meat.

While Zappa actually used clarinets to generate those tones, you can thank that simple fact for keeping the prices of the W-2 at relative bay. Had he plugged his guitar into one, the prices on these would be ten times as much and one might not have found its way into the cabinet, and the knowledge of its existence into your head."

cred: catalinbread.com/blogs/kulas-cabinet/maestro-w-2

[kyuriin-chan]

A Twist of Fate | Mr. Reed

Spin-off - Mr. Reed gets sick

Mr. Reed x OC

Words: 2.994

This story follows the intense and gripping encounter between Ana, a free-spirited and adventurous young woman, and Mr. Reed, a mysterious and enigmatic older man living in isolation.

A thrilling tale of manipulation, desire, and the dark side of love, where nothing is as it seems, and the lines between control and obsession blur.

Index: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | - Spin-off: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Days turned into weeks, and Ana found herself adapting to life in Mr. Reed’s secluded world. The storm that had once stranded her now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the steady rhythm of life within his home. The walls of his cabin, once unfamiliar, now wrapped around her like a second skin. She had never intended to stay—but something about him, about the way he looked at her as if she belonged to him, had kept her there. 

And perhaps… she wanted to belong to him. 

But then, everything changed. 

It started subtly—an unusual quietness in him, a slower pace to his movements. Mr. Reed was a man of discipline, of control, and yet Ana began noticing moments where his composure faltered. His normally sharp gaze dulled, his grip—once firm and commanding—sometimes hesitated. 

She didn’t question it at first, assuming it was exhaustion, but then, one evening, as she stood near the fireplace, she heard a muffled cough from the hallway. When she turned, she saw him bracing himself against the doorframe, his broad shoulders taut, his breaths uneven. 

“Reed?” she called, her voice lined with something she didn’t want to admit—worry. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he finally did, his voice was rough, strained. “I’m fine.” 

Liar. 

She crossed the room before he could stop her, pressing her palm against his forehead. His skin burned beneath her touch. A fever. 

“Dammit,” she muttered. “You’re burning up.” 

He smirked, though it was weaker than usual. “Can’t resist touching me, can you?” 

Ana narrowed her eyes. “Shut up and sit down.” 

To her surprise, he didn’t argue. That alone sent alarm bells ringing in her mind. Mr. Reed never let her order him around. 

As he sat, she kneeled before him, studying his face. His usual confidence, his overpowering presence—it was still there, but dimmed by illness. For the first time since she had met him, he looked… vulnerable. 

She didn’t like it. 

Ana watched Mr. Reed closely, her arms crossed as he sat slouched in his chair, his skin pale but burning with fever. His usual dominance, the quiet control that always surrounded him, was faltering. She could see it in the way he gripped the armrests, trying to steady himself, in the way his breath came unevenly. 

She hated seeing him like this. 

"You need medicine," she said firmly. 

His dark eyes snapped up to hers, sharp despite his exhaustion. "No." 

Ana exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Reed, you're burning up. I don’t know how bad this is, and I have no way to treat you here. I need to go into town." 

His grip tightened on the chair, his jaw clenching. "I said no." 

She stared at him, incredulous. "Why? Are you really that stubborn that you’d rather suffer than let me help you?" 

His gaze flickered, something unreadable crossing his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher. "Because if you go, you might not come back." 

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Ana’s breath caught slightly. 

So that was it. It wasn’t just his usual controlling nature—he was afraid. 

Afraid she’d leave. 

Ana took a slow step toward him, searching his face. His eyes held something raw, something he usually kept hidden beneath layers of control. 

"Do you really think I’d run?" she asked quietly. 

His lips parted, as if he wanted to respond, but no words came. Instead, his fingers curled into fists against the chair, a muscle twitching in his jaw. 

"You’ve been here for weeks," he finally muttered. "But now… now that you have a reason to go, to taste freedom again—" He broke off, inhaling sharply. "What if you don’t come back?" 

Ana knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees, grounding him. She had never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so unlike the man who had always held power over her. 

"I am coming back," she said, voice steady. "Because I want to." 

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to find any sign of deception. Fevered or not, he was still testing her, still trying to figure her out. 

She sighed, squeezing his knee gently. "Let me take care of you, Reed." 

His gaze softened just enough for her to see the war within him—the push and pull of his need for control and the part of him that wanted to trust her. 

Finally, with clear reluctance, he exhaled. "Come back to me, Ana." 

She swallowed against the strange warmth that bloomed in her chest at those words. 

"I will," she promised. 

And for the first time, he had to let go.

Mr. Reed sat in his chair, his body burning with fever, but his mind was elsewhere. His fingers twitched against the worn armrests, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at the door Ana had disappeared through. 

She had promised to come back. 

But promises were fragile things. 

His head ached, his vision swam, but none of that compared to the gnawing anxiety clawing at his insides. He hated this—this weakness, this loss of control. He had been so careful, so calculated, weaving Ana into his world, making sure she wanted to stay. And now, she was gone. 

What if she didn't return? 

The fever made his thoughts worse, darker. He had let her go—let her step back into the world, into freedom. Would she realize what she had been missing? Would she suddenly remember the life she had before him, the one without his presence pressing in on her? 

A sharp pang of something—fear, desperation—gripped him, and he slammed his fist onto the armrest. 

No. 

She had promised. 

She belonged to him. 

And yet, for the first time since he had taken control of her, he felt powerless. 

The minutes dragged. Every sound outside made his head snap up. He imagined her walking through that door, dropping a bag of medicine on the table and rolling her eyes at him for being so dramatic. He needed that to happen. 

Because if she didn’t come back… 

If she left him for good… 

He didn’t know what he would do.

Ana carefully set down the bag of supplies, her eyes lingering on the man sprawled across the couch. Mr. Reed, always so composed, so in control, looked completely undone. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his usually sharp features softened in restless sleep. Even like this, weakened by fever, he still carried that undeniable presence—the man who never let himself falter. 

Yet, he had. 

And he had waited for her. 

A strange warmth settled in her chest at the thought. She had expected him to be tense, pacing, demanding answers the second she walked through the door. Instead, he had exhausted himself, fighting against the very thing he couldn't control—her absence. 

Ana sighed softly, shaking her head as she moved closer. She knelt beside the couch, reaching out to press the back of her hand against his forehead. Still warm, but not as bad as before. That was a relief. 

As if sensing her touch, he stirred, his lashes fluttering before his dark eyes slowly opened. For a moment, he looked disoriented, his gaze unfocused. Then, when he saw her, something shifted in his expression. 

"You came back," he murmured, his voice rough and sleep-laced. 

Ana smirked. "That surprises you?" 

His brows furrowed slightly, as if trying to gather his usual edge, but the fever still had a grip on him. "I had… doubts." 

Her smirk softened. "Then you don't know me as well as you think." 

A slow, relieved exhale left his lips, but he quickly masked it, turning his head slightly. "Did you get what I need?" 

She rolled her eyes, standing. "Yes, Reed, I got your medicine. And before you start barking orders, I also bought ingredients for soup." 

He blinked at her. "Soup?" 

Ana arched a brow. "Yes, you know—hot liquid, good for sick, brooding men who refuse to take care of themselves?" 

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "So, you plan to nurse me back to health?" 

She scoffed. "Do I have a choice?" 

His gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering behind his fevered eyes. Then, quieter, more serious—more real—he said, "No. You don't." 

Ana hesitated for a second, something tightening in her chest. She swallowed, then huffed dramatically. "Good. Because I already started regretting leaving you alone for even a few hours." 

She turned toward the kitchen before he could say anything else, but she could still feel his gaze on her. 

And though she would never admit it, she liked knowing that he had waited for her. That he had needed her to come back.

As Ana moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring the pot, she could feel his eyes on her, heavy and intense. Every step she took, every flick of her wrist, seemed to draw his gaze. It was strange—this silent, unwavering attention.

He wasn’t saying anything, but she could feel the weight of his silence. She could almost hear the unspoken questions, the hunger in his eyes. Ana took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand, though she was acutely aware of his presence just a few feet away, on a kitchen chair, his body slumped with fatigue.

When she turned to check on him, she noticed the way he was trying to prop himself up, attempting to regain some semblance of his usual composed self. But his movements were slow, sluggish, a stark contrast to the man who was always so sure of himself.

Her gaze softened just slightly, but she quickly masked it with a firmness she knew he would recognize.

"Reed," she said, her tone sharp. "You need to stop trying to play strongman. You're sick." 

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, but he didn't speak. Instead, there was a flicker of resistance in his eyes, the same defiance that had always made him so difficult to handle.

"Don’t look at me like that," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I know what you’re thinking. You’re not fine. You’re burning up, and you need to rest." 

He opened his mouth, probably to argue, but she was already moving toward him. 

When she reached him, she placed her palm gently against his forehead, her brows furrowing as she felt the heat radiating from him. He was still too warm, far too warm for someone who had been sick for this long.

"You’re staying in bed," she ordered, her voice brokering no argument. 

His gaze shifted from her hand to her face, that familiar arrogance trying to surface, but his shoulders slumped, surrendering to the fatigue and fever that had been wearing him down. 

"Ana, I’m fine," he rasped, his voice hoarse with weakness. 

"You’re not fine," she shot back, her hands on her hips now. "So stop pretending you are." 

With a firm push, she guided him back to his bed, making sure he was lying down comfortably. He didn’t resist this time—he just let her, though the deep scowl on his face told her he wasn’t thrilled by it. 

But Ana knew him better than that. She knew when to push, and when to pull back. And right now, what he needed was for her to take charge. 

"Stay in bed," she repeated, her tone softer but no less firm. "I’ll bring you the soup once it's done. Just let me take care of you for a bit." 

She stood, watching him for a moment longer, before turning back to the kitchen.

It was almost unsettling, this sudden shift, this vulnerability in him. He’d always been the one in control—the one who never needed anyone—but now, with every glance he shot her way, it was clear that, for once, he was the one who needed. 

She liked the feeling it stirred inside of her. The feeling of power, of influence. She couldn’t deny that a small part of her loved it—loved knowing that he trusted her enough to let her take care of him, even if only for this moment. 

The soup would be ready soon enough. And when it was, she'd bring it to him—and, maybe, just maybe, she'd see if he was ready to let go of the control that had always defined him.

Ana carefully carried the steaming bowl of soup into the bedroom, her eyes scanning the room before they landed on Mr. Reed. He was propped up against the headboard, wrapped in blankets, his face still flushed with fever but noticeably calmer than before. He’d listened to her, at least for now—he was in bed, just as she had ordered, and he hadn’t tried to get up or argue.

That alone was progress. 

As she stepped closer, she could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the weariness that the fever had brought out in him. The proud man who always seemed to tower over everything, always in control, looked small and vulnerable now. His eyes met hers as she set the bowl down on the nightstand, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between them. 

He didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. His gaze was enough. 

“Here,” she said, her voice gentle, almost softer than she intended. “This should help. It’s hot and it’ll make you feel better.” 

Mr. Reed watched her, his eyes flickering with a mixture of something she couldn’t quite place—admiration, perhaps, or maybe gratitude. His lips parted, and his voice came out hoarse, thick with emotion, though he tried to mask it. "Thank you, Ana." 

There was something raw in his voice. Something vulnerable. She had never heard him sound like that—so stripped of his usual bravado. She could tell the fever had made him more open, more willing to admit that he needed her in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. 

Ana hesitated for a moment before she took the seat next to the bed, her body angled toward him as she handed him the bowl. "You don't have to thank me," she said quietly. "You're my responsibility right now. I'm here to take care of you." 

His gaze softened as he reached out to take the bowl, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand. His eyes locked onto hers, and there was an intensity in them that made her pulse quicken. “I never thought I would need anyone,” he said, almost as if to himself. “But… I’m glad you’re here.” 

Ana felt a strange pang in her chest at the admission, something she hadn’t expected to feel. There was a sincerity in his words that disarmed her, making her heart flutter unexpectedly. 

The old Mr. Reed, the one who always had control, would never have said that. 

“Maybe you should let people take care of you more often,” she replied softly, trying to lighten the mood, though her voice trembled slightly with an emotion she wasn’t ready to name. 

He managed a small, tired smile, though his eyes remained serious. “I’ve been a fool.” 

Ana couldn’t help but laugh, a quiet, soft sound that seemed to relax the tension in the room. "Maybe. But you're allowed to be one every now and then." 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the room filled with a comfortable silence. The only sound was the faint clink of the spoon as Mr. Reed began to eat the soup, and Ana’s soft breath as she watched him. 

He seemed to relax with each spoonful, the warmth of the soup doing its job, easing the tension in his muscles, the fever slowly beginning to break. Yet, even in his weakened state, he couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on her, the quiet intensity between them unmistakable. 

“Stay with me,” he said quietly, his voice low, his eyes not leaving hers. The words were simple, but they held a weight that settled heavily in the air. "Please. I need you here, Ana." 

Ana blinked, her chest tightening at the sudden rawness of his plea. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected him to ask for anything so openly. 

She looked at him, seeing the man beneath the layers of control—the man who, despite everything, was still vulnerable. And for the first time since she'd met him, she saw him not as the powerful figure she had been drawn to, but as someone who was, in this moment, human. 

“Of course,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Mr. Reed’s eyes softened, a slow exhale leaving his lips as he let his head fall back against the pillows. His fingers tightened around the bowl for a brief second before he set it down and met her gaze again. “You’re… everything to me, Ana.” 

For a moment, the world outside seemed to cease to exist, the storm raging beyond the walls of the house forgotten. The only thing that mattered was the two of them, in this space, as they navigated this unexpected, fragile connection. 

Ana didn’t know what the future held—what would come after this moment of quiet intimacy. But for now, in this room, with him in this vulnerable state, she felt something deep stirring inside of her. A desire to stay. To help him heal, not just from the fever, but from whatever else he was hiding beneath his layers of control. 

She wanted to stay right where she was, beside him, and give him exactly what he needed—her care, her attention, and maybe, just maybe, a piece of herself that he had unknowingly claimed.

Feel free to leave a heart and comment if you liked this chapter and my story 🫶🏻

I'm always happy to receive some honest feedback :)

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[neopoliitan]

TEAM RAIN: ARC 4 CH4 - BEST LAID PLANS

A WRITE UP FOR THE REST OF TEAM RAIN: CHAPTER 4

We open on a scene in Zenith. Viorel and Zelena Braith open Roderick Lincoln’s cell to reveal they have brought him the last remnants of the Lincoln Clan, now with an active aura like him. They present it as company, but note that  Gardner Braith will return to drain their aura to replenish his upon their return from hunting Otso Umber.

The clansmen are these;

Crete Reed, A warrior woman based on Britomartis.

Oak Holm, a man who was briefly seen in the back of some Arc 2 shots.

Loden Lincoln, a teenager and third or fourth cousin of Robin.

Primrose, a teenage girl with round glasses.

Fennel, the son of Kodiak Lincoln and around 7-9 years old.

Crete sees Artemis Garland lying on a cot, still comatose but out of the pod she was previously in implying she’s gotten a little stronger. Crete runs to her side.

Sterling Braith enters and tells her not to get attached, ordering the Talos robots to restrain the clansmen. Viorel cautions that there’s no time for his vendetta, to which Sterling responds he’s making time. He advances on Roderick, telling him “Your sister cut my arm off, so it’s lucky for me that you’re here.” Before Roderick can reply, Sterling socks him in the face with one of his new prosthetic arms.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do to you, but if it doesn’t kill you… You’re damn well gonna wish it did.”

Zelena looks slightly shaken and follows Viorel out of the room. Viorel coldly comments that now “the terminal” is fixed, Roderick has outlived his use and this is the least he deserves. Zelena asks if “the terminal” is really going to change anything, to which Viorel grows frustrated and tells her not to have second thoughts - they’ve come this far already; she “isn’t there to think”, and that Kamala will show her no more mercy than “they” did if she backs out.

Lilli Lincoln wakes up in her bed, unable to sleep. She heads downstairs to the kitchen for some water and comes across Petra Redwood. Petra mentions the 7-day time limit Kamala Braith issued Team RAIN, which Lilli didn’t know about. Her expression unreadable, she heads upstairs.

She grabs her labrys.

We cut to Robin asleep in her room. Lilli kicks the door open and slings her buzzsaw-shield at Robin.

ROBIN: What are you doing?! What the hell is this about?!

LILLI: E V E R Y T H I N G ! I’m sick of you, and I’m sick of your stupid face! You always get what you want! Even after coming home and getting dad KILLED!

Lilli swings again.

LILLI: Pitch was the closest thing I had to a friend, and now he’s GONE! I was the LAST ONE to be told about Marina even though I'm FAMILY! You told everyone EXCEPT ME about Mom and Roderick being ALIVE! And I just found out that even though you only have seven days to save them, you go and SLEEP THROUGH ONE--!

Robin blocks one of Lilli’s attacks, and the two are held in stalemate.

ROBIN: LILLI-! What the hell is going on? Why are you always trying to fight me--!?

LILLI: BECAUSE IT’S THE ONLY TIME YOU EVER NOTICE I’M THERE!

They relax slightly at this moment of honesty. Lilli smiles weakly.

LILLI: You were always the favorite, even after you got sent away from home. Mom and Dad never shut up about you. “Why can’t you be more like your sister? Why can’t you be more like Robin?” They would’ve switched us without a second thought if it meant getting Robin back. 

Lilli relaxes, her arms hanging limp.

LILLI: It’s not like I wanna be mean. It’s just that people only notice me when they’re angry at me.  ...They’d just be happier if I was gone, huh?

We see flashbacks to:

Roderick scolding Lilli (pg297)

Artemis Scolding Lilli (pg828)

Marina [then Tobin] scolding Lilli (pg331)

Robin shoving Lilli (pg828)

ROBIN: I should’ve seen the signs. No one wishes you were gone.

LILLI: Don’t. Don’t lie to me like that.

ROBIN: I’m not.

We see a Flashback to Robin saying “there’s nothing I’d rather be than kind” in Arc 3 Ch9 (pg. 746)

ROBIN: We weren’t there for you after what happened back home, and I didn’t even think twice about it. ...But I wanna try to be there for you now, if you’ll let me. Lilli, I’m sorry.

Lilli begins to sob, and Robin reaches out to embrace her sister. Her sister. Who she treated like an enemy for years. She embraces her as Lilli apologizes too, and we see Lilli’s aura activate in a moment of emotional height.

–

Irving, Nyssa, Jin, the Hawthornes, Team ZNON, and Peach’s Team disembark from Raleigh Radcliff’s ship as it touches down in the Tsubaki District.

Farran Hawthorne commends Irving’s bravery in showing mercy to Team ZNON and defeating the rat king, telling him he’s proud. Irving turns around and says he’s not proud of his father for closing ZNON’s school and turning them against him, making them easy to manipulate. He tells his father to use his political power to set them up in a school in Mistral so that the world doesn’t have more Violas to deal with.

Robin and Akane reunite with Irving and Nyssa. Robin says she’s glad Irving’s family made it out safe unlike hers, but Irving cuts her off and tells her it wasn’t her fault - it was bad luck they chose the Lincolns.

Raleigh approaches Team RAIN and tells them they have some explaining to do.

–

We cut to Jin and Peach. Peach reveals she was adopted by a couple who she refers to as “her dad” (Bjorn Vermell) and her “science dad” (Konstantan Vermell). They wanted to get her out of the orphanage after seeing how malnourished she was, and her “science dad” later engineered her prosthetic legs.

Peach asks if the orphanage is still there. Jin tells her the Sisterhood marched in and made sure the kids were safe, while the adults “didn’t hurt anyone else.” She then asks if Peach held the final argument before they were separated against her, and Peach admits she doesn’t even really remember it. Once she knew her parents were good people, she asked Konstantan to put out feelers to find Jin, but by then it was too late. 

Jin looks at the old photo of them both, but Peach brushes it away. She tells her that she’s here now, and places Jin’s hand on her heart. The two rest their foreheads against each other.

–

40 years ago.

We see Raleigh Radcliff being congratulated on his victory in the 21st Biennial Vytal Festival.

Briefly we cut away to a young Otso Umber in a medical ward, his head bandaged - his grip tightens on the sheets of his hospital bed in envy as he sees Raleigh reaping the glory.

It’s revealed we’re watching Raleigh’s victory in the present day as a presentation on 58-year-old Raleigh’s scroll. Robin tells him they’re happy to have him along now they’ve seen his skills.

Raleigh reveals that Otso cut off his left leg from below the knee during one of their fights, and that he has a prosthetic - he has his own motives for fighting Otso. Irving questions what originally started their feud, and Raleigh tells him that he took Otso’s place in the tournament finale, after Otso couldn’t compete due to a head injury - and that Otso ‘didn’t deserve the win anyway’.

Raleigh asks what they know about the Braiths; they’re a family of good fighters, proficient with Aura and fusing Grimm and humans. When asked about their weaknesses, Akane recalls that she made Zelena falter when the latter stole her truth semblance.

Akane and Irving surmise that their tech suggests Atlas. Robin recalls Roderick telling her that the Braiths’ base was called Zenith, but Raleigh doesn’t know it and Akane can’t find any info on it on cached offline CCT information on her scroll.

Robin quickly recalls the Crazy Bunch who worked under Sterling and Zelena, and how they managed to apprehend one of them. Raleigh says interrogating him is worth a shot, and takes Akane with him to verify the man’s answers.

–

Nyssa visits home and shares closure over Pitch with her mother, Maera. Murasaki drops in, assuring them that the Sisterhood is in the capable care of Team BRUT. When questioned on how trustworthy BRUT are, Murasaki replies that she is trying to steer them right and give them a purpose, the same way the previous Sisterhood leader did for her.

Murasaki reveals that after she got her head together regarding Pitch, she contacted Maera and the two talked it over. Both of them shared relationships with Pitch, but she won’t go into detail just yet. She regrets not dealing with him the moment she laid eyes on him in the Sisterhood cave.

–

Robin and Lilli are attempting to bond. Robin called Lilli downstairs to ask her if she wants to attend Combat School in Mistral while she and her team venture to Atlas - unless Lilli wants to argue and come with them. Lilli proclaims she’s not an idiot, but seems unconvinced that Elysium Academy will take her. Robin reassures her by complimenting her fighting ability.

Marina interrupts by sticking her head through the wall behind them - revealing that her semblance does not only consist of invisibility, but intangibility. She notes that Robin and Lilli are getting along better, but the same can’t be said for Robin and Marron.

Robin argues that she’s not budging - she won’t get Marron mixed up in her mess again. Marron wants to go to Atlas, but Robin doesn’t - so do they just break up?

Lilli interjects by telling her to compromise, to find a solution that works for both of them. After being pestered by the other two siblings, Robin gets up and agrees to talk it over. When she leaves, Marina tries to banter with Lilli, but the youngest Lincoln sister halts her, unfolds a sheet of paper and reads:

"Please do not attempt to make light conversation or banter with me. You are still complicit in my neglect for your own reasons, and are, therefore, an absolute carbuncle. I forbid you from attempting to take a shortcut by hijacking the effort Robin has made."

Marina is stumped, then admits that’s a fair point.

–

Marron is sitting on the porch of the Tsubaki District house. Robin sits down next to her.

After a moment, Robin asks if Marron knows why she doesn’t want her to come to Zenith, which Marron confirms. Robin tells her that she doesn’t want her to get hurt, which Marron spins back on her - she isn’t going to wait around like a sailor’s wife hoping that Robin might come back, that she doesn’t need Robin’s protection.

Robin begins to observe that they’re at an impasse, but Marron interrupts.

“I need you to show me some trust -- some faith in my judgment. Some faith that I know what to do if things go to hell. I need you to accept that you're not the only one who knows what they're doing. And I need you to understand that my decisions aren’t yours to make.”

Robin takes this in.

She apologises for coddling Marron, and observes that Marron knew how to break Sterling and when to call for her help. She admits that between her father’s death and her treatment of Nyssa and Lilli, her own judgment hasn’t been the best.

She trusts Marron to know her limits and make the right calls.

The two hold hands and stay there on the porch for a while. Slowly, they begin to make small talk about what they’ll do once this is all over.

[thebibliomancer]

Universe X #1

Which, uh, it’s good that the X is huge and placed behind Universe. When the title is in all caps and with poor spacing it reads as UNIVERSEX.

Which is probably not happening. Universex only happens when Eternity and Kismet get some quiet time together.

Anyway, we have a cover giant cosmic dead Mar-Vell, living child Mar-Vell with Cap’s shield, the circus-tier new X-Men, Wyatt Wingfoot Redwing, gorilla Hulk and child Banner, Namor the Half-Human Torch, May Parker Venom with the eye-watering costume, and Vision maybe? Are any of them relevant to this issue? Or do they just have to go somewhere on the big picture all the covers make? Yes.

Last times in Universe X: Mar-Vell was reborn as baby and between him and his dead self still in the afterlife, he has Big Plans. Part of which involved resurrecting Invisible Woman from Mr Fantastic’s arm.

Also, there’s something going on with the multiverse that Aaron Stack, Machine Watchman, has to look into. And saving Earth from the Celestials last series has just caused severe climate disruptions as the planet has tilted weird on its axis.

Child Mar-Vell has gone from being raised in secret to Atlantis, moved to Latveria to help resurrect the Invisible Woman, and is now in a frozen New York with Captain America to start off an epic fetch quest.

Cap is here because he really needs a new purpose. Democracy is basically dead. America has a marshal instead of a President and the climate change and food shortages mean that order has sort of broken down. Cap is here because he’s an old soldier and Mar-Vell has promised to end war as a concept.

Which, hmm, might be an ominous thing to declare. Especially since he also declared he was going to save everyone, whether they liked it or not. But let’s see where he’s going with this.

Where he’s going with this is an old woman wrapped in a familiar blue blanket being mugged by some bandits that think they need the warmth more.

And then the blanket eats them. Because the blanket is Cloak’s cloak and the old woman is Dagger.

Cap saves one of the dinguses but the rest get eaten.

Mar-Vell convinces Dagger to give him the cloak by telling her that Cloak is fine in the afterlife and is talking her up. Dagger then turns into a being of pure light and fucks off.

I have so many questions and Universe X will either never answer them or belabor the answers.

I do have to say that Mar-Vell looks pretty rad in such an oversized Cloak cloak.

On Mar-Vell’s scavenger hunt list, he also has the Orb of Agamotto but unfortunately it's missing. And Marv doesn’t want to deal with that right now. But they still have to go the Sanctum Sanctorum to borrowsteal some tomes of Strange’s.

Where the two find: no tomes, no Wong watching Strange’s body, no Strange, and just a ton of Mindless Ones. Also, a depersoned Loki.

So a little explanation. Earth X revealed that the Asgardians were a tier 3 empowered people, some alien race that also had their genetics manipulated by the Celestials. They had evolved to the point where they were incredibly powerful reality warpers but also incredibly susceptible to outside perception. Loki was the evil trickster Loki because someone expects there needs to be a Loki and he should be an evil trickster because the stories say so.

This Loki has stripped himself of almost every bit of his former identity. He doesn’t want to be trapped in preconceptions, that’s why he’s glad Cap didn’t recognize him. And presumably why he regresses a little when Cap stresses what a villain Loki is.

So this is neat follow-up to the revelation last series. And it also gives Cap and Marv their next destination. The magic books they’re looking for were hidden by formerly Captain now King Britain.

In another plot thread, Latveria.

Reed is feeling pretty good with his wife not dead anymore. He shaved off his sorrow beard and changed out of his sorrow Doom armor.

And then Pope Immortus comes calling.

I have no idea why he’s a pope now.

But he’s here to make the case that Reed should NOT try to cure the mass terrigenesis mutation of humanity.

As far as Immortus is concerned, humanity’s destiny is to spread throughout the stars. Reed protests that no, that’s dumb and bad. For one, with Earth undergoing a climate crisis, humanity needs to work together to resolve it and the increased aggression of the inhumaned humans makes that kind of cooperation impossible. Which leads to point 2: an aggressive empowered Earth exodus would be conquest. Inhumanity would spread throughout space and subjugate all other peoples. Making some sort of Universe X, I guess, but nobody title drops. Cowards.

Pope Immortus darkly warns Reed that with his cooperation or not the Human Torches will be extinguished within a year.

I have almost no idea why Immortus is in this story, taking this role. Almost no idea.

Busiek’s Avengers Forever came out the same year as Earth X and had as a big plot point that Immortus was shepherding the 616 timeline to a future where humans dominate all of space, thanks to a proliferation of superpowers. I’m guessing Earth X writer Krueger was a fan and wanted to weave that into what he was doing.

In another other plot thread, Peter Parker is a cop now.

You hates to see it.

He’s also over his depression from Earth X so his personality has fully returned to jokey Peter.

I don’t know how to feel about it. It is character development but it’s development back to quo, making it feel unlikely that Peter will have any more development in this. But he’s going to get an entire tie-in focus issue so I hope there’s something for him.

Anyway, one of the plot points from Earth X was that Black Bolt set off the Terrigen bomb to turn all of humanity into Inhumans so the Attilan Inhumans could live amongst them without getting the treatment mutants get.

That was a plot point but this is the first we see of some of those Inhumans in plain sight. And they are dicks. They’re trying to raid the limited food supplies in New York on the basis that they’re original Inhumans and therefore deserve it more.

Cop Peter tries to stop them but what really resolves the situation is Spiders-Man giving the unruly Inhumans a vision of bountiful food and luring them off to join Immortus’ flock.

Finally, Aaron Stack. He has a long conversation with Uatu in the issue’s appendix. And wow, it is good to have this incredibly toxic relationship happening again. Uatu is such a dick! But it’s more interesting to read than the new narrator duo of Nighthawk and Gargoyle. And having usurped Uatu already, Aaron is only taking the abuse because Uatu has information he wants.

Uatu tells Aaron that his devices showed Franklin!Galactus Franklin’s Days of Future Past death because they were responding to Aaron’s need for an answer to satisfy Galactus and showed him another universe.

Which leads Aaron to another question. Why is Nighthawk having visions of Aaron digging up under the Kree ruins on the Moon? And for that question, Uatu is more cagey and insulting about what might be found there.

So Universe X is throwing a lot of puzzle pieces on the table and right now it’s hard to see what single picture it will come together to form.

Mar-Vell’s plans in the afterlife and his scavenger hunt in life. The multiverse. Pope Immortus. The threat of Inhumanity spreading to the stars. Earth still being doomed. A lot.

[mask131]

Simple facts about Ancient Egypt (2)

Last time, we talked about generalities - history, geography, pharaohs, government... Today, let’s look at some of the main social classes and jobs in Ancient Egypt!

As I said before - warning, these are oversimplified and general facts for a short and easy introduction and comprehension to Ancient Egypt. These are not in-depths studies or analysis, and I might have gotten things wrong, so beware!

SCRIBES

# Scribes, from the Latin “scribere” (to write) were public writers: they were tasked with redacting administrative documents, with the job of accountants of the State, but they were also tasked with writing things such as letters, poems or fictional tales. The job of a scribe went from father to son, and every future scribe had to undergo a very strict and difficult apprenticeship. To be a scribe was a very envied position, for it was a privilege given only to boys – and to the wealthiest of boys! The material of the scribe was quite simple, all contained in a wooden case: there was just a reed pen, and two blocks of ink, one red and one black – to write, the scribe plunged the tip of his reed pen into water, and then rubbed it against either the black or red ink-block.

# Because ink was we know it today didn’t exist back then in Egypt – their “ink” was actually blocks of compact powder. Black ink was created with soot or crushed coal, whereas red ink was created with ochre. Similarly, the Ancient Egyptians did not write on paper but on papyrus – a type of material that shared its name with the type of Nile-reed it was created from. (Fun fact, the name “paper” does come from “papyrus”). Creating papyrus was done by cutting and peeling the papyrus-reed into thin slices, that were then gorged with water, placed in crosses layered on top of each other, and then brutally hit with a hammer until it became one uniformed page (the sap of the reed and the water fused together to form a sort of “glue” holding the stripes together). Finally, the page was thinned down, and smoothed with wooden items.

# Papyrus was however very costly. So, to not lose all of one’s money, Ancient Egyptians wrote for every day needs on pottery fragments or wooden planks covered in plaster. Pupils in schools for example wrote on broken pieces of bowls or vases. The papyrus, so precious, was kept exclusively for law texts and religious texts. To create 5 scrolls of papyrus, of roughly 10 meters each, a man had to work for a whole year!

# Most scribes worked for the government: one of their job was to do note down the state and quantity of the harvests each year before calculating the taxes based on the amount of harvest. They were also the accountants of the state, as well as the ones charged with writing down the laws and the orders of ministers. Other scribes rather worked for temples, where they engraved magical incantations on amulets ; and a third group acted as clerks in tribunals.

# Learning to become a scribe might look easy, since what you need to do was just copy texts all day long… But in truth it was a very hard thing! Our alphabet only has two dozen letters or so – the Egyptian scribes had to learn thousands of different signs to write down the texts, and they had to learn how to write them on every material possible. If you wanted to be a scribe, you had to go a “scribe school” – pupils usually went there are the age of ten, and left at fifteen. After these five years of studies, the scribes had to undergo an internship of five years in either the administration, in a temple or with a notary. After this internship, would-be-scribes had a final exam – and it was only then they could become certified and testified scribes, at twenty years old. Scribe school was notably a very harsh and unpleasant place – a common saying among scribe teachers was “Students have ears in the back, and these ears only listen when you hit them”. Yes, corporal punishment was a standard method of teaching in these schools – if students didn’t pay attention, spoke with each other instead of copying their texts, or wrote a hieroglyph wrong, they were immediately beaten up with a stick. In fact, to prevent the students of scribe schools from leaving unsupervised, the teachers attached to their ankles wooden blocks! Yes, just like the cartoon prisoner with the iron ball around their ankle!

# All scientists were scribes, but not all scribes were scientists (or scholars). You see, to become a scientist or a scholar you had to learn how to write and read – and to do that, you needed to become a scribe. But many scribes stopped there and did not pursue their studies further – only some decided to take on a specific field of expertise (medicine, architecture, astronomy) and thus became more than just “regular” scribes.

# Scribes wrote their text in a very specific way. They sat cross-legged on the ground, placed the papyrus they wrote on their loincloth – that was pushed by their knee very strongly on each side, so it would be a flat surface to write onto. Scribes also wrote with their pen standing up, very still – so that they wouldn’t do any stain or mess up a line, because their ink took a very long time to dry.

# Scribes were the object of admiration, but also jealousy, from the everyday ordinary Egyptian man, because scribes were very well paid AND were exempt of taxes. Plus, their work was a non-manual one, unlike the other Egyptian men who were peasants or craftsmen. This was notably why in Egyptian art scribes are always depicted with a potbelly or fat rolls – thanks to their wealth and effortless job that demanded them to sit around all day, they were the only inhabitants of Ancient Egypt who could easily become fat. In return, the scribes themselves were very proud of their position and status – and this often made them quite arrogant, according to the ancient texts. One of the favorite entertainments of the scribes was to mock other jobs or workforces of Egypt by telling funny stories or jokes about them.

PRIESTS

# Do not get things wrong: in Egyptian religion, only the pharaoh can act as an intermediary between the gods and men – he is the true voice and right hand of the gods. But then, you’ll ask, why are there priests? Well it is simply because the pharaoh is one human man, and cannot be everywhere in the country – so the pharaoh delegates his powers to the priests, who act in his name. This is something important to remember: Ancient Egypt was a form of theocracy, and the priests did not get their power from the gods but from the pharaoh. Though the priests’ role WAS to serve the gods. Ancient Egyptians and Ancient Egyptian gods had a deal worked out: the priests would tend to their need, and take care of them, through various festive celebrations and everyday rituals, and in exchanged from being tended to, the gods ensured the protection and wellness of the city/region/country they were worshiped in. As easy as that. But this explains why for example priests were not depicted on murals or paintings of temples: priests were not perceived as worthy of being depicted alongside the gods, because in the Egyptian mindset, priests are just servants – or rather some sort of religious bureaucrats. Only the pharaoh, the one and true emissary of the god, and himself equal to the gods, could be painted on the walls of temples.

# The role of priests, just like the one of scribe, usually was passed from father to son. Usually priests began their apprenticeship as children, studying at the school and at the library of the temple alongside scribes. Given being a priest was a very prestigious function (again, quite like scribes), some people rather could buy a priest job with a heavy sum of money, or it could be given by the pharaoh himself as a reward, to those that served him well and faithfully.

# In every great temple and religious center of Egypt there was, at the top of the priestly hierarchy, a great priest, or “first prophet”, named directly and personally by the pharaoh. This great priest held authority over all of the other priests, and also played a political role in the city he was in charge of. Below him came the “divine fathers”, important priests that took care of the rituals and walked in front of their god’s statue during processions. Finally, at the bottom of the hierarchy, there were the “purified ones”, whose job was to carry the god’s statue during procession, to clean up the temple every day, and to do all the chores. Speaking of cleanliness, being pure was a very big deal for Ancient Egyptian priests – they usually took four baths a day in the lake’s temple, or rather two baths during the day and two baths during the night. It was a way for them to stay “pure”.

# Priests had a LOT of work and so, to be able to rest and not die of exhaustion, there were “teams” of priests formed in temples. Each team was to work in the temple during one month while the other went to live into town, and after one month a new team went in. In smallest temple there were only two teams, each doing half of the year, but in the biggest temple, there could be up to four priest teams. And since the priests were to live in the town quite regularly, and couldn’t possibly live alone (for Egyptians a man couldn’t just live all on his own, it was not a good or healthy lifestyle), the priests were allowed and even encouraged to marry, so that when leaving the temple they could have a wife and children to return to – children that in turn would become priests once their father grew too old.

PEASANTS

# Peasants formed the bulk of the Egyptian population, and they were a key part in the wealth of the nation: without them and their constant toil, Egypt couldn’t have existed. But despite their immense utility, priests were very poor and not respected, forming the lower rank of the social hierarchy. Most of them acted like serfs, in service of great landowners, temples, or the ministers of the pharaoh. The comparison to serfs is quite relevant as, just like serfs, Egyptian peasants did not own their lands, and they could be sold just alongside the land they were dependent.

# The fields of the peasants were actually really small, roughly the size of a vegetable garden today. They were delimited by big and heavy rocks – every year, bureaucrats of the realm checked after each flood is these rocks hadn’t been move. The peasants also had to swear an oath to never move secretly the stones to augment their field – if they were caught doing that and lying about it, they had their two ears cut off!

# Scribes went three times a year into every peasant’s home. A first time to measure their field, a second time once the cereals ha d grown – to evaluate the harvest and calculate future taxes based on this hypothetical harvest – and a third time during the harvesting, to collect the taxes. Of course, on this third visit, scribes were escorted by armed soldiers. If a peasant refused to pay the taxes, he was beaten up, and/or his house and tools were taken away from him – sometimes he was even thrown into prison. According to some tales, the most extreme cases of punishment had peasants that did not pay their taxes being beaten up, tied with a rope, and thrown at the bottom of a well in front of his wife and children – who in turn were imprisoned in his place! Better pay the taxes the, you say? Well, the problem was that the taxes were calculated during January, two to three months before the actual harvest. If any sort of disaster happened, and they lost their harvest, they still had to pay the taxes as if they had a full harvest…

# No need to tell you that the peasants’ worst enemy (outside of the locust) was the hippopotamus! Hippopotami were considered a true disaster, since in a single night, a hungry hippo could eat up to sixty kilos of plants (132 pounds). If a small group of hippos came by a field in the night, in the morning nothing was left… So peasants hunted and killed hippos without pity or mercy.

CRAFTSMEN

# Craftsmen were the middle-class of Egypt, coming below the scribes and bureaucrats, but above peasants. Craftsmen worked numerous types of material: stone, wood, iron, precious metals (such as gold), leather, textiles and glass. Craftsmen never worked alone – they were always forming groups and teams, part of workshops financed by the government, or by a temple, or by a rich family. Each workshop gathered various specialists – a carpenter, a painter, a smith, a jeweler, a stone-sculptor…

# The quality of a furniture could be identified by the type of wood used: good quality furniture was done by sculpting cedar, a tree that was important from the Lebanon. High quality furniture was also often decorated with ivory or ebony. Lower quality furniture however, was usually sculpted in sycamore trees or palm trees – a wood so friable they were often covered in plaster to just be able to stand up and hold any kind of weight!

# The Egyptians discovered how to make class towards 1500 BCE. They created it with sand, salt, and they always colored their glass with metallic pigments – an Egyptian would have never created a transparent piece of glass. Egyptians loved colors, and so their glass work was always red, blue or yellow.

# Potters were considered to be “different” from other craftsmen. More specifically they were thought to practice a very “common” craft. Scribes liked to mock them by describing them as dirty, and always covered in mud. Potters did not work in the royally-sponsored workshops I described above – they rather worked all alone, for their own. They built most of everyday objects: vases, plates, cups, jars… Potters usually worked with the clay of the Nile, sculpted by hand (at first, then the potter’s wheel was invented), and then left to dry up in the sun before being “cooked” in an oven. Their other technique was to create a material by mixing sand with water, salt, ashes and lime – this substance was then placed inside molds, and placed in an ove.

# Pearls in Ancient Egypt are a fascinating thing, because Egyptians did not know about the existence of oysters – or if they did, they couldn’t access any of them. So, Egyptians created their own pearls, by polishing stones so much they were reduced to very small spheres, that were then pierced to be placed onto necklaces.

# All the gems and precious stones used by Egyptians (the red carnelian, the purple amethyst, the turquoise and the blue agate – plus gold of course) were extracted from mines located in the desert, and in which criminals and law-breakers were sent to work (because working in these mines often killed the miners). The favorite gem of the Egyptians, the lapis-lazuli, was rather important from where today’s Afghanistan is located. However, faience/earthenware was very common among Egyptians precisely because with its blue-green color it could look like emeralds or turquoises, while being much MUCH less costly. This is why there were a lot of faience jewels in Ancient Egypt – they were basically for those who wanted to look good without having the means to.

[harperfrogspad]

Partners: Chapter 8: Occupational Hazard

Kay had just told the Prior that he thought he could find Lou and Mark with his Psi.

The Prior wasted no time. “Hector, get you men,” Baretti disappeared immediately. “Commander, get yours as well, and send for my medical team.”

“Right away, Monsieur Prior!” The man ran off to carry out the order.

Martin put his hand on Kay’s should, “Let’s go get them back.”

The two of them went outside where they waited for Baretti and his men. Once Hector and his men were there Kay led the group towards the Perimeter, and then along it. The group set a quick pace along side the scorched earth that separated them from the wild, outside world. At last Kay stopped and waited for the rest of the group to catch up to him.

Once the Prior stood next to him, Kay spoke. “That way,” he pointed across the Perimeter and into the frost beyond. Kay took a step forward, but was immediately grabbed by the local commander.

“Are you crazy?” He said, pulling Kay back. “You can’t go in there!”

“We have been across the Perimeter before, Commander,” the Prior said calmly.

“No, sir, I understand, but look,” he pointed above the trees where there was a yellow haze in the air. “That is pollen, breathing it in will kill you.”

The group stared at deadly pollen in the air.

“Kay?” Martin called. “Can you still feel her?”

“Yes, sir, just beyond the trees,” Kay’s heart was pounding, they were so close, they had to find a way.

“How close can we get before we are in danger?” Martin asked.

“I’m no expert, Monsieur Prior,” the commander said. “The only place I can guarantee your safety, sir, is on this side of the Perimeter.”

Kay was trying to think of how he could talk the Prior into letting him go by himself, when he felt something else.

“Hostile incoming!” He called out, pulling his Ultimatum from its holster, and stepping in front of Martin.

Hector and his men also closed in around the Prior and raised their weapons. They all pointed their guns toward the spot where Stone was pointing his.

From that spot a man stumbled out of the woods and fell onto his knees; he didn’t appear to have a weapon. Though the tree line was probably 50 meters from them, so it was hard to be sure.

“Hold fire,” Baretti said.

The man started to raise his hand slowly. Just then hooded figure burst out of the trees. Kay recognized them immediately, he lowered his weapon slightly. The new figure ran out in front of the man on his knees, held up a hand, threw off their hood, and yelled.

“Don’t shoot!” A long blonde braid whipped out behind her. Dried tracks of bloody tears streaked down her face, her clothes seemed to be tinged with yellow.

“Hold your fire!” The Prior yelled.

There stood Lou Reed, Kay’s heart leapt for joy when he saw her. Her eyes lingered on him for a brief second before she turned and disappeared back into the woods, leaving the man on his knees where he was. After a few tense breaths two figures could be seen emerging from the woods. Lou and a figure in dark Inquisitor clothing, Mark Joncière. His arm was over Lou’s shoulder and he was limping. Lou’s hand was outstretched to the man on the ground. She pushed her hand forward and the man fell forward, then stood up and started walking. The group of three moved slowly towards the safe side of the Perimeter. Once they were close enough to be easily heard the trio stopped.

Kay was staring at Lou, she looked like hell. Her clothes were not only covered in the deadly yellow pollen, but also blood. Her braided hair was messy, there was a lot of dried blood in tracks from her eyes. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked exhausted. Her right hand was still outstretched in a fist to the man in front of them as if holding him by an invisible leash.

“It’s not safe for us to come any closer yet,” Mark said, his clothes were tinged in yellow just like Lou’s. His right pant leg had a lot blood on it. “We are going need to be thoroughly disinfected first.”

“A medical team is on the way,” Martin said stepping out from his thick circle of guards slightly. “And the disinfection crew. And who is this gentleman with you?”

“A fanatic and a traitor,” Joncière answered. “He’s been trying to kill us since last night, but he has valuable information we need.”

“I see,” Martin said. Much quieter he told his guards not to shoot the prisoner unless it was to save Mark or Lou’s lives. “The Commander informed me that there were three locals missing.”

Mark made a face. “The young Initiate kill the other fanatic, to protect Reed and myself.”

“Where is he?” The commander asked.

Mark shot Lou a worried look. “Dead, I’m afraid. This one killed him.” He pointed at their prisoner.

Kay felt Lou’s emotions flare, grief, anger, horror, and guilt. She was avoiding looking at anyone, her face stoic.

“Stupid, church pet deserved it,” the prisoner said.

Lou twisted her fist in the air and the prisoner screamed in pain. It had become clear to Kay that there was a foreign object in the prisoner’s body somewhere and that’s how Lou has been keeping him under control. The prisoner fell to his knees and writhed in pain.

“Lou, stop,” Martin said to her. She didn’t stop, it was like she didn’t even hear the Prior’s voice.

“Easy Reed,” Mark said calmly, “we don’t want to stoop to their level now.”

Lou turned her hand and the prisoner fell silent, his breathing rough.

“Filthy church whore!” He spat at her.

“Mmhmm, just keep saying it,” Lou answered, her voice devoid of any emotion. “I’m sure one of these times it will actually upset me.”

Mark chuckled, “always with that mouth, Reed.”

Lou shrugged at Mark. She looked even more pale.

“Is this man one of the ones you were looking for?” Martin asked Mark, trying to not be too obvious when his question.

“Yes, sir, he is,” Mark said, a slight gleam in his eyes.

“Excellent,” Martin said.

Lou swayed next to Joncière. “Mark…” her voice was weak, her breathing rough.

“Reed?” Mark looked at her with concern. “Do you have anymore pens on you?”

Lou shook her head, breathing fast, shallow breaths. “We used them all already.”

“Shit,” Mark swore. “Where’s that medical team?”

“Hector?” Martin said.

“On it,” Hector grabbed his phone and started making a call.

“What is it, Mark?” The Prior asked as Lou’s breathing was even rougher.

“Anaphylactic shock,” Mark told him. “She breathed in the pollen. We’ve been giving her Epinephrine, but we’re out.”

“Lou!” Kay called, starting to move towards her.

The Prior himself grabbed Kay’s arm. “You can’t go out there, we can’t risk you too.”

Kay knew he was right, but what did Martin expect him to do, stand here and watch her die?

“Mark…” Lou’s voice was weaker and her breathing even more shallow.

“Easy, Reed,” Mark was trying to keep her on her feet.

“Deal with him,” she pointed at the prisoner. She was getting weaker by the second, she wasn’t going to be able to keep him under control much longer.

Joncière moved over to the prisoner, who was still on his knees, and grabbed him.

Lou was struggling to breathe and was slowly sinking to the ground unable to stay on her feet. Then she laid down, gasping for breath, and the telekinetic grip she’d had on the prisoner slipped.

The prisoner immediately began struggling with Mark, trying to throw off the Inquisitor. They were fairly evenly matched, keeping their fight a stalemate.

Just then the medical and disinfection teams came running onto the scene.

The prior quickly explained what was needed. Lou laid on the ground, still fighting to breath when one of the healers threw a epipen at her, it didn’t quite reach her. She reached her hand out tried to use her Psi to pull it closer. Just then the prisoner got a lucky hit on Mark, knocking him to the ground and then started to choke him. Lou, hearing the scuffle, turned her head towards the two fighting men and reached out. Her fingers seemed to twitch as she turned her hand slightly back and forth. Then she found her target, grabbed, and pulled her fist, once, twice, three times. The prisoner screamed and fell off of Mark, who jumped on top of him, put his good knee into the prisoner’s bloody shoulder.

“Reed!” Joncière yelled at her. She was still struggling to breathe.

She released her fist, pulled the epipen to her hand with telekinesis, ripped the lid off with her teeth, set the highest dose, and stabbed it into her leg pushing the button. Then her hand fell to the ground, her breathing quieted, her body went limp, her eyes closed.

“No,” Kay tried to pull away from Martin to get to her, Hector grabbed Kay’s other arm.

“Easy, now. Give her a moment.” Martin said. “And look behind us.”

Kay looked and saw that the medical and disinfectant teams were suiting up in hazmat suits and preparing a disinfecting station. Kay looked back to where his partner, his girlfriend, the love of his life, who laid on the ground looking totally lifeless. He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

Mark was still dealing with the prisoner who wouldn’t stop struggling with him. “Damnit, Reed, don’t you…” he dragged the prisoner with him, moving closer to Lou. “Fucking die on me!” he managed to kick Lou’s foot.

Lou took a sudden, sharp breath, and started gasping. Then she started coughing uncontrollably, rolled onto her side, and coughed even harder. As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Lou rolled over onto her back again. She was still breathing heavily, but it was no longer so desperately.

Kay finally relaxed, but Hector and Martin did not release their hold on him.

“Reed!” Joncière yelled at her. “Make yourself useful, will you?!”

Lou slowly reached out with her hand, once again tried to find the object in the prisoner, it didn’t take her long. The prisoner screamed when she found and twisted it. Mark released him, came over to Lou and helped her sit up.

“Mark,” Lou said, still needed to take big breaths. “I am… never… coming… to… the… Perimeter with you… again.”

Mark chuckled. “You are going to make take Stone next time?”

Lou shook her head. “Get your own empath,” she said, then pointed at Kay. “That one’s mine.”

Kay felt a swelling of happy emotions at her declaration.

Mark chuckled again. “Possessive, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lou said. “I am.”

“Alright,” Mark said standing up. “On your feet, Initiate.”

Mark helped Lou to her feet and she lost some he of her grip on the prisoner, so she had to grasp the object again.

“Dirty whore!” The prisoner yelled.

“Hmm,” Lou looked thoughtful. “Nope, still didn’t bother me.”

“He should be more concerned about it bothering someone else,” Mark jerked his head towards Kay.

Lou looked over at her partner being held by both the Prior and his head of security. She looked between the three men slowly.

“You look like hell,” she told Kay.

All the tension in Kay’s body released at once and he laughed, but he wanted to cry from relief. “Should I get you a mirror?”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Lou said, wrinkling up her face.

Kay smiled. Feeling even more relaxed when he saw the medical and disinfection teams headed out to the trio.

Mark and Lou both insisted that the prisoner be disinfected first, so that is what happened. The nurse gave Lou an injection that would counteract the deadly pollen she’d breathed in and stop her from going into anaphylactic shock again. After the prisoner was disinfected, stripped, put into clean clothes, he was restrained and led away by two of Hector’s men, the local commander, and his men.

While they waited to be disinfected, the healers healed both Mark’s and Lou’s wounds. Mark had a bad gash on his leg and some minor cuts and bruises. Lou had a gunshot wound on her lower back and a long cut down her left arm, not to mention the bleeding from her eyes from overtaxing herself earlier. Once the disinfection tent was free Mark insisted that Lou go next. Inside disinfection tent, Lou was stripped of her clothes and given a plain white shirt, khaki pants, that she was pretty sure were men’s, and no shoes. She didn’t care so long as she was out of danger. As she was being disinfected The Prior’s nurse came to talk to her.

“Mademoiselle Reed,” the nurse asked quietly. “It seemed like that young man out there is very close to you.”

“Yeah,” Lou didn’t understand why that might be important to the nurse.

“I don’t mean to pry, but if you engage in any sexual activities with him or anyone else, they will need a shot to protect them too.”

Lou’s brain was no longer working very well. “Why?”

“If the pollen got into your bloodstream, which it no doubt did, you could spread it to unprotected person through any bodily fluids,” the nurse explained.

“Yeah, okay,” Lou nodded. “Go ask him, I’m sure he’ll agree to it.”

“Again sorry to seem insensitive but he’s the only one?”

Lou just glared.

“Ok,” the nurse said. “You’ll both need to come see me in two weeks for a booster shot as well,” she put a card on the clothes that were laid out for her.

“Alright,” Lou said.

Then the nurse left to find Kay, she didn’t have to go far. Lou could just barely hear their voices. Then Lou was free to go.

As she stepped out of the tent she immediately found herself wrapped in an embrace, safe and familiar.

“Kay,” she whispered, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I was so worried,” he said, hugging her tighter.

“I know,” she breathed in deeply, enjoying his sent.

Kay picked her up and started walking back towards the Inquisition’s house.

“What are you doing?” She asked surprised.

“I have orders to take care of you,” he told her.

“But what about the Prior?” She asked.

“Hector and his guys have it under control,” Kay turned around to show her.

Sure enough Baretti and his men were keeping a tight circle around Martin.

“The only person I need to worry about right now, is you,” Kay said, smiling down at her, as they neared the house.

Lou sighed and relaxed in his arms. Once in the house the first place he took her was into the kitchen. The local woman who took care of the house and cooked for all the Church’s employees was there. She was happy that Lou was okay and she gave Lou and Kay bowls of vegetable soup. Lou was on her second bowl when Mark Joncière came in, wearing a clean uniform. He sat down and started eating a bowl of soup too.

Lou stopped eating to watch him, Kay watched Lou.

“Mark, are you alright?” She asked Joncière.

The Inquisitor looked up at her.

“I’m fine, Reed,” a slight smile touched his lips.

Lou continued to stared at him.

Mark sighed softly. “Occupational hazard, Reed.”

“What?” She asked.

“All of this,” he waved his hand around in a circle. “Assassination attempts, bullet wounds, near death experiences. It’s all just an occupational hazard.”

Lou was quiet for a bit. Under the table Kay felt her find his hand and hold it tightly. Reading her, he could tell that she was seeking comfort, but was also confused.

“The Prior wants to head back to New Paris as soon as possible,” Mark told the Psionics. “That being said, that is probably still two hours away.”

“Understood,” Kay said.

“You should get some sleep while you can, Reed,” Mark said, then he looked at Kay. “And you should put yourself back together, Stone, you’re a mess.”

Kay just looked at Mark, Lou interjected.

“Why do you look like you just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago?” Lou asked, looking at Kay’s disheveled appearance.

“Because I did,” Kay looked at her with a considerably kinder look than the one he just gave Joncière. “I was asleep until about 20 minutes before you walked out of the woods.”

Lou stared at him. “Oh, I see.”

“The Prior sedated me,” Kay said calmly.

Lou and Mark both stared at him in disbelief. “He did what?” Lou asked, eyes wide.

A smirk appeared on Kay’s face. “With my permission.”

“Oh,” Lou sighed. “Ok.”

Lou looked at Kay, as if she suddenly understood something, but said nothing. Then she yawned and rubbed her eyes.

“You should take her to bed, Stone,” Mark said.

Lou nearly snorted with laughed, her exhaustion taking its toll on her. “More relationship advice, Mark?”

Joncière didn’t raise to the bait. “Go to bed, Reed.”

While Lou continued to laugh, Kay helped her up. “Come on,” he said gently.

Kay led Lou upstairs to their room. Once inside he took off his suit jacket, took Lou to the bed, and tried to get her to lie down. That’s when he felt her emotions shift. No longer amused by Joncière’s wording, now she was upset, scared, and worried.

“Hey, now,” he said hugging her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to,” she said, she sounded so young and vulnerable.

“Don’t want to what, Lou?” He pulled away enough to put his hands on her face so he could get a good look at her.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” she said shaking her head in his hands. “Not without you.”

“You have me,” he kissed her forehead. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

She almost immediately became weak in his arms, he eased her into bed, and then he crawled in with her. He held tightly against himself, stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m right here with you.” He said those words over and over as she fell asleep. Kay didn’t sleep, but the two hours still passed quickly for him. Having Lou back, safe in his arms, sleeping peacefully on his shoulder was his own personal bliss. In no time at all there was a soft knock on the door, Kay had to carefully untangle himself from Lou in order to answer it. It was one of Hector’s men, Follower Beaumont.

“Excuse me, Monsieur,” he addressed Kay with respect. “But the Prior wishes to leave in about 20 minutes.”

“Thank you, Beaumont,” Kay said.

The soldier nodded and started to walk away, but turned back before Kay had shut the door all the way.

“And, Stone.”

Kay looked at him.

“You did good today,” Beaumont said. “Baretti thought you had lost your mind for a bit there, but we all still trusted you.”

“Thank you,” Kay smiled.

The man nodded and left; Kay went back into the room.

He knelt down beside the bed and stared trying to wake Lou up, as gently as possible. He kissed her face, whispered her name, ran his fingers through her hair.

Lou stirred slightly.

“Come on, sunshine,” he whispered. “Time to wake up.”

She groaned. “Five more minutes.”

Kay chuckled. “I know you don’t want to get up, but we are going to go home.”

Lou opened her eyes, looked at him, reached out to touch his face, and smiled.

“Home?” she whispered.

“Yes, home,” he stroked her hair. “And then you can sleep in our bed.”

She chuckled softly. “Your bed.”

Kay shook his head. “Our bed.”

Lou looked deep into his eyes that looked calmly back at her.

“Our bed,” she said a smile on her face, then she pulled him to her chest and hugged him tightly.

“Our bed,” he repeated softly in her ear.

Joncière and Martin were just finishing up with the local commander and giving orders to Hector Baretti. Hector was going to ride in the helicopter with the main security team and the prisoner. Kay and Lou sat alone in The Prior’s helicopter waiting to leave.

Lou was leaning against Kay, holding his right hand with her left, fingers laced together. She was surprisingly devoid of emotions. Kay could feel that she was tired and wanted to leave, but that was it.

“Are you doing alright?” Kay asked.

Lou nodded. “I just wanna go home.”

Kay leaned his head against hers. “Yours? Or ours?”

Lou gave a weak chuckle. “Ours.”

Kay kissed her head. “Anything you want.”

Lou sighed. And just for a brief moment Kay could feel how truly happy she was to be there with him; he squeezed her hand.

Just then the two healers came into the helicopter, the man had a bit of a limp from healing Joncière, the woman sat down carefully as to not hurt the wound on her back that she’d healed Lou of. The group of Psionics sat quietly for a moment; Lou watched the woman. She was a petite, thin woman with short black hair, and attentive, bright blue eyes.

“I never caught your names,” Lou said.

The woman gave her a brief smile. “Clair Le Roux.”

Lou let go of Kay in order to shake hands, “Lou Reed.”

“Tuck Burlington,” the man said, then he looked at Kay.

“My partner,” Lou said. “Kay Stone.”

Clair reached out for Kay’s hand, Kay smiled and shook her hand. Tuck reached for Kay’s hand too.

“So, are you two alright?” Lou asked, looking at Clair.

The healers looked at Lou for a moment before Clair answered.

“We’re fine, thank you for asking,” she gave Lou a slight smile. “You must care about a healer.”

Lou wrinkled up her nose. “Why?”

Tuck spoke: “People may be thankful for our healing, but most people don’t ask if we’re okay.”

Lou smiled softly. “Well, I’m not most people.”

Kay chuckled. “I can attest to that.”

The woman looked down at Lou and Kay’s hands. Lou’s left hand was laced together with Kay’s right, and her right hand absently touched the Ψ on his wrist.

“You two are more than just work partners, aren’t you?” Clair asked.

Lou smiled. “I guess we’re pretty obvious.”

Tuck spoke again: “Well, just like most people don’t ask healers if they are okay, not too many people like to touch empaths, especially so… continuously, if at all.”

Kay felt Lou’s annoyance, not at the healer, but at the truth of what he said. “Yeah, well, most people are stupid,” she said, resting her head on Kay’s shoulder, looking down at his tattoo.

Three sets eyes watch her slowly trace the letter Ψ with such care. Then a drop fell onto Kay’s wrist, Lou stared at it like she had no idea where it could have come from. Then another fell, and Lou felt the wetness on her face. She looked up at Kay, confused.

“It’s just fatigue,” he told her, as he brushed the tears off her face with the back of his hand. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“An hour or two maybe,” she said.

“You’ve been through a lot and haven’t had much sleep,” Kay reassured her. “You just need rest.”

Lou sighed and rested her head back on his shoulder. Clair headed her a cloth to wipe her eyes, Lou thanked her, and then closed her eyes. She was asleep almost immediately.

“How long have you two known each other?” Clair asked.

“Since early spring,” Kay said.

Clair looked surprised. “Is that all? I would have guessed that you’ve known each other most of your lives based on how you are together.”

Kay smiled. “I guess we just understand each other well.”

“You mean she understands you well,” Tuck said.

Kay looked at him.

“It’s obvious why you understand her,” Tuck explained. “But she must really understand you for you two to have bonded so quickly.”

Kay smiled. “She is something special, for sure.”

They fell silent after that and a few minutes later Ivo Martin and Mark Joncière got into the helicopter. Kay tried to straighten up and untangle himself from Lou, but Martin held his hand up.

“You’re fine, Kay,” The Prior said. “Don’t disturb her.”

Kay relaxed, Lou snuggled closer to him. They all buckled in and put headphones on as the engine of the helicopter turned on. A few minutes later the helicopters took off.

“Did she sleep earlier, Stone?” Joncière asked.

“She did, yes,” Kay told him.

“That’s good,” the Inquisitor said. “She barely slept last night.”

Mark looked at the sleeping Lou for a moment before speaking again.

“You know,” he said. “Never in my career have I ever been happier to be wrong about a person.”

“She was helpful then?” Martin asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

“She was brilliant, Ivo,” Mark said, seriously. “You know how she got the bullet hole in her back?”

Martin shook his head, Kay listened intently.

“She pushed me out of the way when we were being shot at,” Mark told them.

“That’s her job, Mark,” Martin said.

“Of course, I understand that,” Mark nodded. “You told her to protect me and she did. That’s not my point, Ivo. My point is that she did it without thinking, she just reacted. It was pure instinct. I truly believe that she would have done the same thing even if you hadn’t told her to protect me.”

Martin smiled, very slightly.

“She saved my life. Twice.” Mark said, then he grimaced. “She’ll never let me forget it.”

Kay couldn’t help but chuckle, Martin did too, then Joncière smiled just at the very corners of his mouth.

The rest of flight was quiet, upon landing Kay tried to wake Lou gently, without success.

“You know, Stone,” Mark said. “For a man who can kill without thinking you are too soft.”

If The Prior of the Inquisition hadn’t been right there Kay may have said something he’d regret, as it was, The Prior was there and it was hard enough for Kay not to stare darkly at Joncière.

“What I mean is that she isn’t made of glass,” Mark told him, then he kicked Lou’s foot. “Reed!”

Lou jumped awake, looked at Mark, and groaned. “Fuck, I’ve died and gone to hell.”

“Are you assuming I’d go to hell too, Reed?” Joncière asked, mildly amused.

“You’d always be in my personal hell, Mark,” she glared at him.

The Inquisitor chuckled. “Welcome home, Reed.” Then he stepped off the helicopter.

Martin stood next, he turned to the group of Psionics. “You have all done good work today. You can all expect bonuses. Mademoiselle Le Roux, Monsieur Burlington, you are free to go, take the next two days off, rest. Monsieur Stone, Mademoiselle Reed, we need to debrief, Hector and his men will escort me in. I want you in my office in 30 minutes.”

After their gratitude and acknowledgment The Prior got off the helicopter.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #686

Top Ten Everything in the MCU

I’ve done rankings of Marvel Cinematic Universe films and TV programmes in the past. But films and TV programmes together? Now that’s new.

Yes, the MCU is a multimedia beast these days. We seem to be getting about three films and three TV shows a year, although maybe it’s slowing down a bit now as we approach Doomsday. But as the universe as we know it began all the way back in 2008, that’s been quite a lot of content. Don’t you love that word? “Content”. That’s what everyone wants to make when they’re writing stories as a kid. Content.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. The MCU. There’s new stuff coming out all the time – in fact, a big new film, Thunderbolts Asterisk is available to book tickets for right now and will be out about a week after this list is published. And about a week ago we got to see the season finale of Daredevil: Born Again, the resurrection of Netflix-era hero Matt Murdock and his door-bashing, head-crushing nemesis Wilson Fisk. That show, despite a painful and protracted production, emerged a resounding success I’d say; and it’s what prompted me to write this “everything they’ve made” list in the first place. Y’know, just in case it was so good that it’d wind up on the list too. But, er, it didn’t. It’s still good though! Maybe if it had more Yusef Khan and less Muse? I guess we’ll never know.

The MCU is about forty years old now and there’s been approximately 98 films and over two billion episodes of TV series, so marshalling it all together and thinking about it in one order has been a challenge. Because of the multiverse, it opens up questions like “do the Raimi Spider-Man movies count?” or “does Agents of SHIELD count?”. I’ve basically decided “no”; the MCU has to mean something other than “film or TV show based on mainstream Marvel comic”, otherwise we’d be here all day cataloguing the Roger Corman Fantastic Four or David Hasselhof’s performance as Nick Fury or the times that Thor and Daredevil crossed over into the 1970s Incredible Hulk show. No, I’m just focusing on what’s been produced by Marvel Studios since 2008. We can’t get too deep into the Reeds on this one. Nobody’s expecting Fantastic Four (2015) on this list.

Even so, that’s still a lot of Capital-C Content to cover. And I’m gonna be honest: I’ve cheated. There are just some groupings of films that I couldn’t separate; and I decided that if I combined them, then it left more room on the chart for other cool things! And if I did split literally everything up, aside from the Top Ten being one-third Captain Americas (Captains America?) it also left me wondering “what then?” – individual episodes of TV programmes? Because if that’s the case, the finale of Loki would have ended up quite high (Loki, incidentally, wound up at something like 12 or 13 on the list, but that final episode taken on its own would definitely have made the Top Ten). So anyway: it’s a very personal list comprised of incredibly public movies and shows.

Perhaps I will revisit it after Secret Wars in 2027?

The Steve Rogers Trilogy (2011-2016): ah-ha, yes, here we go, I’m immediately back on my bullshit. The first three Captain America films have been sort of slow-burners for me; only Civil War really came out of the gates as a stunner. But the first one especially, First Avenger, has established itself more and more as my go-to feel-good MCU classic. Partly it’s the more simplified morality – and more earthly action – of its WWII setting; but mostly it’s because of how it foregrounds Steve’s morality and overall sacrificial goodness, uncomplicated by the dubious morality of SHIELD or the snark and darkness of the other Avengers. The “good man” scene with Dr. Eskine? Incredible. Then you have Winter Soldier, which did muddy the waters phenomenally, and really upset the MCU applecart in a shocking fashion, as well as giving us some of the greatest fight scenes in the franchise. And as for Civil War, AKA the stealth “Best Avengers Movie”? It manages to thread so many impossible needles, introduce new characters, further build and expand the shared universe, that I can’t believe it’s such a success. And through it all we have Chris Evans as Steve Rogers, this fallible but still wholeheartedly good man. A solid and anchoring performance, laced with a quiet sense of tragedy. How do you separate them? Well, I didn’t. That’s the whole deal.

Iron Man 3 (2013): this film does a lot of difficult things at the same time and does them all very well: it serves as a sequel, tonally and plot-wise, to both the previous two Iron Man films as well as The Avengers; it unpicks the jovial banter and lackadaisical attitude of Tony Stark that we love so much, but also manages to cement it with some of the funniest quips of the franchise; it manages to really serve the existing supporting cast as well as introduce some new ones; it’s got a lot of heart; it’s incredibly funny; it has terrific action sequences. And it’s got the best twist in the MCU. Really, it has everything going for it, and I love it to pieces. I do kinda wish it was called “Iron Man: Extremis” or something, rather than just “3”, though.

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) & Avengers: Endgame (2019): here I go again. It’s a two-fer! How do you separate these two though, seriously? They’re like The Lord of the Rings or Denis Villeneuve’s Dune. And what the Russo brothers and writers Marcus and McFeeley pull off across these two connected movies amounts to a god-tier version of their Civil War balancing act; weaving multiple narrative strands together, allowing many characters many moments of development and nuance, telling stories through action and spectacle because these are, fundamentally, action movies that don’t have tons of time for dialogue. These films land, they make sense, and they have the almost entirely unique virtue of building off a decade’s worth of storytelling and interconnected narratives. I’m not kidding or exaggerating when I say that the fact that these films are as good as they are is one of the most impressive filmmaking feats of my lifetime.

WandaVision (2021): the opening few episodes, with their pitch-perfect renditions of classic TV production and tropes, and the way these reflected the plot and the character of Wanda, and how it all tied together with her magic, and Agatha’s, and the ongoing MCU storyline, was simply sublime writing. I cannot overstate how excellently this parodied various styles of sitcom, and how the breaks from those parodies were uncanny, emotional, event terrifying. Did it maybe make us question too deeply? Was it a bit of mean fan service to cast the other Quicksilver? Are we all way too obsessed with Mephisto? It doesn’t matter; this was pitch-perfect TV, a bolt out of the blue, and something no one was expecting.

Agatha All Along (2024): arguably the only other MCU show to really deliver the same kind of unpeeling mystery box sensation as WandaVision, this pseudo-sequel felt unnecessary when it was announced and yet has emerged as one of the best things they’ve ever done, certainly on the small screen. Kathryn Hahn’s performance as Agatha is superb, threading the needle between comic and tragic and genuinely malevolent. And the show itself is a hoot; a big, gay musical adventure road movie starring a bunch of bitchy witches. It throws all these balls up into the air and manages to catch them, delivering a genuinely emotional payoff that works.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023): talk about sticking the landing… James Gunn’s Guardians movies always did their own thing, and here in this trilogy-capper, we get a finale that not only feels of a piece with the Guardians films that came before, but also feels decidedly iconoclastic. We get a hell of a lot of emotional payoff, but it doesn’t come the way we might have expected – there isn’t really one final battle against overwhelming odds, or the Guardians sacrificing themselves to save the galaxy: instead it’s a far more personal, emotional journey, about a bunch of A-holes who became a team, then became friends, then became family. Despite the silliness and the crassness, it’s actually very mature and sincere.  

Ms. Marvel (2022): okay, maybe this one didn’t quite stick the landing. But it benefits from one of the best casting decisions in the MCU: Iman Vellani as Kamala Khan, full of exuberance and naivety and optimism, navigating the strange new world of super powers. The first half of the season is just incredible, a really fun and funny portrait of everyday life in the MCU; Kamala’s extended circle of family and friends are just wonderful to be around, and as an arch domestic sitcom it’s top-notch. There are also some really pointed things to say about the treatment of minorities, growing up Asian in the MCU, and the advanced hostility of the police to people of colour. It does have its odd wobble, but the great bits more than make up for it.

Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021): operating at a similar register to Endgame, this manages to be all things to all people and yet still just utterly work. It’s firmly Peter’s story – the continuation of Tom Holland’s Peter Parker and his ongoing journey as Spider-Man in the MCU. It’s mostly a romantic drama – a fairly tragic one, too – that is also, typically, full of gonzo action and spectacle, with a hell of a lot of really funny bits. And then. And then. This is the concept of the multiverse done right, and one of the great strengths of these huge mainstream characters; they can pull from two decades of movies and actors to deliver moments that work in-story but also function as a meta-story, a comment on the medium and the franchise, and deliver a delightfully nostalgic endorphin rush at just the right moment.

The Avengers (2012): this almost feels like going back to the beginning – to a much simpler time. But back then, this was a crazy gamble; folly, some called it. I distinctly remember the conversations about how this just wouldn’t work. And yet! Whatever Whedon’s faults as a human being, this has a great script, the core Avengers really gelling instantly, some tremendous chemistry really feeding the scenes as they bicker and squabble until they come together for real in a gonzo all-out battle across the streets of New York that was just impossible to imagine before 2012. The first inkling that Marvel really could do this, could knit these stories together, could tell something across multiple movies that would actually pay off; it worked! Dammit, it worked!

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special (2022): this excels if you take it for what it is. As a short, funny aside, a daft little adventure as Mantis and Drax try to find a Christmas present for Peter, it’s absolutely sublime. Is it as weighty or exciting or action-packed as the proper Guardians films? No, but it punches well above its weight. The trick is threefold: one, it feels incredibly Christmassy, with two new songs, plenty of decorations, and a big-ass present; two, it’s insanely funny, a really weird, wacky, silly little Christmas cracker; and three, it’s chock-full of heart. This makes me tear up repeatedly, often at odd moments. Nebula giving Rocket the arm, for instance; or Kraglin’s face when he receives Groot’s present. Aww. It’s delightful!

[auroraboringaliceinwonderland]

My Top Favorite Webcomics: REEDS, by zzsleeps

TL;DR included below.

(Behold fish and Reaction Image #47[<I’m not actually counting], each featuring Shu).

Now - in my Top Favorite Webcomics Ever of All Time Ever Forever & Ever Until the End of Time List - I know I said that I wouldn’t be going in the order of the listings because I love my favorites equally for different reasons and I couldn’t choose between them, however REEDS must always be #1 because it is the first webcomic that got me into webcomics as a whole in the first place.

If that glorious image from the comic itself isn’t enough to convince you to check it out, then allow me to regale in the tale of how I first found out about webcomics.

Ahem…

[Insta(nt)-Gra(h)am(Crackers), 1947, April 42, sunterday] (/j)

I had always loved graphic novels growing up, so when I found out about an artist posting about a webcomic - comic on the spider web that is the internets - I was intrigued, to say the least. Mind you, I wasn’t intrigued enough to actually check the comic out per se; more like… wait and see if it’d get turned into a graphic novel one day.

I was patient and didn’t think well of scrolling on a device for too long, lest my motion sickness get the best of me. Not to mention choosing which webcomic app to read on, making a profile; all that jazz. It was simply too much for me at the time.

On the instant graham crackers (instagram), I’d been following the creator for a while. Every Tuesday I’d see a post about REEDS updating, and a snippet of part of the episode’s update. Occasionally I’d read those updates out of context in curiosity, but it never went beyond that.

Not until years later… (it wasn’t actually years; that’s for the bit).

[Insta(nt)-Gra(h)am(Crackers), 1956, Ramuarember 10, Tuesday] (/j)

Having followed the zz sleepy author of REEDS for a while, more webcomic authors started popping up in my instant graham crackers feed. (!!). Some were followed by him and vice versa - creators supporting creators and all - but some were also not followed by him, having appeared by the algorithm thinking I love webcomics despite me having not read a single one before.

It… was a lot.

Right then and there I thought to myself, “Okay jeez, I need to actually read one of these comics now.” But by then I was following so many artists that I didn’t know which comic to start with!

That is until one Tuesday afternoon when I saw a post about REEDS updating again. I read the snippet and boy was it intriguing enough for me to finally check one of these webcomics off my list.

It was around season 2 or the halfway point of season 2 that I’d joined the party, and I binged the whole thing right there sitting on a chair behind the couch as my family watched something else. I haven’t a clue what they’d been watching; I didn’t care; I had REEDS - the most intriguing thing I’d read in a long ass time.

Afterward I was pacing back and forth all across my house, because, “What was that immaculate story I just read?? I have to wait for more?? After that cliffhanger?? What am I supposed to do until then? What the fuuuuuuuuu—”

By then it was too late. What had been started could not be undone, and I had a newfound thirst for blood more immaculate stories. So I started reading more and more and more and more and more…!! Until it became my favorite form of entertainment.

More about REEDS itself:

It’s queer from relationships between different characters to gender; there’s magic depicted as colorful flames that come from one’s very soul; confusing family dynamics: Hmong culture; dragons; intriguing characters and character dynamics; backstories (gosh the backstories [looks at Keng]); action, adventure, fantasy, some romance. Literally everyone one could ever ask for in a story.

Official summary:

In the midst of a war, the sheltered Prince Shu finds himself captured and dragged across enemy lines.

His rescuer, Keng, is a wandering musician with a magical qeej that controls souls, ghosts, and spirits.

Keng agrees to help Shu navigate the dangerous outside world so he can return to the palace safely. But this mysterious wanderer is hiding a grave secret…

Status as of this post: ongoing!

Do I have merch of this webcomic?:

Why yes I do, thank you so much for asking.

Everyone meet the best lad!!

The picture is so big because that’s how legendary he is; totally not cause idk how to make the image smaller hahaha. Anyways, he’s been let out of that plastic prison, don’t worry about it.

Have I made fanart of it?

No, but I did draw bday stuff all over this screenshot for his bday on feb 14 2025

The author zzsleeps posts REEDS on webtoon and tapas if you want to check it out (you should; this entire post was me recommending it to you), but he also has socials on insta as mentioned, youtube; and even tumblr, tho I don’t see him post too often here.

TL;DR:

REEDS was the first webcomic I found, and thus got me into reading more webcomics. It’s an ongoing queer Hmong fantasy story with action, adventure, and a whole lot of intriguing lore. The author posts it on both webtoon and tapas, and he can be found on insta; yt; and tumblr. Also I have some merch of REEDS and it’s great :)

And also the link to my Top Webcomics List post~~

[reedreadsgreek]

1 Corinthians 7, Reed's Version

Now, about the remark in your letter, “It is best to remain unmarried.” Yes, that is the ideal, but because of sexual temptation, it’s best for most people to get married. The husband must not withhold the sexual affection his wife deserves, nor the wife from her husband. You see, the wife is not in charge of her own body but her husband is, just like the husband is not in charge of his own body but his wife is. If a couple mutually agrees to abstain from sexual relations for a short while in order to focus on prayer, that’s fine, but be sure to come back together soon so that Satan, the tempter, will not exploit you when your self-control is weak. This isn’t a command, I’m just trying to meet you halfway. My preference would be for everyone to remain single, as I am. But not everybody is gifted with singleness; some have one strength and some have another. 

Those of you who have not yet married or are widows, I encourage you to remain unmarried. But if you have trouble keeping your passions in check, you should marry. It’s better to marry than to be consumed with lust. Those of you who are married, I command (really it’s the lord who commanded it) that no woman should divorce her husband and no husband should divorce his wife. If any are already divorced, then remain single or else patch things up with your spouse. To everyone I say (the lord didn’t address this issue) that no Christian man should leave his non-Christian wife if she is happy to stay with him, and no Christian woman should leave her non-Christian husband if he is happy to stay with her. Do not fear the unbelieving spouse pulling you away from God; in fact, you will actually pull them closer to God. If you were to divorce, your children may grow up in an unbelieving home; if you stay, they will be closer to God. Now, if the non-Christian spouse decides to divorce you, you don’t need to fight it. You aren’t guilty of sin in such a case. In the end, God has called you to live in peace. None of you know whether or not you will be able to bring your unbelieving spouse to faith. 

The principle is, live your life according to how the lord has assigned you and God has called you. I teach this same thing in all the other churches I founded. Were you uncircumcised when you first believed in Christ? Do not seek circumcision. Were you circumcised when you came to Christ? Do not seek to hide your circumcision. Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any inherent value; all that matters is following the will of God. So be content with the circumstances you were in when God called you to faith. Were you in slavery when you came to faith? No problem. You can serve God as slave. (Although, if the opportunity to gain your freedom comes by, go for it.) You see, a slave who believes is free in Christ, and the free person who believes is a slave to Christ. (If you’re not already a slave, don’t become one; God is your rightful master.) Each of you, dear brothers and sisters, are to continue in the same course of life you were in when you came to faith. 

Now, I have no directive from the lord concerning your young men and women who are single, but I offer my opinion as someone who, by the Lord’s mercy, is trustworthy. Because of these trying times, a good principle is that most people should stay as they are. If you’re already engaged, there’s no need to break it off. But if you’re not yet engaged, don’t become so. Now, if any of you or your young people do choose to get married, you’ve committed no sin. But married folk will have extra burdens in this life, and I want to spare you that. What I mean is, my brothers and sisters, that time is critical. So even if you get married, keep alert as if you were single. If you grieve or rejoice, don’t become absorbed in those distractions. If you buy anything, don’t pretend that it’s permanent. If you do business in the secular world, keep your hearts free from the world, because the current fabric of human society is frail and transitory. My goal is to free you from any undue anxiety. The unmarried man is concerned only with the lord’s work, doing what pleases the lord. But the married man also has responsibilities in the world, doing what pleases his wife, and so he’s pulled in different directions. Similarly, the unmarried woman is concerned only with the lord’s work, being pure in body and spirit. But the married woman also has responsibilities in the world, doing what pleases her husband. I’m saying this to free you, not put you in a bind. My goal is that you all be able to faithfully serve the lord in fitting ways, without burning out or being preoccupied by worldly cares. 

Now, it seems that some of you are engaged, but worried that it’s inappropriate to follow-through in marriage. But if you’re eager to be married then please do as you wish. It’s not a sin, you kids have fun. But if you’ve made a firm commitment in your heart to singleness and are in control of your passions, and you’re not being pressured, it’s better to break off the engagement. So, those who get married do well, but those who remain single do better. 

A married woman is obligated to stay with her husband as long as he lives. But if he dies, she’s free to remarry anyone she wants, as long as he’s a Christian. But in my opinion, a widow is better off remaining unmarried. And my advice is worth considering; it is given under the direction of the Spirit of God.

[crowwithinternetaccess]

I'm writing chapter 4 of Indigostar's Corruption! :D

Indigopaw trained hard for the next moon, utterly dedicated to absorbing everything he could and more. The day after his argument with Branchpaw, Falconsong had actually started training him, teaching him the correct way to catch mice  (though Indigopaw already knew how, even if he had to admit that ThunderClan’s method was more efficient), how to track prey and other cats, and how to locate resources like reeds, moss, and vines. Every morning, Falconsong woke him up before any of the other apprentices and took him to train until sunhigh. After that, he’d usually gather moss or go hunting, then sometimes he’d get to join the evening patrol. By sunset, Indigopaw would be tired and sore, but he just kept telling himself that this was the only way to prove himself.

He even started thinking it might have been starting to work, that maybe ThunderClan could warm up to Indigopaw. That morning, Indigopaw woke up early just like always and went out into the forest to train with Falconsong. “I’m going to teach you a new battle move today,” Falconsong informed his apprentice, and Indigopaw’s pelt spiked with achievement. “I know I haven’t focused much on battle training with you, but I think it’s about time you knew how to defend yourself, especially as WindClan grows stronger.” Falconsong’s eyes were ever searching; since Indigopaw had been apprenticed about a moon ago, he’d always looked at him as if anticipating some sort of disobedience. Indigopaw had pretty much accepted that this was a fact that wouldn’t change and had even convinced himself that Falconsong had been like this with all of his apprentices; Petalstem had said that Falconsong didn’t let apprentices get away with disobedience. 

I can defend myself, Indigopaw thought but didn’t say. I’ve probably seen more danger than you. He stared into his mentor’s firm gaze, imagining the few glimpses of danger the warrior might have seen; sure, he was an experienced and respected warrior, and Indigopaw was sure he’d seen his fair share of battles, but had he really faced death the same way Indigopaw had as just a kit? He didn’t think so. “Okay, Falconsong,” Indigopaw mewed, trying to seem excited; Falconsong probably wouldn’t respond well to the truth that Indigopaw had seen more danger in his short life than the much older clan-born cat had. Falconsong only grunted in response before flicking his tail to signal Indigopaw to follow. His mentor led him to a small clearing where they’d have enough space to train. “The first thing I want to teach you is how to defend yourself,” Falconsong explained. “If a cat is coming towards you in order to attack, what’s the first thing you do, Indigopaw?” His mentor’s gaze was hard and unwavering; he was almost surely expecting Indigopaw to not know what to say. Indigopaw’s pupils narrowed as he imagined the scenario… He was in battle, and an enemy warrior was advancing to aim an attack at him… “Depends,” He began carefully. “But I’d probably make myself look small, like I wasn’t prepared, and just before the other cat tries to swipe at me, I duck and lunge at their exposed belly–or neck!” He added the last bit quickly, remembering that the neck was another very sensitive area on a cat. Indigopaw studied his mentor, expecting–no, hoping–to see a look of approval, but Falconsong’s tail tip flicked with irritation instead, and his eyes shone with unpleasant surprise. “Indigopaw, a respectable warrior doesn’t use trickery to best an opponent; they would use skill and strength. An honorable warrior relies on his prowess to win a battle,” Falconsong growled. “And you never go for the throat unless your aim is to kill–which you know is against the warrior code.” Indigopaw frowned at his mentor. You think I don’t know that?

“I-I didn’t say I was gonna kill them!” He defended himself quickly. “And what’s the difference between relying on wit and relying on strength? If it’s unfair to outsmart your opponent, then it’s certainly unfair to outstrength them!” Falconsong’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Quiet, Indigopaw! I’m telling you this because it’s true. You’re wrong.” Indigopaw felt his hackles raise and his chest tighten with anger. That was hardly an argument! “Well, what if you’re wrong?” He scoffed, his own tail now swishing dangerously. Falconsong’s claws came unsheathed and he dug them into the grass beneath them. “I am your mentor and you will listen to me,” He growled, voice threateningly low. Indigopaw glared at Falconsong, eyes scanning the older cat’s rippling pelt and bunched muscles; Falconsong was angry, but Indigopaw wasn’t afraid of him. Whatever. If submitting to Falconsong is what I need to do to become a warrior, I’ll do it. They’ll all understand when I’m in charge. He said nothing after that, staring at his mentor, waiting for him to say something else. “Well, are you ready to shut up and listen to me? Or is this the only training you’ll be getting today?” Falconsong spat impatiently. “I’m ready,” Indigopaw huffed, hating how his voice sounded like an insolent kit’s. Falconsong grumbled and continued the lesson.

By sunhigh, Falconsong had taught Indigopaw three ThunderClan battle moves, and had been about to start a fourth until the pair realized how late it was getting. “We need to hurry back,” Falconsong grumbled, starting back towards the trees. Indigopaw tilted his head, chest still heaving as he caught his breath from the difficult maneuvers; he didn’t understand why clan fighting tactics were so showy. “Why hurry?” He breathed. “I overheard Birdstar and Torrentstrike discussing Volekit’s apprentice ceremony. It would be impolite to miss it,” Falconsong explained, not looking back to face his apprentice when speaking to him. Indigopaw grimaced; he knew he’d miss this blissful moon without the little nuisance in the coming five more moons of apprenticeship he knew were ahead of him. Maybe I’ll get apprenticed early if I do good enough, Indigopaw thought hopefully. “Oh. Okay,” He said simply in response, not wanting to give away his annoyance. The two trotted back to camp briskly and silently; the leftover awkwardness from their argument earlier had hung over both of them all day. Indigopaw thought about apologizing for a good while before actually saying anything. “About earlier,” Indigopaw began, then thought for a moment. “Sorry for making you mad,” he said simply.

Falconsong studied his apprentice’s face for a few heartbeats and seemed not to like what he found there. “Don’t apologize. I don’t wanna hear it. I just wanna get this over with.” Indigopaw instantly hated himself when his heart sank sickeningly. Why am I so desperate for this foxheart to like me? “Get what over with?” He asked slowly, frowning. Falconsong rolled his eyes. “Your apprenticeship to me. I didn’t ask for another apprentice, and I certainly didn’t ask for a rogue apprentice.” He glanced at Indigopaw again. “Look, it was nice of Birdstar to let you join us, but it doesn’t seem to me like you really appreciate it. I’m still not even convinced you’ll stay here much longer. I just want this to be over sooner rather than later so we can both stop wasting each other’s time.” Indigopaw stared at Falconsong, feeling an unpleasant lump rise in his throat like a painful boulder. His breathing quickened. StarClan, you stupid kit, He scolded himself. You knew he didn’t like you, so why are you so surprised now he’s said it? Indigopaw jammed his sorrow down, forcing it into submission until all that was left was a dull disdain for the big tabby warrior. He decided not to say anything, instead keeping the same phrases in his head the entire way back; You’ll show him soon. Very soon. You’ll show everyone.

(Chapters 1-3 are on my ao3)

[percontaion-points]

Fearless (HMA 4) chapters 15 & 16

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 15

I wasn’t about to tell him that my mom’s dream for me had included a panther mate…

I’m pretty sure Alana wouldn’t want for her child to be with a narcissistic manipulator. 

Although part of me understands that Alana wanted for Vail to be with a panther because the panthers don’t have the political system the wolves do. 

“I spoke to my mom right after Reed was detained.” He glanced at Marnie, who was watching him with her heart in her eyes. “She said he was fine, but it was clear that was subject to our attendance at the party.”

I say let the bitch rot. She intentionally went in there WITH HER INFANT CHILDREN. She deserves to be tortured a little bit. 

“My mom was a hybrid, too. She ran away after being caught up in a bane raid. It means my grandfather’s been doing this a long time, and if he was willing to hurt his own daughter…”

The narration never said that Iris was a wolf NOR a cat either way… But seeing as how batty Johnathn is acting over this entire thing, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that she’s probably a full wolf.

And Johnathan is a full wolf as well. Again, 100% considering how obsessed he is with “voids” and “banes”, this is only an estimated guess. 

So where the fuck did Alana’s cat come from? Because the last time I checked, wolf + wolf ≠ cat. 

“Oh, no. The kin bond,” I whispered. “Jasper, we don’t have any choice. I have to go to that party.”

Chapter 15 summary: After hanging up and going back to the caves, Vail gets into an argument over where she went for two hours. She insists that his brothers only wanted to run and chase voles, but he’s angry about Trey. Even despite Vail’s continued insistence that she ONLY wants Jasper. 

This is kind of interrupted when the brothers show both of them visions of the Marrow compound’s basement. They’d seen that there was a basement on the blueprints, but figured that it was a wine cellar. Now they realise that they shouldn’t have presumed anything, since it seems as though it’s either a lab or a straight up prison dungeon. They think that Cal and Reed are being held down there either way. 

They then start to plan a sneak attack to the compound, since it’s the day before the party. (The last I checked, it was still a week away, but whatever. You do you.) Marnie is upset that she’s being benched, but the others point out that she’s still too new at being a wolf, let alone an alpha. She could get hurt. 

Then Vail has the most excruciating pain imaginable. The others say that it’s Johnathan using his pack leader power to summon everybody that he’s related to or has a bond with. And that the pain won’t go away until the person shows up. Jasper says that people have died from denying the call of their leader, so it looks like they’re going. 

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen – Reed

So rather than to actually see what Jasper does in order to rescue Reed and Cal, we’re going to be subjected to…? Pages of Reed sitting in his cell, and only when the others show up will we have actual plot movement, if I had to guess. 

Possibly torture. 

“I didn’t want to believe it. But then I got pissed at my mom on New Year’s and shifted [into a cat] again. She told me then what really happened to my dad.” He pushed himself up onto an elbow, his eyes like black slits in the dim lighting. “He was part of some underground resistance, fighting for bane rights. Until he got picked up by some void hunters, who took him to a lab and tortured the fuck out of him. My uncle tracked him down, tried to ransom him back, but by then he was too far gone. They gave us back his body to bury, and I thought my uncle was going to burn their place to the ground. But he just… bowed out of everything. Did shit all for the pack and drank himself into a coma. But not before he told everyone my dad died of some bullshit blood disease and my mom backed him up.” 

Fuck. No wonder Cal was so screwed up. He’d been carrying around a huge secret, while living a lie that was eating him up inside.

I’m sorry that all of that happened to Cal. But that’s no excuse for him sexually assaulting girls. (You know Vail wasn’t the first he’d done that to.) 

“Like I said, my angel doesn’t leave anything to chance.”

Chapter 16 summary: It was worse than I had predicted: Reed was thrown into a cell with Callum, so the two of them immediately start to bicker about their relationship with Vail. Because everything always comes back to her. 

However, as soon as this dries up, Cal takes Reed on a trip down memory lane, when things were a little bit happier. Well, relatively speaking, considering how abusive Jasper’s father was. Cal says that the first time he shifted into a cat was one Christmas, when Jasper’s dad was being especially abusive towards him. His mum later told him that his father had been picked up and killed in a bane raid, but that his uncle started the rumour that the dad had died because of a genetic disease in order to try and shield the family. Reed is horrified to hear about this, and thinks that it’s no wonder Cal is so messed up. Not with having held onto these secrets for so long. 

They then start to feel the pull of Johnathan Marrow’s summons, despite the fact that… They ain’t fucking related or bonded to him in any way. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but whatever. Anyway, it turns out that the two of them weren’t alone in the prison cell, and the summons awakens some skinny punk. He says some stuff about “my angel is coming to rescue me!” And he has a fucking tracker in the tongue ring he’s wearing. 

[brewing-mischief]

Kansas's grave-(fiction story)

T/w themes of suicide and death

Death is so much different than life. It’s eternal, while life is a temporary state. Kansas had been dead for approximately 8 months. He hadn’t really noticed time passing on earth while he had been dead. Death is…its your conscious existing. Doing things for a moment while time speeds on elsewhere. Perhaps the living being would take offense that the dead are no longer worried about them. But when you’re dead you’re able to see just how fickle everything is. How small. How very…temporary it is. Everyone will be dead soon. Incredibly soon. It’s like walking to the kitchen to grab a snack. You don’t miss those you left sitting on the couch. You see them again so quickly you don’t really have time to miss them.

That’s what death is.

It’s safe. And comforting and gentle.

For someone like Kansas, death was a release of every responsibility. He was still there, still working. But only for himself. No hungry mouths to worry about feeding. No danger on the horizon to fight, No decisions to make to lead everyone everywhere. Finally. Finally quiet.

. . .

It started with a surge in his chest. Which he didn’t even have. Then it spread to his arms, his legs, his head. It burned. His fingers twitched. His jaw unclenched. His eyes glowed as he was dragged and reformed around his own bones.

Pain is a funny thing when you’ve been eternal for eight earth months. It’s a funny thing if you’ve been eternal for a minute. In death you shed your skin and realize you were never temporary at all. That there was so much more to you than you ever even knew. Eternal. Immortal. You spread, explode into a thousand-star clusters, expanding to reach the end of time just because you can.

And now all of that was being callously stuffed back into the smallest little molecule, locked tightly underneath regrowing skin and woven through the chains of muscle.

Kansas breathes. Shallow, impossibly small as his brain begins to slowly return starting his heart, pumping oxygen, sending commands to nerve receptors. Then he hears. It’s so dull. So loud. So quiet from what he heard in death. It’s impossible to control. He’s just an object the universe pushes around now.

There’s people speaking. They start muffled, far away as he comes to before they clear up. Coming in and out.

“I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know! We did everything you said! Are you telling me we went through all that and it didn’t even work!?”

“I-I followed the spell! It should work!”

“It SHOULD?! Well guess what? I don’t see him breathing!”

Theres sounds of shouting, of fabric being grabbed. Possibly a fight ready to break out.

 ‘Don’t open your eyes.’ Kansas thinks. The first thought he officially has after returning to life. ‘Don’t breathe. Don’t let yourself be notice. Just die. Go back to death.’

He wants to. So badly. But he doesn’t.

Kansas in life has never been a quitter. And it seems his weak party learned that from him. He sits up.

The sun is out today. It’s bright.

He’s in the forest it looks like. A stone circle surrounds him. Runes are burned into the grass.

“Kansas?” He  looks to his right. Jessabelle is kneeling next him, her hand outreached, frightened. In his first life he had loved her, she had been his everything. Except now he had been everything. And Jessabelle seemed so…distant now. Her eyes could focus on only what she could see. There was so much out there. So much she didn’t know.

He stands up.

Gravity is weird. So is height. He hadn’t realized how tall he was before. Hadn’t realized the disadvantage of only being able to see things from one angle.

“Kansas? Kansas! You’re alive!” It’s Reed. He’s letting go off Byron’s robes in order to come crashing into Kansas. “Oh man dude is it good to see you! So much has happened, you won’t believe it. I mean-when you died, we-we had to retreat. No one knew what to do without you. So I said to them, I said we had to get you back! And now you’re here! And-“ Reed is squeezing him tightly. He had always been shorter than Kansas. He pushes his head into the crook of his shoulder, and keeps Kansas arms at their side through the embrace.

There are many things Kansas wants to do. And also, nothing. He wants to scream, yell. Shove Reed away. He wants to embrace his friend and offer comfort. And he also, doesn’t care at all.

He settles on nothing.

Reed pulls away confused. “Kansas?”

He’d like to know what exactly Byron did to get him there. He pushes past Reed to their wizard. Byron is nearly shaking, but stands firm despite it. A good trait. Bravery. Kansas knows that word. He used to be brave, when he had things to fear.

He holds out his hand. Byron just stares out it.

“Book.” He finally grunts out. Talking is awkward. He hasn’t had to talk in death. Things just knew. His tongue feels too big for his mouth now. His throat is dry. Those use to have an effect on how he spoke, he remembers.

Byron hands him the book.

It’s in old writing. Something he could never had read in his first life. He barley knew how to read common then, even after Jesabelle stayed up at night coaching him through words. Something like this would have been impossible for him to every decipher. Now though, everything in the book was juvenile. A child’s scribbles in an attempt to portray the things he had seen, experienced, been.

Necromancy – Reviving the dead.

Byron’s book had his own ink scribbles in the margins. He had been trying to edit the spell. Which made sense. The original spell would only reanimate corpses. If they had followed it, he would still have been dead. It looks like Byron added his own twist of a growth spell to a healing spell on top of the necromancy spell.

A foolish combination.

Death was inevitable. Immortality didn’t exist in life, only in death. But Byron had unknowingly come close. The spell would most certainly continue to repair his body as he got hurt, continue to push energy into the necromancy spell with each breath he took. They had brought him back to life in a way that relied on him being dead. He wouldn’t be able to die easily now. Would likely outlive them by multiple generations.

Spells were temporary, but they lasted longer than the eyes of the living could perceive.

Perhaps he would be frightened if he didn’t know what he knew now. Waiting for the spell to die would be tedious. But he would face death eventually. Still. It was bothersome. Perhaps he could break the spell first.

After all a tree keeps growing until it is cut. He’d just have to find a sharp knife. Quickly.

Spells were their weakest in their first year and last year. The first year looked strong to many mortals. But it would often grow stronger and more reinforced until it reached its climax. Then it would deteriorate back down to level 1 before dissolving. He’s currently at level 1. If he can find something stronger than Byron’s magic, he should be able to cut it and return to death.

Ok.

Good plan.

“Kansas…buddy? You-You good?” Reed is edging his way towards him. Kansas snaps the book shut making them all jump. He hands it back to Byron. There’s only three of them. They used to be a party of eight. The rest likely left then. Kansas hadn’t meet any of them in death.

The three of them look scared. Tired. Worn out. Hungry.

Those things only affected mortals. But that’s what they were. Kansas feels the weight of responsibility set back on his shoulders. He had been their leader. Bringing them food, directing their path, nursing their sick, soothing their worries. He loved them plenty, which is why he had done it. But it had always been exhausting.

He now knew what rest was.

He wasn’t as interested in being exhausted again. He found their insistence to bring him back over their ability to learn to take care of themselves slightly annoying.

So, new plan. Get them ready. Teach them how to handle themselves first.

Kansas smiled softly at them. They stiffened for a moment. “Let make camp guys” He suggested, and in an instant the air lifted.

Jessabelle’s posture relaxes, and Reed’s smile exploded. To his side Byron knocked their shoulders together. “You really scared us there Kansas. Don’t go sacrificing yourself again, ok?”

He’s talking about Kansas’s death. When he had tried to distract an animated rock monster from their party so the rest could escape. They had already been hurt from their fight with one of the high generals, so the moving mountain had nearly killed them-Or succussed in Kansas’s case.

“Don’t worry,” Kansas found himself saying, thinking of the sleepless nights he spent keeping watch when someone wouldn’t get up for their shift, the ache of his muscles from prepping all firewood, the weight from his pack filled with other’s belongings, the number of his worries gone unspoken in order to stay reliable. “I won’t.”