#*this being ‘Imrae’s Wrath’

[landfilloftrash]

Imrae’s Wrath; “My bite’s worse than my bark”

[600shekels]

2 Chronicles 19: 8-11. "The Administrators."

8 In Jerusalem also, Jehoshaphat "The Ordinances" appointed some of the Levites, priests and heads of Israelite families to administer the law of the Lord and to settle disputes. And they lived in Jerusalem. 

=The Lubavitch Dynasty the world's oldest royal family, which has been responsible to the King of Israel for maintaining social equity and opportunities for human success and enlightenment since this Septuagint was published.

Chabad, also known as Lubavitch, Habad and Chabad-Lubavitch[2] (Hebrew: חב"ד לובביץ; Yiddish: חב״ד ליובוויטש), is an Orthodox JewishHasidic dynasty. Chabad is one of the world's best-known Hasidic movements, particularly for its outreach activities. It is one of the largest Hasidic groups[3] and Jewish religious organizations in the world. Unlike most Haredi groups, which are self-segregating, Chabad operates mainly in the wider world and caters to secularized Jews.

9 He gave them these orders: “You must serve faithfully and wholeheartedly in the fear of the Lord. 

10 In every case that comes before you from your people who live in the cities—whether bloodshed or other concerns of the law, commands, decrees or regulations—you are to warn them not to sin against the Lord; otherwise his wrath will come on you and your people. Do this, and you will not sin.

11 “Amariah the chief priest will be over you in any matter concerning the Lord, and Zebadiah son of Ishmael, the leader of the tribe of Judah, will be over you in any matter concerning the king, and the Levites will serve as officials before you. Act with courage, and may the Lord be with those who do well.”

Amariah= Yah Said...

אמר

The ubiquitous verb אמר ('amar) means to talk or say and may even mean to promise or command. Nouns אמר ('omer) and מאמר (ma'amar) mean speech, word, promise or command. Nouns אמרה ('imra) and אמרה ('emra) mean utterance or speech. The metaphorical noun אמיר ('amir) refers to the leafy and fruit bearing crown of a tree.

Zebadiah son of Ishmael= Give the people accountability

זבד

The verb זבד (zabad) means to give and the noun זבד (zebed) means gift. Both these words are used only once, in Genesis 30:20. These words' more common equivalents come from the root נתן (natan).

שמע

The verb שמע (shama') means to hear and may also mean to understand or obey. Noun שמע (shema') means sound. Nouns שמע (shoma') and שמועה (shemu'a) mean tidings, report or mentions. Noun השמעות (hashma'ut) describes that which is caused to be heard. Noun משמע (mishma') means rumor or a thing heard. Noun משמעת (mishma'at) refers to a group or listeners.

The Lubavitches who have maintained the world's understanding of the Torah and Tanakh through thick and thin have been asked by the God of Israel to reconstitute the Kingdom of Israel and organize a response to the decline of God's Authority on this world: AKA The Heat Belt.

Our conflicted, warring, deluded human race is in no position to act with the means required to stave off the Heat Belt and protect the plants, animals, territories and human beings from its effects in time.

Just as God called upon the Levites, Miriam, Moses, Aaron, Eleazar, Joshua and the rest to bring the Column of Israel out of Egypt, He is now expecting the remaining Levites of this era to help entire human race leave its hypocrisy in the past and rescue us all from certain death due to the complications of the drought that is upon us.

As the verse says, may God give us all courage and good sense as we act in His name to save each other from certain destruction.

[vulcan-highblood]

Not According To Plan (2/5)

Fandom: Supergirl (2015)/Legion of Superheroes

Summary: (Post Season 3 Ep.18 "Shelter From the Storm") Querl and Imra return to the 31st Century. It's not at all what they expected.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Chapter 2: The Reaction

Querl never realized how lonely it was to be trapped in your own head until his thoughts had nowhere else to go. The others would tease him, at times, about his attachment to devices and other objects they considered “inanimate”. But they were fully organic beings, they didn't understand computers, not the way Querl did. They couldn’t see how clever some systems were, they’d never really noticed the antics some devices would pull. True, the devices and computers that Querl interacted with on a daily basis were not sentient the way a Coluan was, but neither were pets and nobody made fun of people for conversing with or ascribing anthropomorphic qualities to them.

He’d been on the Legion cruiser for over three hours, watching his teammates manually input the coordinates for the route through neutral space that Rokk had eventually gotten from their Braalian contact. Querl wasn’t even allowing himself to touch the computer, too worried that he might access the device unintentionally. Instead, he stood back, watching the Legionnaires inputting the information with painstaking slowness and fighting back an ever-growing sense of frustration. Was this to be his life, now, in the 31st century? He couldn’t function like this, he wasn’t built to be so totally cut off from all computer systems. It was like torture, like he’d completely walled off a part of his own soul. Which, to be fair, he essentially had, as he was as much A.I. as he was an organic lifeform. 

“Brainy, we would all really appreciate it if you would stop pacing,” Rokk snapped, glancing up from the console to fix an irritated glare on Querl.

Querl froze, steepling his fingers as he stared back at the Braalian. “Very well,” he said, barely suppressing the urge to respond in a childish manner. “I will stop pacing.” It took far more willpower than he’d expected, but he did stop. He watched them plug in another coordinate, and another. Grife, it was going to take them another 2.564 hours to complete the task at this rate. Inhaling deeply, Querl focused on exhaling as slowly as possible. It helped, incrementally. He watched them plug in the wrong coordinate. Waited to see if they would notice. They didn’t. “Rokk, that should be one-four-seven-five point nine-nine-eight-three by one-two-seven point seven-seven-four-eight-one,” Querl pointed out, “Not one-four-seven-five point nine-nine-eight-three by one-two-seven point seven-seven-four-eight- seven.”

Rokk glanced between his notes, the map they’d been charting, and blanched. “Right,” he noted, and changed the coordinate. “Thanks, Brainy.”

“You’re welcome,” Querl answered. It wasn’t much. Wasn’t anything, really, considering how quickly he’d have been able to plot the route if he were in contact with the cruiser’s computer. But that was no longer an option. 

“I wonder what Legion HQ looks like without computers,” Reep Daggle wondered aloud, plotting the next coordinate. “I bet it looks different.”

Querl didn’t want to think about it. But it was better than wondering what Colu would look like. “I am certain that the aesthetic details will not have changed significantly, merely the mechanisms required to operate it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Chameleon agreed, frowning as he waited for Rokk to finish typing in his coordinate before starting the next one. 

Querl resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to take a long time.

~~*~~

After manually inputting all of the commands to fly the Legion cruiser to New Metropolis, they were finally able to gather everyone together to discuss their options. As the Legionnaire who had spoken with the Braalian, Cosmic Boy seemed the best choice to lead the meeting. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Rokk said, ignoring the fact that there really weren’t many other places to go when aboard a spacecraft. “As we’ve all been made aware by now, the mission was a success, and we successfully prevented the Blight from ever happening.” He frowned a little. “However, from what I understand, a new threat has taken its place. A villain, one that many are calling the Computer Tyrant , has created a virus that spread throughout the universe, destroying all forms of Artificial Intelligence.” 

Eyes turned to Querl, who was doing his best to ignore that and keep his gaze fixed on Rokk. Everything felt so much slower when he didn’t have as many things to occupy his mind, and he mentally noted who was staring at him (everyone but Rokk), immediately regretting his decision. He didn’t like being under scrutiny.

“What makes this interesting is that the Computer Tyrant is identified using a symbol we are all very familiar with.” Now Rokk, too, was staring at Querl.

The sensation of being stared at was growing nigh unbearable. Nonetheless, Querl persisted. He pointed to the symbol on his chest, trying not to look put out. He had a very good idea of who this Computer Tyrant might be, and it was objectively terrifying. “Yes, he or she is most likely a Brainiac,” Querl said, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably, if the tremor in his voice was any indicator. “This symbol has long been used as a crest for my clan, and was recognized by our Braalian contact as a symbol of the Computer Tyrant. It follows, then, that this…” Killer. Monster. Destroyer of worlds. “...villain… is likely one of my ancestors.” Which one, Querl had no real way of knowing. That was the problem with having a surplus of villainous ancestors. Too many to choose from to know for sure who was responsible. And it would likely be extremely difficult to get any information on that subject, considering Querl would not have access to any computer systems for the foreseeable future.

“What are we going to do?” one of the Legionnaires asked. It might have been Chameleon. Whoever it was, Querl hadn’t spotted them, as he had directed his gaze to the crest emblazoned on his chest. Without access to the ship’s security system, he wasn’t able to view the room from alternate angles to identify who had spoken. He fought down another wave of irritation at the inconvenience.

“First, we’ll head back to Legion HQ,” Cosmic Boy said, “And from there, we’ll try to gather information, and come up with a plan.”

Querl nodded along with the rest of the room, but his mind was whirling. A plan. To do what? How could they eradicate what was clearly deeply embedded in the social structure of this time? Grife, even an attempt to eradicate the virus might bring down upon their heads the wrath of planets that had benefited from the widespread eradication of advanced technology. Eradication of an entire race, if not races.

Oh, and that was a thought he didn’t want to pursue, but found his mind unable to resist the magnetism of horror that was slowly overtaking him. All Artificial Intelligence was eradicated. Dead. Colu was dead. Dead, without question. There was no way one of his ancestors would have created a virus to destroy all forms of artificial intelligence and chosen to spare Colu. True, Querl had been something of a persona non grata on his homeworld, due to his insatiable desire to create, design, and experiment. Colu was a world largely based on intellect, not action, which was a large part of why he’d left in the first place. But just because he hadn’t always felt welcome or wanted on his homeworld didn’t mean he wanted them all dead. The very thought sickened him, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. 

It was like all of his emotion was choking him, and that shouldn’t be, he had specific parameters in place to prevent his emotions from overwhelming him like that. Was it because he’d shut down all nonessential functions in his onboard AI? That didn’t make sense, the inhibitors were treated as an essential function. So what, then, was causing this failure to adequately process an emotional response?

“Brainy?” Imra was standing beside him, and sprock, he hadn’t seen her coming, hadn’t noticed her there, hadn’t… grife, he was falling apart, wasn’t he? 

“Saturn Girl,” Querl managed to force the words out, but his chest felt tight. Sprock, it shouldn’t hurt to breathe, he had kept all essential functions active. Was it the virus? Had he already been infected? Maybe he was dying, perhaps he hadn’t been fast enough to cut off access, and now he was going to shut down. “I think I’m… dying,” he choked out, looking down at his hands, watching them tremble as black spots danced in his vision. 

“Brainy,” Imra’s voice was a little more firm, “I want you to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath.”

Querl was breathing. He was breathing fine, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that he couldn’t sprocking feel his fingers or his toes. He was losing sensation. His AI was shutting down, he was losing his sprocking mind, he was dying, he was -

A sharp pain bloomed across the side of his face, and he blinked, hard. Imra was staring at him, eyebrows furrowed, hand extended. 

Tentatively, Querl reached up, resting his hand on his cheek. “You slapped me!” he accused.

“I did,” Imra didn’t sound the least bit repentant. “Now breathe in, and don’t breathe out until I tell you.”

Querl did as he was asked, confused, but not really wanting his last living moments to be spent getting slapped by Imra a second time. He inhaled deeply, waiting until Imra said “exhale slowly”, and then did so. He continued to breathe when she told him to, focusing on her commands, and was surprised to feel the tightness in his chest begin to loosen. His hands and feet were still cold, but he was starting to be able to feel them again. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and was glad to see they moved smoothly, no longer shaking uncontrollably. 

“Better?” Imra asked, her eyes concerned as she looked him over.

Querl took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I… think so,” he said. “I no longer believe I am dying, anyway.”

Nodding, Imra rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “That’s good. Do you need anything?”

Querl needed to feel safe. But there was little chance of that, at least in this century, it seemed. Instead, he shook his head. “I do not.”

Imra patted his shoulder again, and then walked over to whisper something in Rokk’s ear. The two of them glanced back at Querl over their shoulders and then returned to whispering. Again, Querl found himself wishing he had access to the computers, he would at least be able to try and read their lips if not pick up audio. How was he supposed to maintain his air of omniscience if he couldn’t see and hear what was going on at all times? It was so sprocking boring, all twelve of his thought-tracks being trapped in a single body that was still terrified of dying the next time he accessed a computer. He also needed to make sure that the Legion cruiser wasn’t contaminated - if it were, then they would end up stranded at HQ, at least until they learned how the people of this time piloted their spacecraft. The Braalian had insinuated that their race was somehow responsible for space travel. 

Querl wondered if it had to do with magnetism, what manner of propulsion system might be constructed using Braalian powers. That led him down a tangent, wondering if there were any other abilities in the Legion that could be applied as a propulsion system in the event that the Legion cruiser suffered a catastrophic system failure. 

There were no Legion powers that would save him from a catastrophic system failure, though. 

Sprock. He was supposed to be thinking about useful topics, not contemplating his own mortality. 

“I assume you have a backup of your brain somewhere?” Reep Daggle, ever insensitive, sidled up to Querl, shooting him a mischievous grin. “In case, you know,” he dragged his thumb across his throat in a crude gesture, crossing his eyes and allowing his tongue to loll out, his antennae drooping in a dramatic imitation of… death.

Shutting his eyes momentarily, Querl resisted the urge to strangle the Durlan. He turned to fully face his teammate, using every remaining ounce of self-control to steeple his fingers together, rather than resort to a more violent response. “That’s not how Coluan biology works, Chameleon.” 

“It’s not?” Reep at least had the decency to look upset at the revelation. “Oh. Oh!” He looked hard at Querl, his face twisting into a look of discomfort. “I feel like a nass. I didn’t know...” he looked away, his shoulders stiffening. “Sorry.”

Querl wanted to ask why he’d sprocking said it, then. Choosing instead to take the high road, he shrugged one shoulder. “Coluans die, same as any other organic being. Our consciousness, however, joins a larger construct of shared Coluan minds.”

“Oh, so like an afterlife!” Reep grinned.

It wasn’t like an afterlife, it was a literal afterlife, one constructed from all the ancestral minds that had gone before them. Except it wasn’t. Not anymore. “It used to be,” Querl said, before he could quite stop himself. 

The Durlan tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean, ‘used to be’ ?”

Querl’s hands trembled with the desire to clench into fists. “Our afterlife, as you call it, is a massive unity of Coluan minds. It is… an artificial construct.” Querl swallowed hard, and despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten recently enough to run any real risk of sicking up, he felt his stomach churn. “It is, in simple terms, a highly complex... Artificial Intelligence system.”

Reep stumbled back as though Querl had physically struck him. “What?”

He really was going to be sick, Querl realized, clutching at his stomach and inhaling sharply through his nose. It didn’t help. He coughed twice, feeling his insides twist inside him as he bent double, swallowing hard to fight back the saliva gathering in his mouth. It didn’t work. 

“But that means…” Reep was saying, his voice far away, “they’re all dead? Like, dead dead?”

Coughing again, Querl dropped to a crouch, now certain his insides were attempting to turn themselves inside out. A dribble of saliva ran down his chin, and he breathed, he swallowed… he failed to hold it in, his whole body convulsing as he heaved, dropping to all fours. The dribble of water he’d drank several hours earlier came up, splattering across the floor as he shuddered, still trying to vomit despite his now-empty stomach. 

Querl felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, holding him as he heaved, and shook, and heaved, and shook. It felt like an eternity before he was able to breathe without feeling his insides twist. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the bitter taste that lingered on his tongue. 

“I’m so sorry, grife, that was so insensitive of me,” Reep still had his arm slung around him as he rambled, “That’s sprocking horrible, I didn’t even think… sprock, your whole planet…”

Querl sat up slowly. “My whole planet,” he repeated. “Yes.” He shut his eyes. “Also my ancestor.”  

Beside him Reep stiffened. The arm around Querl’s shoulders tightened. “We’ll figure this out, Brainy. We will.”

I’m glad you’re confident in that, Querl thought dismally, because I am not.

[cutthroat-cutiepie]

Footsie

A Legion of Superheroes fic 

Well well well, it's been FOUR years since I've written anything Legion related and I'm back bringing you Garth/Imra fluff (or as I call them Pink Lightning) after binge watching the cartoon and binge reading the cartoon's comics

Hope ya’ll enjoy

If there is one thing Garth hated it was paperwork. Here he was on the very rare occasion where both he and Imra had some time off. It was a beautiful day, they could do anything they wanted, the world was their oyster, as Superman would say. Yet here they were, sitting in total silence, doing Legion paperwork.

He set down the review of Timber Wolf’s mission report and took a chance to stretch. He took up most of the couch lying along its length with is feet on Imra’s lap at the other end. He noticed that she seemed unaware of his movements and was deep into the Legions quarterly expense report.

“Hey,” he poked her in the arm with his toe, causing her holo-screen to move. Garth expected a glare or even a quirked eyebrow, especially since she didn’t like it when he touched her with his feet, but she paid him no attention. Garth frowned until a thought popped into his head.

He decided to have a little fun.

He tried again, poking her arm, but with a little more force “hey”, the only reaction being a blink.

Garth slipped his foot out of her lap and nudged her elbow, no response. He ever so slowly worked his foot up her arm saying “hey” each time. so far his only sign that Imra was registering any of this was an ever so slight clench of her jaw that to anyone else, would have gone unnoticed.

He poked her jaw, saying “hey” and waited, waited to see if she would give into it all, Imra only scrolled to the next page. Garth took a minute to think. Did he dare go any farther? Did he dare incur the wrath of Imra Ardeen master telepath and Legion founder? But most importantly, did he dare anger his loving girlfriend? Garth thought this all through until he reached his answer,

Yes, yes he did.

Garth ever so slowly poked Imra in the cheek with his toe,

“Hey”. The silence seemed to swallow the room. He waited a moment before going in again,

“H-” before his foot could make contact with her face again, Imra grabbed his ankle,

“What,” Imra’s voice had an edge, a sign that she was truly stressed about the expense reports, “What is it Garth Ranzz that is so important that you feel the need to put you foot on my face” she didn’t look at him for a moment, clearly finishing the paragraph she was working on. When she did meet his gaze, she saw the surprise at her reaction in his eyes. Imra didn’t usually snap at anyone unless she had a good reason. Garth did realize how worn out she looked and instantly felt guilty for pestering her. Imra noticed and took a deep breath, letting go of Garth’s ankle and putting down the holo-screen.

“I’m sorry Garth I didn’t mean to snap at you.” the edge and irritation in her voice was gone, and her eyes held once again a kindness unique only to her, “what did you want to tell me.”

Garth sat up and pressed a kiss on her cheek “I love you”. Imra smiled, letting the stress melt from her body.

“You realize that you kissed me the same place you had your sock” she commented leaning into him, Garth laughed and scooched closer wrapping his arms around her.

“Eh, I’ve kissed you when you were covered in Space Squid goo, a little sock doesn’t bother me.” Imra laughed, god how Garth loved her laugh. She checked the time on the holo-screen and turned her gaze back up at him,

“I think we’ve worked enough for today, how about we go get some lunch” Garth pressed a kiss into her hair

“You just said the magic words”.